Persist???

Persist?

Persist

Oh but what of my beating heart?

My legacy?

My primitive suspicion that I am never who I think I am?

Would I stop this tidal flow of my blood?

Coursing like rivers through rivulets.

Or would I rivet steel to the exterior of the structure?

To strengthen it artificially.

Who does that armor really hold up?

Something must give.

Me or the Way.

The Way or Me.

The desert is long with sandstorms brushing my teeth with the gritty taste of my ineptitude.

What does it take,

To let me join the rest of humanity?

I let my blood drip in the sand,

Smeared from where I raise my feet.

Bloody footprints, Bloody memories, Bloodshot eyes.

Swollen fat tongues drooling with arrogance like circus clowns so simply certain

Persist!

A great command.

One foot in front of another!

A great sentiment.

But what if there is no blood left when I arrive?

I am cacophony.

 

The Quality of Autumn

The Quality of Autumn 

Quality of Autumn

 

Pangs of the heart come as the days shorten with a kind of softening bitterness.

What will this end bring?

What will any end bring?

Something new?

For me?

I suspect more of the same.

Wheels upon wheels of an endless autumn, not one step further.

Where is my spring? Has she been lost in the depths of the winter?

A wandering widow who never again finds home?

I lay in the browning grass.

I feel the crunch of leaves in my palms.

I squeeze to feel the assemblage of their wreckage.

Bittersweet memories.

Sleepless nights.

I open my palm.

I am the fragments of leaves scattered on the backs of the wintering winds.

Naked.

Return

Return

Return

It is beckoned by gravity’s song,

Pulled ever forward, ever along.

Dodging left and right,

Hoping to stay out of sight.

The secret is here, in the act,

In the movement, in the contract.

Down it goes, it jerks, it resists,

Until it mergers from a single kiss.

It kisses some more and increases its speed,

It becomes heavy, weighted down, a larger bead.

It clings tight, to the metal, all it knows,

But it cannot grasp forever, it must let go.

It loses its grip and cascades down,

It lands in the water but does not drown.

Instead, it merges, it melds, it becomes,

Connected existence, it succumbs.

And remembers it forgot all that it knew,

Connected and one, the only real view.

Space and potential, potential and space,

Here, at last, it knows a joy it can embrace.

The Mastery

The Mastery

The Mastery

It’s all there,

What we once were,

What we are.

It never left the heart.

I assure you.

 

Patient Shadows can abide in darkness.

And As we walk forward on the grated metal path,

Can you hear that echo against your feet?

It means you’re moving.

It means you’re making progress.

But what progress is needed,

When it’s all there already?

There’s no need to deny it.

I assure you.

 

Patient Shadows burn in the brilliant light,

They don’t mind.

There’s no pain.

I assure you.

 

Do you see the path yet?

It’s outlined,

it’s obvious

What’s the matter?

Don’t you trust it?

Your eyes don’t deceive you.

It’s safe,

I assure you.

 

The shadows is in you,

Why do you run?

Turn,

Stop.

Smell the sweet scent of the flowers.

Or the Fucking Roses.

Does your heart quicken?

It should.

There’s no puzzle,

No pieces missing.

It’s all there.

I assure you.

 

But don’t listen to me.

Maybe I’m a lying bastard.

Look up,

Walk the path,

See the shadows,

Smell the roses,

Find the fuck out for yourself.

That’s the only way you’ll know.

I assure you.

The Language

The Language

The Language

Like scratches of the mad prisoner,

The symbols take shape.

Emergence…

Whispering like ghosts,

My ears only hear,

Their maddening consistency.

Beginning…

Pressing forward out my eyes,

Soft black tears,

Dripping downward.

Then…

Running down my arm,

The ink creeps forward,

Towards its destiny.

Form…

It splashes onto the moth

As colorful as its wings may be,

Black ink still stains,

Keeping forever echoes.

Tattoos of transformation,

Touching timidly

Until,

At Last…

 

Of What Mountains Are Made

 

Of What Mountains Are Made

Of What Mountains are Made

Heartbeat,

Heartache,

Heartbeat,

Heartache,

Round the circle,

It forms from further away.

Shadows casting nets,

Masking my face,

They don’t let me see through their gaping holes.

All I see is the rope that binds me.

It’s is a beautiful rope and bares further inspection.

See the weave?

See the loom that made it?

See the origins of the great net in which we are bound?

Bound or unbound?

We need only stand.

We need only move.

And the weave unravels.

You have a choice,

Heartbeat

Heartache

Heartbeat

Heartache

Are they different?

Wisdom Sits

Wisdom SitsWisdom Sits

 

Some of us chase it.

Like a lioness stalking a gazelle

We hope that after many failed hunts,

We will learn that right moment to strike,

We will learn that effortlessness,

So that we may gorge ourselves,

And feast on the entrails of the great masters.

 

Some of us read and study

And spend endless days tallying terms and ideas

Like accountants during tax season

We hope that one day,

The great epiphany will rise,

Like a snake’s head in tall grass.

And all the words will belch,

Their great secrets,

Granting Enlightenment

 

But often,

When we find it,

Its simplicity confounds us.

Some have a glance or receive a cursory nod,

But those who merge with it,

Who like butter on bread merge and meld for a better taste,

They understand its simplicity.

Wisdom Sits.

 

Time is Running Out

Time is Running Out

Time is Running Out

You waited too long.

Too damn long.

Clocks shatter and broken glass shimmers.

Autumn has ended and the barren winter has given birth,

To decay and putrid fragrances.

Your grave lay ready,

It smiles at you.

It is an excavation of earth and stone,

An expedition into entropy.

Patience you said,

The right moment.

Excuses.

Lay down.

Let me pour the earth over you,

So that you can taste it.

Sovereign

First new piece of artwork and poetry for 2017!

Enjoy!

sovereign

Sovereign

penetration By,

choices, changes and the cyclical regurgitation of the will to comply

algorithms and stereotypes

false hopes in finger swipes

the problem?

i am bOund by perception

i am wanting new direction

i am dissatisfied with my lot

but silent? ha! i am not.

i am vociferous

i am malicious

i am calculating

i am aggravating

i am Devastating

too many “i’s”

constantly Heaving heavy sighs

it’s time to consider my own demise

call it what it is

all of it

insanity

but there is a way out.

It’s right here