wall

i am inside this wall

its epithets burnt

from listlessness

and tempered with

lost edges

i am not contained

as much as cut in

like a final movement

needing to end

and knowing its stay

is short and executor

the coolness surprises me

and its mendacity lending

openness to such end

i rest in the ambivalence

claiming it as love

and not as lost

the muse is not silent

but she mouths demons

and they will not claim me

for i resist, i whisper

in jesus name as a mantra

holding back my remorse

fighting the wayward notes

in my mind as mahler did

dissonance becoming him

me now, me now, me

and so i push against the wall

as sisyphus to his stone

promontory hard but elusive

and push to still all dark

closing my eyes i advance inside

to avoid the manifest insiders

wall to wall the remainder

of lingering promise is silent

as the words of the end

 

Asphalt

asphalt

 

my marrow was showing

it was the salty kind

i stood as still as god

upon judgement day

and declaimed the city

my body unable to see

all i could spot was retro

the delight of sentiment

and i was unconvinced

i wondered at illusion

was it i or the citadel

that mocked me

was it my Lot

or was deity declaring me

unclean for repenting

it was an afterthought

the turning

i saw the end

and mine

was it salt

or ashphalt

 

 

 

 

 

Falling is an art

falling is an art

 

my father had warned me

about the dangers of heat

show you how i feel

how i fell

the heat of the agonising

heat where wax doe s melt

and men are vulnerable

i am a man of unquestionable vulnerability

show you how i feel

how i fell

i was bruised before i plummeted

hubris is a bruise you know

show you how i feel

how i fell

i imagined not god there

in the braying rays

but here, instantly spent

falling is further than you think

show you how i feel

how i fell

way towards the dark side

of the unturning earth

show you how i feel

how i fell

hades had pact made

and i was it

the plummeting son dethroned

show you how i feel

how i fell

there was a moment

before the end

where purpose became me

it was after the fear

before the denouement

show you how i feel

how i fell

it was at this solitary suspension

in the midst of fall

that i saw the end

mysterium tremendum

show you how i feel

how i fell

falling is an art

some do it perfectly

 

 

 

 

It is colder than it was

More solitary cold

Way less demarcated

Than evening

The winds now less

Less aware than before

And slow as providence

I dreamt i was all fallible

And woke to see it true

 

narrow

instead of limb

of arms

in hand shut

utter

instead of entire

limit, push to stem

the dreaded ones

from antipathy

a window agape

ringent to all

all too ringent

instead of a man

swept, cut under

candid humanity

and narrowly free

instead of a ghost

denied by sight

a flesh, a song

a manifold

instead of me

an we

instead of them

all selves, salves

regarded serfs

instead of mirrors

gods above

mirrored gods below

instead of listless

petty pose

a heart and pure

naivety

 

 

father

he lay on the bed

as frail as god

his hands bent

and formless

he leafed through

his life, his art

as if it was the now

i sat on bed edge

reiterating life

for his damn sake

i watched a mirror

his face detached

i meant to tell him

i loved him

but he told me first