At Bended Light

 When light bends it creates distortion, and I believe the same for truth and beauty. Truth stands intact independently of the minds perception of it. Having been unable to break the seed, some have turned to salting the top soil.  Truth in of itself is no longer kept as beauty. Instead, the idea that two or more opposing ideas must be measured with equil weight and justification is pushed forward. This has punctured our culture in every way humanity used to be inspired. Art is seldom lauded for technique or skill, but for grotesque pungencey. Architecture has passed from marble and pilliar monuments of tribute to the ethics of manual labor, and has been replaced by stucco muted buldings resembling the wasps hive. They're no longer buldings that testify of forethought through the age, they are to remind us that we are drones. Beauty is under siege as what it means to be a father or a mother is washed out and undermined by the ludicrous notion that gender is a subjective construct. Being a man used to stand for something, and being a lady was a title of noble praise. The power of graces and honors would inspire us to greatness. These days we find no use for beautiful ways, people, things. We've forsaken their purpose. As we burn our empires down, with mouths full of ashes we roll in the blood of what we once were.

Rythem of the Aquanaut

 
You’re with someone that over time becomes the air you breathe. Suddenly the loss of them is drowning you. Like an aquanaut you begin to explore the deep depths to understand the whys of both yourself and blame. In time you can breathe again, with your own lungs and a real sense of clarity. You inhale freedom, and exhale solitude. You inhale isolation, and you exhale longing. Breathings a rhythm tied to the beat of the heart. Life is music that way, steady drums crush you and love blows through the holes making a melodic tune.  Everyone I’ve ever loved I love in different ways. They become fading baselines.  Ambient sounds of laughter creating pressure over time.  Love is a weapon against darkness in us. Love makes us defenseless before another. The waves of laughter turn to dripping sobs before they crystalize in silence.   In the silence and solitude we fill our lungs with air, learning to breathe and stumble and stand. We scream but we are just one again.  We laugh as one again. We walk as one again, wading out to some new emotion, beyond the safety of the rift,  to lose our breath once more captivated by the same old songs.

Poema di un Campo

 My heart is a field of sown ghosts
Spirits rustling through the grass grown tall 
The muddied bodies of everyone I've ever left linger here 
Growing into faded memories. 

In the shaded trees of context and the thicketed thorns of circumstance, 
My heart is an entangled field of ghosts.
My love is a graveyards somberness under an open starlit sky. 
A garden of natural paths untread and forgotten. 

I am a ghost sown in the field of my own heart
A regenerate bloom of self destruction. 

Shadow

 There a shadow that's stuck to my heels from the day I was born, and it grows longer and darker in time. My days break with light and possibilities before they trickle like runoff into the guttural black. This shadow thickens in the night calling out in a hoarse whisper to stop resisting solitude and surrender to the inescapable cold of death. I swallow light and remedial spoonfuls of life as a man seeks to shake an irritating cough. "Im loved and never alone" I say aloud from the walls of the cage I live. The shadow grows as I lay still with my heart withering with sadness within. I spend each day dying and imaging love. 

Breathing shallow and deep sighs I lose myself. 

The shadow waits for me as death is an inevitably, but I tell you sometimes he's so damn impatient.

Forfeit Paradise

The orange and blue hues of dusk dance across the horizon

The warmth of the day is retreating from my sun bleached heart beaten in the sand

In this paradise of mind I await the tide to pull me back to the to oceans of obscurity 

The windows of light draw thier shutters tightly and I wonder if the stars will remind me of you. 

I've walk along this shoreline of sand turned to rock, and watch as aspirations fall like heavy stones

The seasons change from a romance of spring to the cold of absence

As the colors of my heart bleed into oblivion in a water colored future that won't be,

I contemplate the silence of a forgotten paradise and wonder what tomorrow comes

The Managerie

 The Menagerie

We live in a simultaneous age of isolation and constant connectivity.

We're starving for intimacy and over-fed information.

Honestly, can any one of us pinpoint the moment when innocence died? 

We've got sex robots and the government is run by pedophiles. 

Society conditions children to mutilate themselves for approval.

We demonize and over correct mistakes and shout down those with dissenting views.

The tides of the mass opinion like a cresting wave of sewage saturates the mind and the skin.

If you can see they'll blind you with it.

They'll parade downfalls on the six o'clock news. 

Telling you you're fine while they break you down into nothing. 

In the world that tells you that you can be anything, what they mean is that you can choose what they offer.

Man was not meant to live on bread alone.

The crumbs that fall from the mouth of the system that is to be subservient to the people are devoid of nurturing value. 

Does the eagle say to the mouse "I'm here to save you" as he clasps his clawed talon through the bones?

The opulent wear ties and sit in front of cameras, and then tell you that freedom is the cause of your pains and they have the chains to cure you.

I was born wild, and I've tasted steel cages.

I've gnawed and clawed through the restraints of expectations and in my core I am a free man. 

They've domesticated and bred us to perform their tricks and to stay still while they cup us for best in show. 

I am not their ornamental maltese curled at the foot of their silk laden bed.

I am the wolf in the grass that knows what they are. I can smell their arrogance. 

They permeate underestimation. 

I run wild with the snakes and the lions.

My fear is reserved for Divine fire, and my reverence is set for higher calls.

My faith is placed in the underdogs with the numbers marked in the unseen.

I dwell securely in the shoulders of my God. 

Jericho fell with the crash of clay and the trumpets sound,

Beware the day that dawns on the power of

the wolves howl.

The Courage of the Voyager

To venture forward on the voyage of love is courage.  The moment you hoist the sails and embark on your journey, you have doomed what you were.

You have killed yourself.

The person you thought you were will cease to exist

The stone floor will scrape your knees

where you fall. And you will bleed.

The trust that you carry hidden deep within your heart will be placed into the hands of another

You will become better than you knew, as pieces of you die. Parts of your armor will clang and clatter to the ground leaving you naked and exposed

Passion heat can ignite a burning inferno, but nothing blisters and scars like silence.

Yet beyond the winter of extremes

Having torn the skin from the knuckles as you climb over insecurities

you will stand...

something new

something stronger

and maybe something smarter

Or more compassionate than you ever were before.

OR,

you will have turned back at the first sign of trouble.

and the person you once were will still be dead, leaving you embittered, fragmented, despondent, and broken.

So be courageous

See what is before you, not as the end of your self that you know,

but the opportunity for new life to burst forth from what you are. Let love build you anew