A Field

A jewel drips down
Against the lion's cheek, starts a speech
Of sparks and trees, the sudden illumination
Then thunder speaks, once more for
That sunken floor underneath, the giant's feet.
Ungainly enemies but a clever little fiend, lacking in no amenities, Loki Loki
What do you see?  The crest and star of Lucy, consoling the people
In dream.  Star-light, star-bright, first star
I see tonight, light of fire atop the trees.

Let sleeping dogs lie by and by on the side
In eternal suffering and cling with the breath of directness,
In each and every forehead, like the eye-opened
Orpheus of Greece.  Living antiquity, light-like simplicity.  Implicitly
Impervious.  In mystery I saw garlands of the goddess
Crowning roses.  The flower and thorn of kings, petals falling nearer
To my heartstrings then the intellect of the many.  They may
Skewer me proficiently, but sentient?  I doubt with intensity.
Consider it, crazed whim, brutal payment.  Let the wine brew for Brutus
So he can ease his day's end.  It's the sound of the pin
Drop drop to the pavement, I have no need
Of names, it makes not one difference.  Once I held
Respect and reverence, and once I felt the breath of
Resentment.  The Lords of Light-less Decadence.  I cannot
Refrain within this placement, black and white is all
But black and white in me, shading, do you see it, but
It makes no difference what's been said of it
I don't care for that insanity, the cup just turns to dust.
Instead, I draw a skeleton key from inside of us and
Watch the some turn into galaxies, then take
A drive on down the turnpike to see my friends and family.
God, this dream can't really be, I feel so
Weak I'm faltering.  Trouble, trouble toil and double!
For one so meek and grim.  Desire and admonition.
The weight of the pen; poor men and prophets, most often
Where it's least expected, buried behind piles of jest, but anything less
Is left uncollected.  Tell me whats best, coddling collective?
Give me solitary contentment, a stand on the moon or the trees.  To the
Tops of each pleasure and the depths of each winter
We season two birds in one stew.  Pan--so specific and splendid,
Sordid and senseless, relentless and restless and cruel.

Property and Liberty

A looking glass
In place.

Time and space, embroidered garments inlaid.

Now, you know me
Might I know you?

That's just a blade of grass,
That's just a tree.
That's just a mushroom,
That's just a dream.
That's just a golden calf,
That's just a spoon.
That's just a sort of fence
And once this was true:

"Trudge in the moonlight,
Fight in the trees.

Know thyself and the route will be seen.
Know this for certain:
If we fight we'll be free!

In death then for certain,
For we fight until then
Or until victory.

In decline, the perfect time
To strike.  Henceforth tonight,

Trudge in the moonlight,
Fight in the trees.
Know this for certain:
There is no defeat.

It is too often the story that
You win some, you lose,

I say, I know what is true

But since then we've
Lost all hope, all that are left now stand
As free men,

A martyrs last stand.

Burning glory,
Southern star,
A worker's friends."

An innocence depicted
In dime-store stories.
A vein pumped under it
Of slaves and of payment,
Prerogative, tradition and men.

I was born a black man, I was born a slave.
I was born a white man, I was free they say.

The creation of this country
Was cast underhanded.

Progress manifesto: wealth is demanded.

Enslavement contradiction:
Freedom, democracy.

The contrite face of the city,
Is this peace, prosperity?

Property and liberty,
Profession of thieves.

Ulterior Motives

This pad, this paper, this pen.
All secondary.

This specific arrangement
So elusive.

Like, quietly now into the thrush,
Shall we follow this deception
Born thereof?

But whatever I've been trying to say all along
Is just a whisper
Compared to the dawn.

Sun, light of sun: A thousand lights are made as one
Inside my empty palm.

Now, what ear to hear this mystery?
Another day, another day
I will be.

Force of Men

Across choppy waters
Just to let me sink
And I want to be free.

Sinking,
Slowly.
Suddenly

And with what quickness! Shine my eyes
Two times tonight but while this light is signed
No man could lie to the jury
Or hang them out to dry.

Approached and practically folding,
My feet fell well into the sand.

Now, appear red on thy bed of flames.
Is not time the thing you need? You say

And they say that mine is for the molding.
Strong to sway, I will not break.

No one knows this story,
Options only hold me,
Casting call for boring #2.

Would you leave already,
Empty pair of shoes.

Truth be true,
My love is kind.

And while this old forest
Slowly turns and bends,

I've only one for glory,
Not these lips, or my two hands.

Options only hold me,
Sifting sand and temperament,

Opening each morning,
The shifting hands of men.

13 equals unity,
Dasvidaniya it's been grand.

Sent with just a whisper,
Options are my only friend

Against the hands of men,
Against the sands of time

And oh, how the engines whine!
I hear the squall of sea gulls,

Does one yet see the sight?
I've only just been tethered,

It was my home last night.
And lo, fair minstrel,

Say the ocean has its fare,
To see her wisdom

You can't be half there,
Half a foot dangling in like,

I'm here for one thing
But not the next.

No I say leave all these distances,
Leagues of winter begin and end,

To be only folding, or falling
Onto the sand.

Dawns deliver,
Men they stand;

The idle hands of sin
Left them most unholy

But with this light
Be born again.

Is this such a simple difference,
Can you not relate?

Am I so much different from you,
Is this really not the way?

Trade me plates of wisdom,
Open arms and dialect.

I have two ears for this end,
Tongue for speeches,

Songs of men.
Traded it's ok,

These hands I have,
These feet to lease.

A hold on what I have thought before
Or a black market hiding in the cold.

Richer then diamonds,
The secret shine of gold.

Pearls to safely save and savor,
All this wisdom hiding in the grain.

Needle in the hay.

And these eyes are my redeemer,
What is it that no one says?

And I've been here in the depths of winter,
Tidy island,
Force of men.

Pearls to a princess of whirlwinds,
Tiny island
Of duress.

And wait, we've yet to see this maelstrom,
Be a witness,
Soon to break.

And now, the waves pour and pull like a spindle,
I break on the rocks
And am pulled underneath.

And now, the waves pour out and call like a minstrel.
I'm out of the pot
And into the flames.

Amen,
Yod Heh.

When Skies Are Grey

Now it is Friday,
And the fog lays thick on the land.

The sun is risen, but I cannot see my dear friend.
Fortune, good fortune, when does your love end?

"You'll never know, dear."
I slide into my chair,

A desk of devotion,
A place to prepare.

With my new friends around me:
Browning, Baudelaire.

"How much I love you."

The poet eats the sunshine,
Drinks the rain.

Right now it is Friday,
And the fog left a name

Of creaky wood according
to stormy seas.

Water-logged, full of memories,
Privileged pier to proficiency.

Discipline, a dangerous mistress, prone to agree.
How many rest in testament,

Buried at the bottom of the sea.
Now, let's test this sentiment:

The cold winter breeze
Will not remember you freezing,

According to, is a dangerous thing.

Now, to each their own according
To each their own new day.

Now who am I ignoring,
What could cause me to refrain?

A world complete with feelings,
Silent sound of time surrounds.

Wheels within wheels.
Sweet symphony,

Ludicrous melody,
Simple sound.

Whatever, just build from the ground up.
Stick to your gut, kid,

Guns up the sleeve,
Grown in the silence.

Now, just do as you please,
A pearl is passive

So, what do you see?
A tumbleweed, or something more troubling?

Whatever, just let me be.
This one or that one,

In my own bed I sleep.
I've won and I've lost,

I've been to hell again and again,
Only one thing remains:

The song to the wind.
Like, I say something and

It is lost once again.
Angles my dear friend,

Range-less Peer,
Tried and True.

I have no expectations,
Paint me red and blue.

Either Fire or Fire (There is Only This)

I've walked and walked for hours,
Talked of God and men.

I've often watched the Tower
Crumble to the sand.

And the mice and men they shiver,
A light touch runs right down the back.

I will not mince my words,

The dance of whirling purpose,
Like to Shiva the world would end.

And time to start from the beginning:

Love and Love,
There is only this.

The flower and the sword kiss,

Each is love
In each respect.

The jaws of a Lion conquer,
Magnificent!

Might of practice,
Might of men.

Well, you know King Arthur's glory?
Just a sinner, yes, only just a man

But a token of something greater;
A sacred grove, a simple wind.

A figurehead implores me,

What interest controlling?
What does it represent?

Might as the extent
of God's Glory;

Perfect Judgement, Perfect Sense.

Like Solomon's robes worn proctor,
Authority offered from the one who extends

Perfect Judgement, Perfect Sense.

The wealth of a story
Actually materialized

Right in front of them.
Tandem operation:

You have the inner circle
And the surrounding hands.

The most beloved
And the loved under Him.

Un-earthen, un-seen
          Forming
Worldly glory, shining team.

Day after day,
The shape is yet to be.

Diviner

Give me freedom,
Or give me death.

A ferris-wheel of friends,
Each step unto the next.

Just kicking a tin can
For better or for fun.

What credit?
Appointed reference,

With a sun-dial smile
Sitting on the fence.

Cheshire precedent,
Premonitions respect.

And with intent to seize this brevity,

A dime
A year
For rent.

I can see The Child in each of the faces around me.