Saturday, November 21, 2009

Silver Screens

Silver screens and technological spawn
Hundreds of choices but good nothing on
And yet you’re all up watching until dawn.

Eyes glued to that damned lighted square
Pants stitched to your favorite chair
Lost in a trance, a half-crazed stare.

It’s more addictive than crack cocaine.
It’s rotting what is left of your brain,
But do I here any of you complain?

The Perfect Weapon

It looks sharp and exact,
A snow-white dagger
The perfect weapon.
Press your finger to the edge
You’ll expect a rivulet of blood
To ruin the stark perfection
But it bends under the pressure,
Caresses your skin like a dream.
Satin slivers held together tightly
By an unseen thread of whispers.
You can feel the murmurs course
Under your skin, leaving a little piece
Of the unimaginable places it’s been.
It hums of the oceans, and sings of the tides
It pulls you through deserts of white-silver sand
Scorches you with the fire of the sun
And soothes you with the brush of twilight.
If it softly kisses your sleeping eyelids
Then you’ve felt a piece of heaven
An angel’s feather fallen from the skies

Anxiety is My Song and Dance

The room is a carousel
Spinning round and round in my mind
Air rushes into my lungs— too much too fast
And I’m lost in the familiar song and dance.
The voices are raging in a thunderous backbeat,
Culminating into one ominous roar.
It’s deafening it’s unbearable
It reverberates into my veins as
Blood rushes through the body
And darkens the mind, inflaming my sight.
The room is a violent shade of suffocating red
And my breath is quickening
My body is convulsing
My mind is racing
But not one sideways glance notices
The ferocious spirit taking me over
Everyone is lost in their own song and dance.

A Fated Darkness

It’s a war of worlds between the heavens and earth
As wind rips at the trees ruthlessly tearing them apart
Up from the roots they fly through the angry blue-black sky
And land in a gnarled defeated mess on the quaking ground
Rain falls in never-ending torrents, sheet music for a soulless dirge
Lightning shoots across the vast expanse, a warning from Zeus
Today is the day we call to the deep azure raging above us
To hear our cries and ready promises of reform
But each desperate plea is to no avail;
They have decided our fate.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Write On It A Tune

I’ll make you a paper airplane
To lift you from the depths of pain,
To wrench your soul from the frozen grips
Of the tundra that frosted your heart and lips.

I’ll sing you songs to calm your dreams
To lay you down next to rippling streams,
To banish the shadows that lie in your mind
And fill them with a love bright and undefined.

I’ll carve you a sea’s shell of stone
To carry the sea’s secrets to you alone
To make you see that you’re not the only one
Whose seams of life are coming undone

I’ll paint you a second moon in the sky
To reflect every child’s laugh and broken cry
To remind you that you need the dark to value light
And guide you through your most wearisome plight

I will take that paper and write on it the tune
To teach the shell to sing and serenade the moon
That moon controls the tides of effervescent blue
That I trust to bring me across this sea and back to you

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Sequoias (2)

Remember when you took me to see the Sequoias,
And when you told me you could tell how old it was
By counting the myriad of spirals twining through its heart,
You said our love would live that long—never would we part.
You said our love would put the ancient Sequoias to shame
Like the mighty redwood it would grow wild and never tame.
We stood at opposite ends and stretched our arms around
Until our hands clasped and we were once again love bound.

Time has passed; the Sequoias continue to grow tall and free.
But all I can think of is how we might as well plant our own tree
In the space growing between us, isolating you from me.

Had to turn it into a couplet for LOGOS.