Gristle

the gristle of dreams
when a thought is chewed
and chewed
but won't be swallowed
won't tumble down the nocturnal throat
a sleeper slumbers through
that gristle is a minute chasm of hell
the skipping record
the haunting that won't let go
but will again and again
restate its claim
on your presence
in the nonsensical world
you fell into
when you fell asleep

Wordless

so much said
in the lack of words
the vacant image
the great abysmal void
the nod
the wink
what's understood
but not voiced
this silent procession
led by a mute conductor
into an empty page
into uncommon bliss
when there's no need
no sense of must
to air a rant
mumble misgivings
sing a praise
or chitty chatter chat
the time has past
for all of that
'tis time to pause
and hush and hear
what is said
without words

The shadow

no one longs to be lost in a mystery
and yet we've all jumped
face first into its biggest pool
without even testing the water first
or maybe we have
in those vague memories
that are more inclinations than visions
more feeling than our present state of mind
yet once removed
just enough to not validate
and keep us in the shadow we've ran to
perhaps the light of knowing was too bright
too bright for our curious eyes
with saucer-sized pupils that peer
into the darkness
waiting for something
some click in the cogs of this clock
whose minutes we are running out
in this idleness
in waiting for something
some spark to ignite the dark
and burn away all of the alternative facts
who some choose to suckle from
while others turn away from in horror
those who have looked deep
into the shadow we have ran to
and know its infinite glory

Marie

aloft in your hierarchy
and sprawling palaces
how could you have heard their plea
tell me how you could sweet Marie
of the throngs, too many voices to hear
too many preoccupations of time
how could you have heard their plea
tell me how you could sweet Marie
those luxurious diversions spent
only to spend more for more and yet
I implore, how could you hear their plea
how could you listen our sweet Marie
the decadence always too tempting
and wooers of your timely presence
how could you lend your ears to their plea
tell us this, would you sweet Marie
as you found the gowns and jewels aplenty
and the towering cakes so many
as sweet as you tasted your life
so too the blade licked your neck
how could you have heard their plea
tell me how you could sweet Marie
for as detached from your fellow man
so rolled your head from your neck
you couldn't lend your hand nor ears for their plea
but your head suited them well our sweet Marie

Sunrise

 your regrets crystallize in your frozen eyes

a polluted faith floats above

in marred skies 

when creation only creates destruction

a tar pit no one has ever escaped

reflections are the only distraction

from looking into the abyss

yet those tear deep within

at the bottom of the pit

where fallen dreams find no avail

this hell of your manifestation

in late nights

and hours too early of day

you think you've won

in the rising of the sun

as the shadows recede and fade

yet a simple turn of the head

a glance over the shoulder

is all it is waiting for

Copper tears

copper tears run green
but what have we to envy
our arms were outstretched
not to beg for more
but to welcome all
who wanted the same
and we held the lamp high
a beacon calling those home
who wanted the same
and they came and became we
a people who wanted the same
and who could be called the same
in all our facets of cultures and languages
but are we forgetting ourselves
do we no longer wish to hold the lamp high
on shores of tyranny and hate
will we forget our sacred copper scripture
forged in the burning hearts
of those of long ago who wanted the same

Bare

some can run bare
as bare as they were for their first breath
and can run into the dark empty
into the nothing mystery
as bare as they were for their first breath

they have no need for priestly robes
or bindi dots or yamaka caps
or beads of any sort
they have the stars to count
they need no mantra chant on repeat
theirs is the spin of the world
turning in the gears of the universe

some can run bare
and bare they'll be until their death
when they run into the dark empty
into the nothing mystery
as bare as they were for their first breath

The gods I've loved

barefeet on the soft green carpet
of the dewy glen
I preferred to the hard clay tiles
under stone split with glass
the wind spinning the blades of grass
on afternoons that fed into
the eternity of night
when voices beckoned
from the darkness
and birch columns shone
in the full moon presence
I laid in the silvery threads
suspended in the canopy tangles
and peered into the heart of the beast
a sanctuary afforded to those
abandoned ways and to
those who were willing to pay
twas a morsel of truth
plucked out from the veil
a glimpse beyond the mortal hell
that both throne and cross
vehemently sought and bought
but could never hold
as it was never theirs nor ours
nor was the beating pulse
I left in the ground
that night so many many years ago
I returned it to its owner
so I could jump from
those silvery threads in the canopy tangles
into the heart of the beast
and swim in his ocean
where I had longed to drown

Yew or holly

a hostage I was
in the hands of the German government
I think they were holding me for ransom
couldn't have been 'cause I'm handsome
yet a descendant
of Swiss royal blood
I declared I was
as I assured my captives of their wrath
and revenge for this grave injustice
while I held a highlighter to their throats
to escape I hurled
multi-colored eggs
of stone through glass
but they were only bound up within it
and became an opaque window themselves
until I ran out and had no more to throw
and suddenly a crash
and shattered glass
the window gave way
I bound through the hole in the wall
out into the forested yard well beyond
and hurriedly searched for sanctuary
a fenced in yard
with a tunnel entry
I slid through quick
and grasped a limb of supposed yew
though something else told me holly
still some other voice gave me more intel
the German public
was of the opinion
piss was fouler than dirt
I found myself within that fenced yard
where a thin shelf of dirt rose above
and created a nook to tuck myself in
as I was told of
the status of dirt
I so tucked in and awoke

Shall we go?

he had piranha teeth
behind his muted lips
and graying mustache
he wore so trimmed and groomed
I think he spent more
time and coinage
on that particular feature
than any one other in his presence
yet here we sat feasting
at my own humble table
upon bacteria and fungi
and rancid juice that tasted quite well
he was no one visitor
anybody every really
wanted to have in the place
he was at at my own very humble table
yet awkwardly we sat
silently chewing and
spying at the other
while we awkwardly sat silently chewing
I grimaced at the thought
he might do something else
besides sitting there and
mimicking his host at this teetering meal
constantly it ate at my soul
when he would stop or
when he would begin or
when he would suddenly catch my eye in glance
alas I would lose my chance
and fetch my hat and coat
and hold the door for my guest
as he would lead me out into the dark unknown
but his spies were fleeting
as I kept my view mostly down
to avoid that momentary snare
of his stare into the emptiness I had prepared
I asked him indirectly
and politely as I could have
if he had had his fill, that is
if he needed maybe a morsel or goblet more
I fixed my gaze to his
left hand that so firmly
grasped the silver fork
as I felt his heavy eyes peering upon my person
the weight shook my body
and sweat soaked my shirt
the burden I could bear no longer
and looked up and heard him ask, "Shall we go?"