hobbits choice

Scraps and bits and all I am,

Confetti Kaleidoscope

listen, LISTEN, in symbols spoken trite

Twinkies of thought, cream filled confections

perfection in design, I Am

that icing, and sometimes steak

meat and raw and sprinkles

all within

Here’s my Fiction And my Truth

They were always the same for me.

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She

She entered in, late night pixels and poems

screen words and shared sympathy

curvaceous vocabulary tested me

honeyed tongue my muse

an ephemeral lover

of song and thought, pain played its part

loss and lost and losing

mind and matter shifting

aether maelstrom

then on her shores I fell

for a while

the best breast pillow

love lingered, languished and lived again

alive, again

her heart mired, trapped, then freed

her wings, trembling shook and flexed

strength of brother within

brought her without

and off again

to love again

to inspire again

all the while

She is

was

and always will be

She

 

In ellipses stress, the world presses in.

Too much nonsense and noise to start sorting anything out…

.. except .. here and there, a blue box, a mad man, or hatter, a cat grinning,

or a boy who lived…

a girl with skin the color of snow.. two brothers hunting…

a god of thunder, a great pumpkin, just this once… everyone lives…

words of a time ago, a poem on screen, written in pixels, but paper as well, I meant what I said and I said what I meant… hope lives here…

the things that bring us back, connect our hearts, across oceans and language, they phone home… home…

while green means go, yellow means go really really fast…

hiding in the last realm of magic…

down the trail where the red bull chased them so long again…

scattered to the jagged edges of the ‘verse that never was…

they were… and ever shall be our friends…  those moments…

supah … man…

cry now, but be better inspired, be more of you, those things that tug your heartstrings are not mere entertainment, they inspire, chide, supply with hope hearts too pained by reality..

You can fight your way to the castle beyond the goblin city…

because you are a million lives more than you, every rogue and poet, every warrior and tinker, every one… and of all of us… the most… human…

fail, fall, flee, and still you are you… no fate but what you make…

and in that time… should you need us…

muses .. sweet reminders of the spirits within…

I leave them here in the ellipses… a pause for you to fill… a space we might share… for the span of a dream

 

 

words are weapons

Ammunition combustable, reality shifts

lines and words are bullets across this stage

grenade here in soliloquy, 

the spacious detonation of weapons of massive thought

staccato bursts of inspiration from a pressure cooker bomb

chase off in devastation, never just one direct line, but

the carnage words of pain, rage, 

changed purpose to sustain

feel the other side, fear, grief, helpless

intimidation bought by bits of metal, firing pin, chamber, muzzle

loss of life, choice, liberty, slow to discover

if one can’t have it, neither can the other

writers block

A few words here and there

thoughts simple and too many to share

music plays and senses attune

for this moment stolen with pixel creations

I’d play on old themes and new

emotional sublimation

distilled thought

paper draft

back to seeking inspiration

glimpses and insights so few

pushing words and schemes with gentle supplication

alone with keys in an unlocked room

thief of happiness to compare

sometimes, the cupboards just bare

 

 

 

Buttons Path

IM00
IM00

Buttons path

May 6, 2003
She is here somewhere,
I know she is…
only left just a while ago
I hurt when she is gone
and though she’s so near
its hard to see her
its hard to imagine
the light in her eyes
vanished so long

I walked that path much later
holding her still cooling body in my hands
crying one last time into her soft fur

losing myself with her
each time my shovel bit the unyeilding ground
breaking down, I
lose my heart

she gave me

I know she is,
here somewhere..

(updated 8/29/16)

Exwish

 

almost wish I could say it hit me like a wall,

But no, it was more insidious.
Did it come as a shock?
Did my heart skip and stop?
Palms sweating in supplication for a mistake of the presses.
Some tragic lovelorn last minute revalation?
But no, it was not.
It was something that slunk its way into my life.
Much the same way you did
I realize.
This, awareness.

Apathy runs her room temperature fingers over my flesh.
And I am not aroused, clinically, insignificantly.
I find today the carcass of a fictioned love,
ties his lacking-soul to another.

I almost wish I could say it mattered.
Because then if it did, 
what I thought I had felt, 
might have been real.

but it was not

(Updated 8/27/16)

ETA

static demands pry ears from current work
busy hands quickly finish, settle, sort
interrupting continuityheavy sigh escapes, tossing on layer of cotton protection
hands reach for over-used box of implements
tourniquet, needles, gauze, tubes, tape
quickly, efficiently, wasting no steps, until
standing, waiting, preparing
deep breath in

doors whir open, allowing inside
tangle of legs, board on wheels, body on board
lines all over, strapped down
still thrashing, wild eyes look about
steady drones hover over it

lights bright, reveal little blood, just a hole
disembodied voice calls out, maybe it was stopped by the skull
mere moments allotted to dodge in
between bodies, under reach
gently slide needle into vein, life flows into clinical tubes
wild eyes lock, looking askance, I’m gonna die

I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die

eyes intensely seek answer they already know
looking deep, gentle voice speaks
be calm, just listen, it’s okay, breathe, I can hear you
litany continues, soothing just a touch
knowing already fates response

I’m gonna die

no breath now of its own accord, mechanically they pump
out the entangled mass flows, through more doors
to take scientific photographs of the wound

not the wounded

I think mine was the last voice that spoke to his dying ears

(left unedited except for spelling, don’t know that I want to brush this up yet, as it was more stream of consciousness and I’m not in the same part of the stream as when I wrote it so I might muddy it more than help)

Love Letter

Feather tipped shafts,
dip into ink,
trail onto parchment.Lift your eyes and gaze there,
see your hand, blurred through the mist of sadness.

Begin the long strokes that spell out the name,
your loves beauty trapped in winding black lines.

Simple lines

A thousand words before
and another thousand after,
have said nothing you haven’t before
discovered only memories.

Drift inside your minds eye
the last sight,
cherished lips parted in final farewell.

Pour onto paper
your essence

quill scratches

into
silenceWeep for that forever never
seal it in sanguine nomenclature
hand deliver intimate you.

39 cents
addressee unknown

(updated 8/16/16)

Writer

I was a writer,
a poet of pretentious extension,
mindless prattle.
A falling star, blazing once,
wishing forever to shine.
To elicit sweet, a gasp of pleasure,
treasure taken, raided from your mind.
Crisp, crush, thorough, through your heart,
to see, I’ve written it all for you,
always.
For you to see

me

and who I am.

(brushed up 8/1/16)