Artistry

Painters paint heavens.

Singers

rattle the sky.

There is art to be found,

systematically,

within every heart.

And across the vault,

each hope shines as a star.

Exalted Tumbling

From the hand, up the arm,

words creep upon a page.

She, whose face is void of expression.

Having left nothing to a part of the all,

except an artificially devised

fountain of forms,

of memories and a series of

exalted ideas which today do not ring true.

As the final stroke of a clock sounds,

and the golden flame burns out,

feel now the silence.

Nothing worth saving,

her legacy beyond honor.

Stopping The Impossible

A new vision of equidistant pigeons,

stuck mores tangled in imposed grinds.

No one gets an uptown lease.

Predestined railroad tracks,

and running upon them, irrelevant trains.

The engineers feel we live

within the trapped understanding

of invented occasions, useless styles,

and give expected, sweet patronage

to every complete infringement,

to every exact approach of all they prescribe.

There are solid objections

and revolutions inside us,

instilling a rabid reacquaintance

with the questioning of governing headlines.

Even half a turn

will change those,

and reconstruct each person’s individuality.

The unsuccessful wrong now stands corrected.

 

In The Midnight Of Time

Freezing steel,

feel its depth,

standing upon

a shaky world

that senses less each year.

Gravediggers dig shallower,

and owls hoot more quietly,

and gazelles run slower.

The moon shines more dully,

although with still noticeable grace.

Death is used as a cover,

to excuse our lack of forgiveness,

to make things less strange,

and let flesh rest,

to mend its own seams.

To let lips rest,

from telling stories,

or casting spells.

To allow eyes, 

to focus elsewhere,

to seek ancient lands

where freezing steel is unknown.

And a steadier world prevails.

 

 

 

When The Parakeets Disappeared

I remember what you were,

although I dreamt of you becoming

something else.

I recall your actions of brilliant deviltry,

while wearing so well your anthropoid sneer,

remaining so nonplussed while I bled.

You brought home to me two parakeets in a cage

during one of your rare, dolorous frames of mind.

But, I learned that you were

a bungling traitor on whom

I had wasted worthy love while

smothered beneath your lustiest mockery

of expressions of affection.

I also discovered that you

sought to use the birds  

as a means to confine me, as they themselves were confined,

and all heard my grief.

I thought your shallow inputs to help 

cure my oblivion were real.

But, your sad and cruel refusal to abjure trickery

showed the truth.

You promised to re-orient yourself, but continued 

to rule your roost,

laying down petty rules,

as if formulated by an emperor.

Your haughty fabrications

brought me to the point of leaving the cage door open,

and as I exited through the front door,

those beautiful birds, now free, chirped,

and I felt no despair, pain, or anger at their escape.

We all got away,

and all heard my relief.