Palms and SkinRead Now
I’m a late night wake of wakefullness, rolling through the hours of wide-eyed emptiness. A free loving hippy snoozer without the snooziness. I sleep in between the rays of the moon and ride the coattails of evening stars. Love me two times and I might come back for more, shy me once and I may never return. But the other out there welcomes me, saturates me, harbours a full sea of
Something filled with tentacles and slippery shoes,
reaching arms to entangle my hair in the rush of void-winds.
the breath of giants encircling my mind
forever orbiting each thought with tidal moons.
Scherzo in the depths,
Smothering Sunday into each other’s steps.
A violin in the spheres
singing to the absent audience
awaiting their applause with bated breath.
I dance on the boards between each crescent
watching rockets take to the skies,
laughing each moment that rushes by.
A hand for two,
palms and skin
Untitled PoemRead Now
For you I ache and fall apart,
For you I tend these tender scars,
For you I hope the stars will shine
While I lie in dust upon the stairs.
The Bells of CountenanceRead Now
Bells are sounding on the ocean floor
Calling en-masse quietened voices,
Though grumbling feet pass with heavy countenance
Through every remembered door.
Bells ring out sounding forlorn:
The remembrance of a past unshorn;
Life now swelling into mists of time
Scrambling as naked countenance looks on.
Because it is here, this taste will stay
An end to pondering,
An end to wandering.
Should these ends meet,
Driving sand into studied toes
And gathering gulls into a flock of followers,
Bells will ring out overhead
To remind a sullen face
Of the debt owed to paper thoughts
Stranded on the ocean floor.