Drowned By Story/Letters to No One


Where is authenticity?  Nervousness can change any positive to a negative – just you watch.

* * *

Odd isn’t it, a fear of aging but a desire to die before becoming old?

* * *

Today, yesterday and tomorrow have nothing in common.  Even your own particles change constantly – possibly even drastically.

God is language.  Communication among the quarks.

* * *

Everything is based upon the terrain wherein it resides.  Failure is subject to a vantage point.

“Good and evil are so monstrously mixed up in man.”  Dostoevsky

* * *

Divided.  Insufficiently surrounded; naked and captive as the mouse stuck on trap seeing its opening but unable to remove its fur from the glue.   A loss could be worth it.  The first sacrifice should be what?  Morals over mortality.  Isolate.  Cleave.  Glory always fades.  Luck is a creation and myth built on love’s lack of stability.

Man is in translation to be given to next generation.  How archaic we are – war and catechism. Fashion and false fascism preached on TV.  And so further down the canyon goes til it conquers the core itself.

But beauty is the sole survivor, sad as it is.  The monster falls to it.  Yet, not the awe of worthless paintings.  No, not the strummings. Only in nature and in humans.  A certain curvature . . . Cling to this.  It is all that remains day into day.

Misful Wishtake


from there on in

the coming is rough

 

above all illuminations

of a doubt

 

on river of moonbeams

countdown of worries

too much

to know where to begin

largest numbers

return to zero

* * *

even weak storms

are missed

in droughts

* * *

wishes take form

from mutiny

at heart

* * *

mistakes

always seem

to go

before corrections

are understood

* * *

over thrown

kingdoms

of nervous mirrors

 

over rested

children

kissing first time

dark

and created

under daylight’s

eye

* * *

started ravenous

waves

ate ancient

 

saved modern

for tomorrow

 

held distance

in shadows

of nets

* * *

shallow lids

did best

they could

to shield vision

from feeling

second best

* * *

fugitive peeks rose to occasion

took mission

as destiny

* * *

conscious

attacked

itself

* * *

truth

was turned down

 

but truth

takes life

in stride

 

sees rejection

as its favorite

outfit

* * *

whispers tried not to

but cut through sleep

 

offset any sense

of a cure

* * *

brooding

began

when

the missing did

* * *

wish

took up

sentry

over breakfast

* * *

liberty

misplaced

wingspan

* * *

eager transformation

-sigh-

another weekend

* * *

neon gave signs

lessons in youth

and age

 

took out for a date

mistake

* * *

impatience

persisted

for serendipity

 

hoped in

jitters

 

prayed

in fashion

of moping

* * *

sublime

moments

remove

sails amiss

* * *

waking brings mist

* * *

full winds enter

wingspan

found

 

freedom

possible

matures

* * *

swift

close to dingy

filth

of sunlight

refused

welcome

 

heavy dust

of silence

fixes

 

at-hand world

 

overturns

with sleight

in mind

language

thawed

 

(originally posted on altpoetics.wordpress.com)