Monday, December 8, 2014

My Jungle

I am drawn here to write things down
To let the ebbs, guard my flowing mind
To blink, to breath, to be alive
To wander through this strange jungle of my mind
To seek new understanding
To become something I wasn't before
Here I am walking through my mind
Through the anguish, through that terror
That nightmare
The dimly lit sprouts of love
And the bruising trunks of it unrequited
I am here to stop for a moment
Sit
Listen to the songs, the melodies, those haunting harmonies
To read the words written here in the stone
There where the creek cuts for unknown corners
To speak with the fawna
To dissipate
Become everything and nothing
At once the universe, in its relentless unknown
Becomes clear
As if in the palm of my hand, my hand the sun
And dark
Shadowed by seeing
The shadowed mind
Grows wet with persperation
That sinking
That spinning
The creek springs to life and rains down upon me
I cannot run for the mud beneath my feet
The muteness of life here is overwhealming
The taste of copper dirt fills my stomach
My lungs of fire and spit
Of leaf and worm
Decay denies death
I am alive with parasites
Reborn the wretched
Devouring the shell I once inhabited
There is no love
No need, no want, no thoughts
Only my animal urge to eat and fuck
I am that dirt I excrete
I breach the tomb and am once more in the suns healthy light
I reach for it
As my life depends on it
That warmth
That nourishment
My stiff limbs
Birth leaves
The clarity of wind and rain and sun
Allow me to see that I am the jungle
I stand up and walk

Monday, November 17, 2014

The Soldier

The soldier marches in the rain
hurrah hurrah
He plays his patriotic game
hurrah hurrah
The bullets burst the colonels curse
The women at home all fear for the worst
And he'll never be the same

The soldier marches in the rain
hurrah hurrah
Collecting on his combat pay
hurrah hurrah
The horns shout out the children cry
The wife at home is just getting by
And he'll never sleep again

The soldier marches in the rain
hurrah hurrah
His head hangs low in dismal shame
hurrah hurrah
The drums never stop the worlds all grey
Left cold and alone forever he'll stay
And we'll never know his name.

Monday, May 13, 2013

Wind

It doesn't matter.
A tree will always stand up,
Like man, against wind.