September 26, 2012

poem 342 of a poem a day for 2012




like a gust of wind in Autumn

I am in my shell sanctuary
linking the clouds
to the cried lightning
I’ve drawn to the trees
the kept whispers of knees
telling me things
that I rarely tell myself
things about nothing
to pray for
things that make no sense
things I want
more than things 
that do make sense
it’s all madness they say
you are your own
prime number algorithm
it’s all written
in the language
of slow burning plastic
dripping the hollows sounds
of what once was
or might have been
into the fast boiled oxygen
and the fast turning back
the fast dives into spinning
the shit that’s hard to swallow
where winning anything
is still a game and
is still beyond gravity’s lament
for the cages I’ve constructed  

in my padded room
I watch the spider
and blow pot smoke
while it is building its web
it seems odd angled
and disjointed like me looping  
between taut, taught
manic and serene
will I ever trust
any thought I have
I am not sure how my story ends
but I am driven toward fire
toward running
toward falling down hills
toward the edges of the abyss
I am driven to steal light
I am driven to find
where laughter seals tight
the gates at the mouth of Dawn
I am every place no one enters
I am the cemetery 
I am the stones
I am why you leave
some people alone
marking time like graves
like pieces of rain
spit from a crow’s eye

on the divide
where god is a myth
reverence for an afterlife
gets the white glove
and white wing treatment
I can’t stand my own mind
let alone the mindlessness
of waiting to die
I am easily agitated
at modern humanity
I am angry
I am not human
I am lust personified
I am someone else’s petulance
I am why erosion is pure
I am only here
to burn things down
I can only sell you
my empty shell
my memory of oceans
and the tides
where my goodness
has gone fishing
wishing old pennies
into empty wells again

EJR ©

1 comment:

  1. The oh so familiar despair arising when we discover the mirror of our mind and soul is totally obscured by dark painful thoughts and emotions which in the end, must be seen for what they really are: an urgent alarm call to look within; to quietly observe, to honestly recognize, fully accept, totally forgive... And love... Only then, with time, continued practice and compassion toward our self, can that mirror clear up and offer a bright, uncluttered window into reality...

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