Axiomatic

Look both ways.
Don't over do it.
Think before you speak.
Two hands for beginners.
What doesn't make you stronger
(and these)
may be fatal.
It may be
life or death
to learn
what cannot be taught.

Nobody will teach you
that it is (still) true-
You are
you-nique,
you have intrinsic value
beyond axiomatic calculation.
More than enough:
greater than
you give yourself credit for.

Yet you choose to be
(led) blindly,
nothing is never enough,
jumping out on a limb,
and losing grip
on brittle banalities,
broken boughs, evil vows,
twigs of truths
from Adage trees
like these.




Image By Snyder, Frank R. Flickr: Miami U. Libraries - Digital Collections [No restrictions or Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Sad today, more sorrow tomorrow

Squeezed my eyes so tight

I crimped my nose

trying to seal the heavy drapes

eyelids

the event horizon

line of eyelash hairs

black holes that hope

when

I open-

s  l  o  w  l  y  

to rearrange the world

around me

or just wishing to warp

and disintegrate my reality

I wish to be taken

hostage for a dream

it would seem most simply

escape is what I mean

I find myself thinking

of my keys

prism pavement

welcoming

the open road

to just go

a  w  a  y  

get lost

which I've found

you cannot do 

accidentally

to night 

I fight

gravity

pinned in place

notching another

non event rising day.

Image by Chameleon, via Wikimedia (Public Domain).

Just passing through

You are going to think
I am out of my mind but
sometimes
I pretend I am a tourist
in my town....
Just a traveler passing through
time and place, spacetime and outside
myself.

I examine the flora and fauna,
trees, blades of grass, the dress
of the locals
as though I've never been here before.

I watch the people on the streets, mid-week
converse or casually pass by
with warm smiles
and think it must always be sunny here.

I see dayworkers, most of which
nice enough, don't live here.

The police are all pleasant, people
drive generously,
children are clearly safe
on the streets with all
wheels welcome-
what a world they've made here.

A parade is about to begin,
Homecoming, again.
Art murals on walls,
scenic electric boxes,
cute painted fire hydrants
let no spot
be unbeautified-what a place!

Then I see me
driving around, doing errands,
chores, walking, sitting, reading,
and every time
I think-
It is clear as day,
there is no way 

she is local,
she is not from here.
But look-
she sees me watching, 

she's the only one
aware I'm there.
She smiles,
not like them,
and is clearly miles away.




Image by Robert Payton Reid, 'A summer's daydream' c. 1896 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Cockcrow of the crows and a cockatoo

There are city dwelling birds

that are not your common stool pigeons.

The ravens occupy the east

side of the tracks.

The gulls guard the windy west.

On garbage day they all rise early

not for worms in the green box holes-

they know the small fries

are at the bottom of paper bags.

We had a murder

before our pine tree was felled

from illness. Yet, like serial flyers,

they moved to another pine,

preferring needles and sap

to the plethora of palms;

mexican fan, kintia, canary, 

the King and Queen and the Phoenix.

The ravens also get dates,

taking them out to 

happening intersections

and drop them so they 

get cracked by cars,
rolling through

while the fair gulls glide along

bellies filled with stale soft bread-

And I remember good old Fred.

Taken in and taught by those

crows

how to

blend in seamlessly-though he's a cockatoo.

They fly as one flock

rise and cockcrow,

the gulls sneer and squawk.

The city birds are not blind

deaf or dumb, 

winged with wayward choice

The murder

doesn't mind

one more white bird

or a cock or two. 

Image By Liftarn (Traced from Image:Odin's ravens right.PNG) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Doomsday of Dionysus

If it were dreamt
by a brilliant mind
it would be, come
divine prophecy.
And genius was one
prophecy away from lunacy,
we would certainly
believe
in the phantasy.

Time,
we would learn
to stretch a point
into a limber line,
into an affinity
of likeness in light.

The expiration
and expectation
of the End, of our race
of the chase, over-
taken by night
led a long, long the way
by our own
four shadows.

We would cry,
caulk our eyes
and think again
of never
the same tomorrow,
while waking
through the day
four saking 
the dream, imagining control
over (coming) what may (come)
too tired of trying
to rise again.

Unwound
in the pendulums pause
exhausted
all ready
the urge to be done
with desire
hung over our heads.
It never dawned 

Up 

on us
We will
Be come
intoxicated
incinerated
in opta-mystic yellow
when the sun doesn't show.

The divine mind is “…the brilliant darkness of a hidden silence.”-Dionysus

Image from Splendor Solis c. 1582 (Germany), [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons. 

Flame thrower

The children were called Embers
The parents roaring Flames
and in old age they All
became Coals.

Consumers only content
and subdued when all fuel
has been spent, lying low
until rekindled
into reaction
by a taunting breeze.

Always reaching
Up
for more
while leeching all the colors
and converting it into
expendable heat.

Dancing on destruction,
memories bridging by a spark,
the arc spans its dire
detonation
as quick as a wick
lying
next to another already lit.

Together the family,
kindling flames,
carry their torches
and blames. Sterno
for their kindred Inferno.




Image flame match strike, full color spectrum [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

X Marks the Classism

The night people were quiet and blue.
The day humans fluttered, clashed and clanged.
They never crossed paths.

The winter ones were strong and leathery,
the summer selection was worn and weathered.
Spring would come around
and clear the scene.
Autumn arrived bearing gifts in gads
of epoch proportion.

Meanwhile-
Above, watched over want
Below, held forts in need
None ventured in between.

It had been seen once
long ago, a fleet
was shipped to second
check, the message never
sent to Here.

All told of a peek
over there
where
passers by
wave and meet
upon approaching
the vanishing middle
lies a broken chain
where it was said
Time told them
Everything is different
Now.





Image By Daderot  [Public domain], Astrononmical Calendar, Yunnan, China via Wikimedia Commons.