Remember

All the remember whens, made a pact

Unspoken of. Somewhere, beside the ghost in you

the ghost of you

Filling the roundabouts in your way

As if, folding a page in half, cutting holes

Where the ink permeated most

To create a perfect mirror

Of our burdens, the hollow

Just being

Reaching common ground

As if to say; “hey, I do my thing, you do yours”

The rest, we can discard

It doesn’t matter.

 

As the smoke lingers

In and out, of rehab

I mean, most of the time, no one quite speaks literally.

They don’t know, they can only assume

of what it takes to shatter a soul.

What robs you of your sleep, probably, maybe, most definitely, what do I know?

Fragmented  little puzzles, crossroads of the mind.

This piano, these hands, this rusty ol’ surface.

The out of tune, the mystery yet to swoon.

You can’t mold me, this telltale realm of space, my voice metamorphosed.

The margins within are so narrow, the wisdom of things scarce.

The fear of your own oblivion, you say you wait for nothing

but the gutless in you knows, that’s what you have been surrounded with

and so the familiar comforts in its veil.

This overflow of the conventional, makes me yearn for masks

aesthetically unacceptable, it amuses me.

The joyous music, the bitter tongue.

But then again, tenderness outburst,

defies brutal rage, beauty repelled at those that sought it only with their eyes.

You stare long enough at the gush, static motion

of paralyzing waves; this sonic rumble, and you understand.

The stronger they rush, the slower they recede

The dominance in the force, a halt in the hearts

In the eternity of a second, stretchered far too long, far too far.

Subtle

The smoothest crimes, are perfected subtly
Less asphyxiated, too little to be this much
Punctuation marks, shouldn’t be judged
Slamming doors shut, shunning the ambient
A hollow sand dune you dip your head in
And walk in, with your hands
I mean,
To be quite honest
Sometimes I walk for miles and still wonder where everyone’s at
And other times, I look straight at you, without moving, and crumble
Fear of abandonment; and all you did was abandon
Attachment disorder; and all you did was pull and cut
Hold and slaughter
The wire that wasn’t meant to be touched
Or so it said
On the last note you left
After all,
Smooth crimes are subtle

The man in the sky

Your shape becomes transparent

Hands that spoke for you,

Now linger in this demise

Leave no clue, maybe tomorrow

Hope is one filthy bastard, isn’t it?

Maybe the day after, maybe never

You are bartered, material for sentiment

Word for word. You are not ready

My trademark is the wind. What’s yours?

Kind of like, a crying violin

The man in the sky takes credit for

Borrowings, these. Carefully spilling unto your sponge-like swaying

Diverted attention

Chasing feathers
Around a halo
Forefeit
Like tender furr
A soft job
Because I mean
What else can you say
When a dart board
Hid magnets around its double and triple rings
Making you
Victorious
By default

If you ever
Just ever
Listened to what you heard
When your attention was elsewhere
You’d know
Just how wrong
Your own capacity to understand was

The work of a slave
Basic human rights
A silent clocktower
Only screaming to the mutes

There is fault found in the same mud
We swum in when we slithered
Past the pure and past the river
I saw land and sky in
Everything
But my own self

Memorabilia

Fear is induced, not intrinsic
‘One man’s trash, is another man’s treasure’
It’s a wave crashing the survivors
Death in itself a life, survival

The sound of the bugle
Lets you hold on to the feeling
Stunted growth, yellow leaves
An oak tree poisoned by your baggy sleeves

An old man counting his own wrinkles
He knows what he’s looking at,
A red carpet turning blue
A shiny armour, baggage rusted

The quicker you slay the demon
The more you tempt the alpha
The more calculated each growl; for territory
Under your den

You have created a shelter
For the wicked
You have sealed unread warnings
Without remembering their name

A name
A calling
And it’s their head that turns
When you applaud the random

Don’t rub it in, don’t praise the thumb
It’s the detailed print, embarking spaces left for the wild winds
Memorabilia
Sticky feet on the walk of Fame

The effect that makes you cringe
The lies that make you smile
Window shopping by the dead sea
Tasting nothing but salt

A mad dog, unleashed
Barking at its own reflection up the sky
The pursuit of a noble pursuit
Makes you lose grip of the moral

Raise your head, lower your eyes
‘Don’t look at me’
Looking at the enemy, makes you lose focus
Of the idea you’re defending

Cards unfolding, spreading at the turning table
A locker screaming open its own code
Jacks and queens, bow down to the Joker
It, unable to laugh twice at the same joke

Kiss their feet with your tongue
As if mint could ever cover the filth
Be a foul mouth, be absurd
Crossing the line, is not a literal term anyway

Trying to figure myself out, in others
Pictures capture your entire soul
Each shot a mystery of unlit rooms
Red flags are not alarming, they bring out the dangers whitin yourself

You don’t see seeds rupture as they bring forth a tinier seedling
Just tonight, they lit the underground world
With the birth of a no name
Another pretend, claiming to be an original…

A subtle ascension

But that’s home,

and jasmines lose their fragrance overnight.

The Holy Spirit, should never be compared

To the spirit unfulfilled, gravely disturbed.

Maybe an amputee can tell the pain of pruning, branched trees

Persistent in their reform to grow inward, rooting soil deeper than sticks and poles

Yet, like antennas clashing with the nearest catastrophe

The human mind wants to reverse the white noise, into a state of rhapsody

Maybe a thing or two makes you think, maybe question

Have you thought of all that doesn’t?

Weaklings thinking themselves good had they lame paws

And transparent egotism, a way upward, a way away

A word or two makes you heal. A sentence that turned into a squeal

A laugh that wasn’t laughter

It is subtle ascensions like these, my comrade

That regurgitate prayer, back to the monk who took a vow of silence for his remaining life.