the playwrightGod is a playwright.He sits in the back rowof velvet seats and claps160 bpm after every act.He closes his eyes whenthe audience laughs together,cries together.His play is very good,and He knows this.After the show,they always ask,“How did you makethe characters sovulnerable? Sohonest? So real?”He shrugs in his tweedjacket with elbow pads,frowns slightly, says,“The characters got away from me.I did not make them this way.”
Forming HelixForming Helixsit at the rootof totem poles,emblem blazephoenix scarsinto token shardsand let heat signaturesspike, sparklike alcohol ciphers.gazes glazed vitreous viewthat triggers starrysky-gaze stareseyeshot into shaky acuitybefore sclera’s bloodshotat divinityfalling likethunder discharge.autoscopy astral projectionas it spiralsandswirlsaround thunderbirdforming helix.
IlluminatedLight from within and light from without,Mingling in a dancing prism,Reflecting gold, red, blue,Reuniting orange, purple, green,Again to become a single beam,Focused illumination.
In a Moment of ClarityUnder the two way mirror below each layer of the faded paint of a coffin, lied the liar laying alone and undead. Laughing in amnesia's grasp at his own reflection upon seeing himself through crazed eyes.I know the story that is told for the doomed soul, and how short it is will remind you of condemnations meaning. A guinea pig by his own curiosity laid flat in useless soils, his was a cliche tale of woe and an ending without twists.A turn for the worst will come with the lights switched on and the glass broken, and his first steps will be into a world without law or regulation, yet a prison all the same where the guards are inmates and the Warden was once near flawless.A hooded figure had come sporting typical black for the cliche fool as told in countless fables, and delivered unto Hell an unrepentant sinner for whom God had wept just like the innumerable before him. The fool will weep from now on.Biographies for these characters are fables tattooed on the golden calf upon which t
Nightly RitesStrike the match And light the wicksOf your blessed Candle sticks.A star of fiveUpon the ground,In the middleSit ye down.Bow your headAnd chant your prayersAs on the wallsDance transient flares.Hold your palmsAbove each flameWhen you call outEach god's name.Over spirit,Mother Gaia,I supplicateFor my desire;And to the earth,And to the blaze,In Cernunnos'Name I praise.Give me strength,Grant me vigor,And courage when My fears grow bigger.Horned GodOver nature,I summon forthMy inner creature,So bless me nowTo know your ways,To know the earthAll of my days.Three candles through,And two to go,To Goddess BrigidI whisper low.Matron of poetsAnd of rhymed word,Let my lyricalSpell be heard.Goddess, give meThe power to bendAs flexible as The water and wind,So that I may learnHow to adjustWhen an attackMy enemies thrust.Let me be kindAnd light as air,Let my heartBe good and fair;And like the ocean,Grant me depth.Grant me
To The WoodsHere I stand again in the midst of a whipping deserthere I stand where my dreams had preached I gohere where they counselled my inspiration would comehere where they championed the cause of enlightenmentin the desert I have this rashmy skin is peeling from my bonemy soul is stricken with a feverI cannot think out past the sandsthe arid breeze now shrinks my lungI know there lies an oasis aheadI see the forest for the treesI must proceed beyond the sandsand leave the devils out in the dustback where sand never swallows treeIn the distance I see a forest for the thousand staggering pinesit beckons like a thundering guardian bedecked in shimmered silencethere within ten thousand ripened possibilities away like sucking fruitsand I know that the bold man would leap in charm and wisdom to tasteforward I am boldly movingfeet are scalded by the wasteevery step strips skin from boneand soon I fear I shall be gonebut I see my goal – I will persistfoot by foot I carry
Retrograde LullabyeA slow fallback into the primordial oozehappiness and sadness are equally elusiveThe human condition does not allow onewithout the otherAfter a time, we cannot but helpturn tragedy into comfortand angst into homecomingfor nature does not decree thisonly we, as we heed the call of the oozeRestless are we who sense the slide of timeThought cannot save usEmotion betraysWe must embrace eternity in the briefest of momentsand ride scarecely coffined into the ooze
She Speaksjust a kiss to make it bettera kiss, a kiss, a kiss a kiss,oh I see the tension in your eyeslit by the flexing of your irissuch a lovely flower growing thereI see it rising from your souldistance rips a tender dream in twainand violence springs between the linesthat tension speaks in cunning volumesand speaks in shades no other knowsa brush across a supple cheeka hand, a finger and a palmthere I see the pulling of the jawa word bespoke on silent wingsyet silence swallows beneficenceI shall scry the Runes within your soulan ocean mounts the ship out in my dreamswhere starlight nights choke wandering towersand lighthouses whisper evermores across the wavesin a language no other soul but yours would care to knowinand outlike a tidal pondbreathit comes and goeswavesspread like fire inside of frostall the colours bundle up like hedge-craftstolen away like villager’s luckand gone upon the hooves of moonstruck sheepthey colours flow like thunder in a glass
Greater HalfThe bitter fight for the greater half,Rages in my spirit,The grudges I do not desire,Sink like stones in my heart.To not leave them in the dust,To be strong I must,To fight to forgive,To endure like a mountain against the howling winds.But I am not rock,I bend like seaweed in turbulent waters,The forces I can barely bear,Would I let them rip me apart?As I sink in this sea,Held down by my weak state,The pride of my past does not exist today,As I am.Hands tied behind my back,Tongue coated in poison,Swallow or spit?One choice is golden.Only with water I can be cleansed,To smooth my rough edges,To give me will and strength,So I can be the person I really am.