Ahead, to His Hand

The ache inflated slowly, pressing the blood instead of pumping it into swelling gray matter. Flaring and spreading it’s source as a Tesla-coil does, the nodes and nerves rolled and jerked inside the flesh supporting them until there were no other sensations to be held but alertness and suffering.

One too many nights spent cast out across a stone floor wore thin on his skin, his bones and his heart-like flesh that pumped and quivered black and blue in the cavernous stone that was home, bed and tomb all at once.

This was not new, so there was no wetness to his face save the perspiration from unrest and the murk of the unyielding sponge concrete clasping tight to all the wet and the rotten drippings it could suck out of it’s own dead stomach.

As the hours slid on and the pain began to recede back to his mind’s caverns, the man stood and was presented in the dimmest of living light cast across the walls of the earth’s unyielding organ, yet the syrupy iron rust that poured from the jut of his hauntingly pale fist showed intention to make it yield.

Placing a quivering paw against the smoothest spot an arming his blasphemous pick at the right angle for force he screamed a ferocity that wailed around and swirled inside him with the echoes of the pit as to give him a manic courage so violent and raw that he could ram the blunt, meaty stick into a lightly crumbling dent mottled with that rusty iron syrup but dry and clear in his eyes as the loss of his own life.

For each crack he bellowed and blared and roared louder and longer, drowning out the fear and madness that would befall him if the cracking sound revealed itself to not be the dent, going on for hours until exhaustion, days until malnutrition and weeks into starvation until the jut of the knuckle was no more that a jut of the arm.

And then, when his strength knew defeat and all was swept up in a vacuous dead void, so too was his arm as it breached the point. Prying and plying for the sweet air that could only be where his arm had gone before him he cast out rubble and skin until his head could stick in and at that moment he had lead his head to where his arm had already gone, and the inky black void was silent, and still, and dead.


There’s nothing to fear but nothing
If something can be cut away
Voids array where we see something
Twixt atoms in a bond array.

Atoms case by case affix case
Affix by pace, by practice, set
Practice set to set living’s pace
Livings to get to timings bet

But rhythm does not cut thumbing
Between holes where the fabric’s cut


As waning stars fell far beneath the sky
And the fading children began to sing
Of losses and life, of remorse and fate
Which upon death rides wild, rampant and hard
And so taking apart reasons we hold.
Sheilds and sacred weapons begin to fall
In chorus that shakes and divides us all
While feeling the sting of refrain sung thus;

“O’ Rider Black, please take us back
To when the stars did rule the sky
When you fly do not break our spears
Like dreams of hope and children’s tears
Wishing to fly, not wonder why
They left us in the gray and black”

So tragic days come where children cry out
For death pervades divine instead of life
While cursing your smoke, your greedy white lie
And staining those most pure bleaches and soaps
And the rhyming’s dying inside my soul
For I cannot maintain foolish old dreams
But fighting your choice and raising my voice
As screaming draws on those shining stars back

“O’ Rider white, please free the night
To when the heavens still could cry
With tears of light and holy might
that could never tell us a lie
For we are children who use sight
To guide us to that starry sky
We don’t care about wrong or right
Because we knew when to ask why”

The future does sing this refrain as new
For old golden glories never come back
And seeing new youth cry, thirsting for change
For they connect, project, protect their things
For this era cannot display its stars
With cafes made stale by wifi phone bars
Where questions they ask are nothing else more
Then reflexs with hands that replaced the chore

The Street Reminds Me Of Home

Sheer cliffs of splashed mortar and brick
Splitting sunlight besides the sky
Slipping smiles on cobblestone
While echoes tell how I’m alone
Until bright sounds screech on the sly
At night, when hours slide by quick

The chasm of two walls hold up
The dam of cacophony clean
So in chaos a world serene
Fills the corridor like a cup

Then, as the springtime rain cascades
Daylight shines a prism in grey
So that each of us may wonder
If all these senses we ponder
Can crack concrete with green and fey
Before the homestead we set fades

Equinoxal Ascent

In the white haze of spring is born
The marked eye’s corona to stare
At an opal stage hand’s sojourn
To front and center up the stair

Wrought up is he who stands to sing
An aria for autumn’s bow
To the Dreamland’s warm whispering
Of decaying hopes none allow

And a perchance here holds no stake
As nightmares ride on hot rot’s wake

If It Helps

Cast under layers of effort and strain
A core of white fury trembles in quakes
In heat that burns outer casings and bakes
Walls blocking tension while numbing the pain
As long as they retain what shatters and breaks

I could plaster you, then re-master you
Smooth out some rough edges worn on by wear.
Won’t reinvent you, try to dement you;
I seek whats beneath to show how I care.

Gaps between plating are grating your song
Each one is some detail forming to fit
On top of the scoring forming a hit
You’ve taken before from people so wrong
I can see why concern moves you to quit

Please don’t back from me or distract from me
Your feelings are something I’d like to share.
Won’t reinvent you, try to dement you;
I seek whats beneath to show how I care.

If it could help you
To stay together
I’d leave forever;
I don’t think thats true…
So let me stay in whatever measure

However now just please let there be us
I can’t help but write you, naked and bare
Won’t reinvent you, try to dement you;
I seek whats beneath to show how I care.

Frustrated and Born Low

Disconcerted and born so low
My weary brow cast off my soul
To apathetic brine below
An eventide broken and foul

Once mournful pledged I was made clean
In fire’s wake with gods serene
Until flame purged my flesh so lean
That bones strode black on curtained scene

Then scents to sway a hunger lost
To chilling gales disquiet tossed,
Past chasms spanned by rime and frost
Disorient each face they crossed

As hallowed soil prey to rot
Bled hearthen smoke the fissures caught
All poise retained was then for naught
When the stone split and showed my lot

Rage bore a light clashed in old fear,
Combated madness so severe,
Relinquished the hate some revere,
But anger scarred with stinging sear