November 04, 2006

What's it all for?

I want to write funny poetry
Stand up comedy poetry
The kind of poetry that brings tears to your eyes and makes your stomach hurt
The kind of poetry that has you sitting in the fourth row
To the side in the hope that my eyes won't catch you
And the words won't speak to you

I want to write movie scene poetry
The kind that speaks to you in moving picture and sound
The kind that has you pondering the hidden meaning when the words have long been spoken
Or dazzles you with words that explode, crash and burn without CGI and any other digital endeavours that may mislead the eye

I want to write poetry that puts Picasso, Monet and Van Gogh to shame
As the words splash a multitude of colour on your mental canvas
Poetry that reaches into your chest, grabs your heart and squeezes it gently

I want to write poetry to dance to
The rare kind that has you bobbing your head to melody only you hear
Shaking your ass and tapping your feet to words that breath rhythm
The kind of poetry that mixes breakbeats with symphony, laid beneath a voice that sings straight through you
As opposed to at you

I want to write early morning poetry
A mantra that brings peace calm and hope
Meditation poetry for the mystery of sunrises
When the world seems clean and peaceful for one short, colourful moment
The kind that makes you feel whole again
And closer to heaven than life in the womb

I want to write cosmic poetry
The kind that traces the rims of the moon's craters
Kisses the stars and basks in the glory of the sun
The kind that orbits randomly between planets,
Even Pluto, despite the demotion,
And rides on the winds of meteors
As they journey through galaxies
In search of their final resting place

October 31, 2006

shadow talking

darkness is the light
it leads me to moments of silence
where truth resides

the daily cacophony
blinds the mind
to what lies in the residues of essence

the winds howl songs of confusion
the sounds of the city deafen
the sights are burdens
tattooed on the hearts of children

time never stands still
laughter is a rarity
sanity is a luxury
hope is the sole provider
dreams trusty companions
sleep infrequent

happiness comes only to those who find silence in the shadows

October 26, 2006

closed doors

talk to me
tell me of the winds
and the stories the whisper
tell of me of the words
silence speaks
words that i do not hear
they carry your thoughts
though they remain hidden from me

share with me
allow me a glimpse to the space
beyond your pupils
where your truth resides
allow me moments of clarity
dialogue to replace our parallel monologues
we can only be we with we
instead of the you and i
we seem to languish in

all i ask for is you
please let me in
i'm tired of knocking

October 24, 2006

I can't think

I hear gunfire
When the lights are out
When the streets are dark
When all sleep
I hear gunfire
It rattles within my skull
Blinding
Deafening
Unrelentless
Gunfire

October 23, 2006

Lost words lack destination

Lost thoughts resurface
Lead us to old truths
Create ripples in today's reality
The past is no longer what it used to be
The future is a place of fear
Where madmen roam beyond their politics
Dreams and ambitions are not the same
It is the ambitious who weave their darkness into the fabric of this world and the next
The dreamers are content to exist in isolation travelling between the 4th and 5th dimensions
But never the first
There is a fine line between poetry and sermons
Although poetry seeks no worshippers
The words mean the same
It is the speaker that brings down the walls of insanity and defines their truth
These words have no destination
They meander through the tentacles of life seeking the words that have come before
And have long since faded into the libraries of time

October 12, 2006

The end of silence makes no sense

We leave traces on the stars
Traverse galaxies randomly
Hitchhiking our way between meteorites

When I sleep the possibilities are infinite
Deep in fantasy, I awaken to reality

Which is truth?
The world behind my eyes
Or the world before them
We live in life's emergency room
Bullets pockmarking the walls
Battlefields are whenever we want them to be
And, often, where we least expect them to be

I hide behind words
And pray for a brighter tomorrow

October 05, 2006

Poetry

Poetry is ...

....... the carving of flesh from the bones of angels
...... moving parts of the mind rattling hollow
...... children laughing at silence
...... moonbeams caressing a lover's brow
...... murder by random words
..... the sound of stars breaking
...... the warmth of a womb
...... nails being pulled with a pliers
...... your first kiss
...... a dying breath
...... passion undefined

October 03, 2006

Bird in the hand

The answers are in the silence
Listen to carefully
And they'll pass you by
Excessive thought births a vaccuum
It is in the doing that we truly live
The heroes of this reality are the trees
The birds linger and are given life by the wind
Beneath the soil is truth
Between earth and sky
We live in an illusion
I know why the caged bird sings
She recognises our common capitivity
Within the bars she is truly free
While we are imprisoned in the city
Long, cold, damp streets and alleyways
Lead us willingly to the comfort of purgatory
We prop ourselves us with caffeine in its various forms
Death comes to us all
Our clotted blood thickens within dried veins
The maggots have gone on strike
The quality of feed has diminished
Who knows what you can catch from the polluted dirt
The cynic is reborn

I don't want to

I have stood on the precipe
And laughed into the wind
I have dance on the edge of a razor
And conversed with the dead
I run on the cliff's edge
With utter disdain for the rocks below
I have lived and loved
I inhaled and exhaled
I have done it all
But I am still young
The future is a meandering road across uncompromising mountains
The future is a thought lingering in the back of your mind
The future is not worth living for
Only today matters