Saturday, September 17, 2016

Unexpected, life mine...

Unexpected, life mine,
Not as predicted, I've become.
I didn't know - I would lead this way,
Nor you, I guess, we'd say.

And yet you faded, but muse,
Forgotten, archetype, distant fuse.

Unexpected, path mine,
Not where I projected, far in time.

And the winds rustle, a breeze, light, upon frozen heart mine.
I cannot pretend to have predicted, the future soon.
In my heart, hope or ruin.

Wednesday, September 14, 2016

Mixed into life with chance, but lacking anything not yet bittersweet

I take my coffee, swirled with intermingled energy,
I forget my headache, my whelm of whelping concerns,
Headache, thoughts, any name you wish,

I take my coffee, my tongue, it burns,
And with it, my luck squeals and screams.

Memento Mori... The call of the grave.
And the Grim stalks closer with the passing of every day.
I toss another coin, perhaps I'll lose my of sudden closer tail,
For the world has turned, and again, the day is made anew,
With new thoughts to penetrate from another exterior world.

Frozen, like a character stuck forever in a horror scene,
But my fears are simpler, nuanced, more sophisticated,
Not but opaque, to any but me, though shallow as the Bering sea.
My terrors, too latent, profound to glimpse,
Except in my slight expression, fears a camera obscura would all but misread.

And in it, despair, a seed.
And in it, despair, none but me can read,
Even if they understood the foreign type I find an engrossing read,
Luck, libations and deeds.
Respice post te. Hominem te memento.

Hominem te memento.

Yet, my face, it would not display my thoughts, tedious silky weave.
I add a little milk, and sip my coffee, before time takes its potency.
With savage purity, and nothing sweet, it gradually invigorates me.

And in a game of toss and woe, life,
The background, and the grave, they always win.

I take my coffee, and read a little,
In a tongue, as burnt and unsophisticated as what I read,
And pretend I'll yet have good luck, good fortune,
Not the comeuppance due all who are, for a time, alive.

And I will out of bitterness, for a future,
A path to impede, for even a second, or a lifetime,
Memento Mori... The call of the sombre grave.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

It catapulted you through your many happy dreams

Remember me, the shadow, the one you once shared your hopes with,
Remember the things you told me, as you stood before the empty void,
Forget not my woes, and the love we once had honoured,
Forget me not... forget me, but remember a few of our moments.

Remember when you tried to convert me, to a God in whom you no longer believe.
Remember all your certainty, sometimes I wished for it too.
And I wasn't insulted, when you asked it of me, but I stuck somehow to my lesser beliefs.
You had such steam running through you, it catapulted you through your many happy dreams.
But you never once lost my esteem.
I wonder where your passion went, which had such concern for little old me.
And my lesser God has yet to abandon me.
And I still hold my lesser beliefs.

Remember when you talked of marriage, of your plans for us to elope.
We haven't spoken in many years, it's something that was once your hope.
If only I had held your beliefs, which have long since gone up in smoke,
If only I'd been good enough, as good as that of which you spoke.

Remember well, how you looked down upon those whom you now best resemble.
How you spoke of your vision for them, them who now mirror your heart and trembling soul.

And I wonder if you've found some right or wrong, amidst the grey of your world,
And whether your hopes still remain in some escape to be bought, for the wage of your salt.

And I mutter words in a language long dead,
And bow down still, with my lesser thoughts in my head.
And shadows pass before me, as candle light flickers ahead.

And I am glad I did not change for you,
In fact, I've not altered much at all...

And though I hardly remember your name or your face,
I remember when you asked me to change, to become something other, greater than little meek me.
And I feel relief in these shadows, as I softly worship my lesser God,
A slow river, not swift passion, my lesser, lesser beliefs...

I hope you somehow found the peace you sought,
You always jumped for a hope.