Sunday, July 28, 2013

Change – A Vanishing Point

From an old wooden bridge appeared change
Flowing out unto the anteroom of the late meridian.
And there, the wares of the autumn equinox lay so strange
Against diming steeled skies; then the coldness ceased frilly thoughts.
 
An incorporeal shadow sways, in a haunting prance,
Moving across the amber grass field with tree stands bereft of life.
A pale grim abounded, riding upon cold metal wheels, in a slow dance
Wearing the dark obsidian colors of death’s presence.
 
His shaded eyes disguising his piercing transformation
As the long horizons give way to the diminishing light
And quietus awaits to gather all for reformation;
Saints and sinners just the same – death keeps no friend.
 
The music nears its end as the waning of the day nears
His long black coat ballooning out to sweep in peril souls.
Long bony fingers snapping in gasping hope while raising nameless fears
And, his vest metal buttons glow brighter with each darken turn.
 
Envelop the surreal moment for if eternity awaits
Then embrace change and all its power – with passion.
Race against the winds of change upon frivolous skates
And find where the vanishing point across that bridge ends.
 
 

Sunday, July 14, 2013

Meridiens at the 13:01 Ellipsis

Meridiens at the 13:01 Ellipsis


Paradoxical grappling of time

With the assayer with the long cloaks;

Three Meridiens, vowing good intention, sit in nude reality.

Maiden Meridien,  temptress sublime,

Will the new day’s journey gain destinations;

Or prove mired - lost in damnations?


Noontide’s Lady Meridien; does she sing of fickly fables

Or of commendable conquests?

Say ye so! Seduced provocateur; or honorable nobleman?

Paths are laden of distracting jezebels

Flowered with evening primrose galore;

Dressed in pearl necklaces of adjunct lore!


Eventide’s Madam Meridien; serves a cold broth of failure

Or succulence from breast of the slain enemy?

Recount each act upon fortune’s elliptical path.

Harness thy loins, for success is its own allure;

Tomorrow’s fate awaits the vanquished prey

Or the exalted hunter - at gloaming of the day.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Night Blindness


Listen dancers of the fire -

the solstice night speaks,

calling all lost freaks

to dance round and round the pyre

 

That consumes measured songs

into a voiceless white noise

while smoke wisps away all poise;

leaving smoldering wrongs.

 

Bring the executioner sacred libation;

he may fashion your resolutions

and your egoistic restitutions

into a final merciful liberation;

 

Beware! - This is neither a kindness

nor is it promise of saving grace -

merely a respite from the flame’s face  

and a moment of pure night blindness.