Salvation

There's someone there to save me. The lights. The guardian angel. The nearness of death's door. You shepherd me away, without knowing how close I came. It's hard not to consider, now that I know, for I could have transformed into a ghost. All the tears and joy that people would have cried and felt, and still be feeling, if I were to have succumbed.

Our bodies are so durable and yet fragile, utterly perplexing to ponder. I was once a baby, now I am racing (hurtling even) to the end, not knowing when, sooner or later, in the meantime just being saved. Someone there to love me, someone is there. Doing the best they know how, putting a forcefield around my body whole.

Those little butterfly thoughts, they were almost set free, for now though they flutter and vibrate, all huddled together. One day they shall be released and Heaven-bound become.

I know I was lucky. I know you saved me. Salvation comes, thank the Lord it comes.

What's Next?

The barrage, the unknown. Whatever could be riding a wave this way next. Who knows, the eternal inquisition. The answers always come, sometimes when we really don't expect. Say something of meaning rather than just any old throwaway words. Speak from the heart. Otherwise, why bother?

I don't know how I will remember you, if I ever escape. I feel sure it will not be with fondness. It will sit somewhere with invisible brothers and people who care only for money. Those who don't feel nor think their way, but simply watch others fall at their own expense, as they try to climb for a higher view. Of a bloodbath they could have helped to avoid. One day, perhaps, you will see things as they truly are. For now, it is evident you are blind. Living life in some tunnel, that consumes you, it possesses you. The city. One of the vultures now are you, seeking that on which you shall feast, to ensure your own survival.

I don't know what's coming next, but you won't be there. You never were. You were born with no heart. What a work of art.

They Brought Me Flowers

They sit beside me
In a sawn off bottle of plastic
Filling the room
A few small flowers
They look like everything
Undelivered
Finally there
They had been uprooted
Now kept me company
From love
With love

They brought me flowers
Pennies of love
Bought them for me
Unfathomably
Always I miss those petals
Now they are near
God, I love that one
Couldn't imagine such eyes
Or other walls

We tick with time
Musical passion
Songs and hurt and gongs
We are leaving here today
Tomorrow we shall see
She brought me flowers
For the road
For our journey
Darling
We never need look back

You Are Not There

I'm leaving here. I'm leaving you for good. You are not there (when I needed you). All that was wanted was magic, all you do is disappoint. Somewhere something beautiful waiting, why let it wait longer? You had other plans, so do I. I am engulfed in these tragedies, for seek them not did I. They chase me through blackened streets, snapping at my clicking feet. It was miles from here, where you were. You didn't understand. I'm better on my own. Walls are us. Around us, crashing down, letting down us.

Nothing will ever be the same as it was, especially not when we imagined it all from the start.

The Polish Thank You

Close To The Edge

How can we come so close, on so many occasions, permanently on some dangerous periphery of things, and yet not fall off? Gravity doesn't pull so hard, after all. There is some weight on shoulders. There is her force that also pulls down, and yet we stand up, we walk tall, well, as tall as we can walk, and we dabble with dark magic on the fringes.

Perhaps it is to feel far brighter and more alive than to reside many moons from here, safely tucked away in some imaginary forcefield, held in by lies, and rules, and secret dictatorships. Close to the edge, and perhaps you will fall off, but that feeling of falling, I imagine, also to be far greater than the safety that isn't even a reality.

Roots Are Screaming

Life ticks on. I hear your call, but it doesn't quite make sense. There is much on this mind, sharply feeling the brunt from all directions. Time marches. It is coming for us all. I think of a dream, or did it really happen...

I watch her bend down, tear a beautiful little weed from between the paving stones on the driveway, and I think to myself 'roots are screaming.' I can feel the agony of that living organism. The small things, they just seem so grand at times. All the corners we turn and yet backwards are we. Magnificent we are. Lost in a multitude of things. 

Perhaps it was real, it certainly seems vivid. Like some polished stone, carefully attended. It was an odd day, yeah, even by the usual frame. I guess we only get deeper and further, no let up, just let downs. The sky, so grey, and somehow it moves us to other quarters. I try to think about what is behind the clouds, not what they make me feel, as they attempt to shroud my spirit.

From here I can see it all happening. The carnivores are coming...