We are guaranteed to fall.
Some fall daily and others yearly.
The potholes perfectly fit our fetal position.
The familiarity of these dark, harsh pits make us mull a thousand questions.
Those of us who are most afraid draw drunken maps across our life path.
They say they know how to avoid tripping and plunging.
Either there is a way to fill in the darkness or that the path we walk is our problem.
These answers are nothing but the wailing of a psychotic dreamer, one who has closed their eyes within the mud walls and fallen into a fitful dream.
They scream muddled words, meaningless to anything but their own confused delusions. Others run through the fields hand in hand.
Like soldiers they drag their exhausted brethren out of trenches and march forward.
Yet one too many falls, broken limbs and screams of protests leaves mortally beaten bodies.
Whispers that the end was never in sight falls deaf into a wall of sounds.
Faces stare into the dark abysses.
Zombie hands tear at ankles pulling women, children and the empathetic into mass graves.
The soft earth bubbles and sinks around those who stand still.
A rhythmic thump keeps one enduring, a vision of light keeps one hoping and song sung helps one remember.
One must embrace blindness, embrace dirt, embrace ear splitting screams, embrace surrender, embrace perseverance for no other purpose than to spit at the undead.
To stomp upon their skeletal digits and wake up the drunken dreamers.
To convince them that meaningless is more meaningful when hand in hand at full sprint.
The Devil waits for me at the chapel,
standing tall on the hill dressed in black.
A graveyard counts down for my exit,
jumping away to escape the voices.
A war, a war dances in the air,
thousands of flying siblings connecting in battle.
Corpses line the stone,
struggling and bonded to victory’s spoils.
Seen the sadness that kindness brings
watched the lovers words become insufflated dust
walked into shadowy rooms of old ghosts
yet I still don’t know my deeds
stared out at speeding lands and clouds
forced my heart to open just to shut it tight
studied the annals of precious human lives
yet I still don’t know my fears
loved my mother and kissed my father
cried and thrashed with a child, with my brother
held and whispered my self to my lover
yet I still don’t know my heart
controlled the flow of energies lust
relinquished my self onto others trust
listened to what I should, did what I must
yet I still don’t know freedom
Sunset canal with light on the waters surface
drawing away from me to reveal
dark green web
old boats dead, floating and used
water drops break a messy surface of
lily pads and bottles
I feel swept up in your love
without you I am swirling down the drain
spinning and seeing the eye of the whirlpool
You pull me under as I claw for identity
and then I am with you
I dont want to swim again
I just want to float without a thought
to be breathless
to be motionless in time
I want to be free of desire
free of my solid body
I’ll remember you rainbow
growing slowly across the grey sky
capturing the attention of all
with incomparable colour you remind me
dazzling with contrasts you capture me
shining where the sun won’t
I’ll remember you rainbow
Come to the harbors edge
with its sea of blue and buildings of stone
draw my gaze of darkest brown
then sink deeper into steps
I’ll call forth the sounds of guitar strings
drawing a long wail of the breeze
You’ll look up at me, then you won’t
easing the current with your breath
soft glows of future lights
electrifying a softening sun and a forthcoming night
send away the ships of old, the ships of gold
relinquish the photo of life and the eye of the earth
sit with me with grit between your toes
the soft call of trumpets and pens between our fingers
Just sit and listen to the whistler
hear their call and deed of joy
temporarily falling upon the ears of the arrogant
follow their call into your mind
where darkness resides and yearns
you hear an unbroken bond that lies in knots
and see a furrowed brow
upon yourself you carry this sight
as a mantle of personal hell
it tears at you, the sounds of joy
like glaciers tear across stone
you screech and growl and throw your hands into the air
a question falls upon your lips, dry and salty
why have you come again, whistler
Bring upon me the daze
set my skin upon the softness
the burdens of the mind resting on another
as the other embraces my neck
finding my thoughts astray and letting them stay that way
a kiss from a known stranger
a trip down the stairs
false memories of gentle rocking and the taste of warm milk
eyes afraid to open
yet urging to see
colours spark like fireworks
then wash away like the shore
eyes break open to darkness and ears hear every creak and bump
senses aware and senses dull
life beginning to end and begin again
until tomorrow
Thoughtlessness like a fog setting
sadness like a cold wind
addiction loud like a dogmatic church
all have their day and night
bringing forth their friends inside your skin
dead thoughts gather and creep from organ to organ
here we are in the dark clouds
wishing away the rain
rain falls anyway, any day
wetting the suns dust
sickly mud under your boots
yet sweet oasis for roots
its hard to appreciate what you cant see
growing deep inside out of sight
Autumn sky came one day
newborn laughing and singing to mother
Autumn ran its course through green and brown
sky turned the tide and newborn spoke
questions leaving lips and falling upon ears
Winter cold and lonely touching the sleeping
reality fell like snow on all
sinking deep into bones and blood
forced to bear the time of shivers
newborn now crawls and screams
awkward spring reveals raw grey soil
all that was cast upon is now bare
flowers are unseen, seedlings unknown
those that know or seek gold tend the earth
child feels each plow and heave
child fights for trees but is handed shovels
Summer creams forth the flowers and fruits
blooming month in and out
eat or stockpile, view or prune
young man grows pride grows strong
summer burns skin, burns land, burns heart
young man wanders and wonder
what will Autumn bring for him
Photo Credit to the amazing Tristan Hurzeler.
Magogy 