Night

There were nights when all I could see
were the glistening of stars.
With radiance shown through the galaxy
from beyond the cosmos
The night was beauty of the sky.
Time passed with no words
The only noise I could hear
was the wind whistling through my ears as I laid flat on the cold earth.

I closed my eyes for a second
Breathing was stable and I felt one with the earth
Somewhere else the world was turning and people were moving
but not me, my eyes were closed
Everything was in it's right place.

When it came to be I opened my eyes.
The night sky was dark again as though all the stars suddenly burst
into dust like a clear window into space
The moment had fled away with time.
I got up, brushed the dirt off and
with my hands in my pockets, I walked to the city lights.

Reference

I have seen the best minds, of another time.
I knew them well and confided their secrets
in my heart. I have seen minds devoured and
minds engorged, fattened by the arrogance
of a start above.

When a single sound becomes the echoed chime
or even a blackened expectation of regrets
I saw them, the best of minds drift to sand
slipping through cracks of an impatient dance.
On the blazed stove.

We can sing our songs as loud, or recite
Ourselves like definitions, but falter and fail
At exposing ourselves to the other hole.
The impatience of satisfaction will hold
you down, and crush.

Hold poetry in my face to see if I bite.
Bring the melody to heart and follow a trail
of redundant pacings, hoping to carve a world.
It was all done, and all stories told.
We just might need a push.

Creation, Destruction, and passing from one
to another. I'll weep for the inability.
I'll keep a new wound to be sung about
to the beat of a Civil War Drum

Still Alive.

Shatter.
Shaken Stirrups Spurring
Shit.
Sleep. Syringe, Sleep.
Syringe Sweeps Sleep
from Suddenly Shaking Souls.

My eyes vibrate. How Can I rest with
Staccato Vision.

My ears Tremble like tiny alert rodents
shifting shoots under white blankets.

The smell of ash, and burnt stainless steel
makes me want to vomit.

Vomit seeps from my mouth,
burning my tongue,
scalding my teeth,
terrifying stagnance..

Factories filling for Fecundity.
FORWARD FECUNDITY!

Sheets of glass crashed,
always crashing, grinding.
Eternal dust.
It hurts my lungs.

Syringe does not stay.
Silver fires quiver.

Quick fire, Slaying.
Stay.

Stumble. Trip.
Sorry
Sorry
Sit
sleep sleep stop

What is this mouth I've found.
What. Tongue and Cunt and Heaven
found in sewage.
Life Like.
Cold

Like Life. Like Like, Life still, stilllife.
Still Life Like.

Once upon a time, a little boy stood with his father looking up at the sky, at all the constellations. His father showed him all the shapes he knew, and encouraged him to make his own shapes.
The little boy, fascinated by what he learned, spent weeks under the stars and finally saw one set of stars his father hadn't shown him. He saw a celestial figure- a woman, smiling down with love pouring from her brilliant eyes. And every night he spent under the black sky, he saw the figure gain more brilliance, more complications. Stars extended each lash on her eyes, each fingertip became more delicate, each curve more subtle. The midnight clouds sent her messages to him. Held in by moist arms, caressed by grey dreams, and whispers of eternity, he fell in love with her.
The days became intolerably long. He could only see the night sky framing her divine form. He was living only for her cold embraces. He hated the sun, because he silenced her. He hated the sun for muting his love. Mornings housed dreams of the next night but with overly bitter aftertastes of a honeyed wine.
The patch of grass that housed him soon became so worn in, the earth was pressed into a bed for him - a wedding bed. He soon refused all other things. He drank only the water she sent, and feasted only on her image. Every night his hands gripped the dirt in ecstasy, and his chest heaved and arched toward the sky.
His hands went so deep that roots from trees wrapped around his finger tips. In horror he begged her to lift him, but she only could try to calm him with a gentle smile. Soon his hands became as earthen as the binds that buried them. But still his chest ached upward, yearning for her caress. He strained as much as he could, 'til every ounce of strength was in full use, and to his shock, a blood red pillar spurted from his breast. The pillar grew, and grew, and grew. It grew faster than any hair or nail, or lying nose.
His body, limbs entombed and heart, exploded drew from the grass and crystallized into an emerald monument. His whole body, save his brown earthly hands, and crimson heart became green and flat, as well-bred grass. Except as his head transmogrified, their was no emerald, no brown or red, but a golden crown of daffodils.
Those daffodils spilled out, a yellow ocean from were that crown, as if placed on what once was his head and left to drain across a plain.
There he lays still. With a golden sea, rooted in, and a red pillar that forever reaches high into the chill night fog, aching to hold her hand.

"In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills, And dances with the daffodils."

Harbinger of Return

Riddle me this

It's kind of magnificent how the four forces of the universe (gravity, electromagnetism, strong nuclear force, weak force) are "perfectly" in equilibrium to allow life to sustain on Earth. I had a idea that if the theory of multi-verses are true...then how would the forces act within those parameters? Could life be sustained? Ironic how out of a infinite number of universes...ours is able to balance out the forces of the universe in such a random way.

Daisy

"I'm a mountain that has been moved
I'm a river that is all dried up
I'm an ocean that nothing floats on
I'm a sky that nothing wants to fly in
I'm a sun that doesn't burn hot
I'm a moon that never wants to show it's face
I'm a mouth that doesn't smile
I'm a word that no one ever wants to say."