it’s funny what goes through
the mind
laying here alone,
fan blades turning in the heat
of darkness,
and you’re already gone
yet i’m smelling coffee
as if you made it in the morning
for me before you left
and i think perhaps that
i’m imagining things
until I realize it’s a skunk outside-
who would have thought
that a skunk would smell
like coffee?
i guess i miss you.
lost to words trapped inside a flowing mind
there’s no where to go with these feelings
but through
and though the length of time to surpass
this pain is mighty
how can the a flower flourish without sun
or rain?
oh, the road is merciless, and the time
dear, and ideas that linger on the edges
of unmoving lips
are as pregnant as silence…
this journey, though walked slow,
is but a trip towards stars
that are yet unknown
so feet move, one by one, towards
a destiny sought by a higher road
this slow death robs the heart
of passion and flame
just a slow drip of gray nothing
that lines a normal day
and this fire that burns, the heat
cannot stay when the drawl of nothing
sucks oxygen from air
and joy from an imaginative heart
oh this ever so tedious march-
death couldn’t come soon enough!
blue striped suits, and fake smiling
and deficit eyes that stare…
i am dying and don’t know how
i even got here…
awoken is this tired heart,
by morning’s light and song-
choraliers of hope upon
branches singing
of love’s sweet golden dawn…
oh songbirds of my heart,
keep ringing,
until this old soul sings along!
as sunshine flows,
my heart is brimming,
with memories of melodies,
lost to time and gone…
unopened doorways
harboring darkness and fear
outstretch whispers
calling to me-
it’s a graveyard of memory
that lingers within the deepest
corners of my hidden thought
binding me with secrets
untold and wistfully forgotten…
though the night weighs heavily
upon my soul
i hate more than i accept
and will not open that threshold
for fear of falling into the darkness
i lock inside there-
there’s no hope for letting go
and no resolve when i cannot
even acknowledge the lies
that so linger quietly within my heart…
this broken receiver
dangling upon the edges of my heart
delivers a cold silence
to my longing soul-
connection’s gone dead
leaving only emptiness…
and though awakened my eyes
might see, they are blinded
by the nothing that lingers
upon this quiet line of
surviving
oh how i wish for electricity
to awaken my heart
with a bolt of divine energy
for the nothing that dwells now
within my own darkness
is a void that imprisons all passion
and desire
standing upon this jagged
cliff
watching eagle wings glide
and water crash on rocks below me-
such that my entire body,
longing to fly,
ponders jumping from the very
edge at which I stand
and releasing my soul
back to the expanse of quiet
from which I became…
for the path where my feet
now find themselves
is sorrowful and full of pain-
i am lost to the clouds that
hover within my heart
and the wind that won’t silence
my mind
oh to be free from the shackles of
such life that binds me so
breaking glass
falls upon the steps at which I stand-
cowardly afraid to pick it up;
callously worried about myself
and how those shards might hurt me-
with no regard to the bloodshed
created for those who walk alongside…
and though I would die before
i hurt one i love
i am torn by the need for my own peace
and resolving who i am….
what is the point of loving when
the pain caused by my very being
resonates so strongly around me?
this mind of mine won’t stop spinning…
wondering…
hoping…
thinking that maybe all this
noise will eventually turn into
music or sound…
something that makes sense to me-
for all this- i’ve already heard,
but cannot grasp yet..
and the white light that
won’t let me sleep or dream-
would that it be removed from me
so that i can see this picture
that lingers on the outskirts
of my mind
when will the bells stop ringing?
when will the train pull into the station
and rest for a time?
oh i’m dreadful and tired
and i need your arms to hold mine
so i can sleep again
would you mind closing your eyes
for a moment so i might
come in real closely to smell
the soft scent
of soap that lines your neck?
perhaps if you hold real still
you might feel my tongue
upon your skin as i taste
the sweat that’s forming
just below your chin
and oh, to feel your chest, rising
and falling like a balloon
hot and certain…
and would I fly away upon your lap
in a whirlwind of time
and desire
the SIBYL'S SONG 