Love

(archives)

Beached Dream

Erroneous thoughts flap and billow free
Tied fast to a thousand linear threads
From below they echo grey clouds above
Suspended over vacant sandy ground

Beached Dream recklessly listing to one side
Awaiting an encounter to break free
Strains and stresses audibly creak and groan
Beached Dream’s slowly deteriorating

Even the clearest and fine day there’s mist
The horizon blurred by waiting vapour
Always ready to roll in then engulf
When you’re on your knees and can walk no farther

The sandy grains clump between ugly toes
And sit heavily on top of tired feet
Eternal beach head and the sea afore
Constitutes this wanderers Calvary

Only the thoughts that flap and billow free
Offer up a clear opportunity
Take hold of those wayward strands and threads
Set sail on the unknown trajectory

This Great Love

This great love.
Now dusty and archived.
Once lively with the joy of the future possibilities,
Hangs like a brake beneath me.

I wander as in a perpetuum of my dreams,
Unable to break this cycle of loneliness,
Unable to establish meaning for my life,
I’ seeing this existence as though I’m no longer a participant.

He longs to feel the warm sun of another’s passion raising him,
To reciprocate. He’s known this previously,
He’s felt the wholeness that comes with knowing someone else is there,
He’s given as much back.
When did he loose that?
Does that feeling not emanate towards him still?
When did he stop reciprocating?

I wander in a perpetuum of my dreams,
Looking to my thoughts for solace,
Looking to my thoughts for a sign,
I need to make a move and make a change.

That great love.
Where did I put you?
And where is the next volume?
The one that talks of freedom, passions, feeling.

The Doubter

To be the fastest; the smartest; the bravest; the greatest,
This all seems very appealing to me.

To be the nihilist; the self-deprecator; the self-implicator; the self-denier;
I tell myself: This makes no sense to me.
But in the recesses of my mind,
Where I know what it means to be me,
In that dark and misty void,
I scream freedom of misery, of contemplation, of belief.
And I see this in me.

My conscious mind plays tricks on me,
Through tired eyes and erratic thoughts,
A vision hidden in the mists.
A vessel presenting my soul to the heavens,
Is sucked under the deadening ichors that flow beneath.

So all is lost to me,
All that could be.

Taken down, once again, emptiness evermore.

Stride forward, pointlessly, onwardly, in vein,
And when I die who will remember my name?

So live this life day to day.

Hollow man centre stage,
Love me……
Please.

No Words

It was brief, that’s for sure,
But filled with connection and allure.
The void seemed bridged by tacit understanding.
Eyes wide, no words – but communicating.

An unintentional moment,
With irrational clarity,
Harboured dreams,
That floated amongst our disparity.

My new tragedy,
And I saw it so clear,
When you grimaced with resentment,
As they approached, you welled a tear.
And so to my detriment; all time was lost there.
Stolen and squandered,
Wanted to scream “Is this fair?”

Then came my pain,
The very next day,
It was just before you wandered away.
I’d rehearsed in my head,
But t’was all in vein.
Silence and tactility,
Our parting moment’s name.