Into Flight

It’s silent now,

and I know how quiet I’ve been…

reflecting… feeling like I’m,

Wrapped in a blanket of judgment.

I’d tell you a story, but starting here is closer to the ending.

It’s been gory since the beginning. I’ve spared the gritty details and

If I could glean a clean insight to whats keeping the tension tight,

in the air tonight; I just might – take you back to

when it didn’t matter about winning or losing;

To a time when my head wasn’t spun – When fun was simple fun,

before everything stating binding and ever since,

have been unwinding!

But I’m afraid through all your unwinding; the pieces of you

the birds are finding; Once chewed through, are not worth shit for glue –

You’re not a chicken,

Yet the feathers of the flock might stick to you may reveal what’s true;

You’ were meant to fly;

Mans greatest hour comes

when he rises above the external and internal clamor,

faces all the demanding faces, and his own;

and silences all the voices..

Counts the cost and knows there’s only 2 choices -.

Instead of just giving in, stands tall and in the face of adversity.

And when things get grim, remains calm through the storm within

I could tuck my tail and turn, crash and burn, but I’ve learned,

I’m prepared to make every wrong – right!

When I’ve finally cleared the run way I’ll take off! – into flight!

Satisfied to know that all my on-lookers,

never before… held such a sight.

 

 

 

 

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To Eternity – or bust!

kick me in the face!

wake me up

shake me hard

tell me I am alive!

Look around a bleak world

realized I have survived!

 

Only to entertain lies

of those who’ve lied

about love.

Shove them from a roof,

let the truth

splatter on  the cement,

I cannot lament

this absurdness.

 

Do we go on and dance again.

Do we play the song over?

I think, my dear,

our  time for dancing has come to a close.

I think we know where this goes.

Ill be in the hood,

here’s a rope… head for the gallows.

Deadmonton

Soul unseen, spirit unknown,

blown in by the wind,

down the North Saskatchewan,

welcome to Edmonton,

It’s been one long dark season,

people living and dying with no reason.

 

Why is this the way it is?

Will I ever know happiness?

Will this be the way it ends?

Needle in my arm, no real love,

no real friends…

 

Oh God… Can I be reborn again?

Oh God… Can I be reborn again?

Oh God… Can I be reborn again?

 

Please tell me this is not the way it ends.

lift my heavy cloak, take away my burden,

Show me beauty as well as peace; the garden of Eden!

Give me courage and strength to slay my demons!

 

Show me a life full of meaning.and reason….

Wash me in the rains of a brand new season….

 

Humble Mumblings

And if even “The Greats” were just mere regular,

idiosyncratic – day to day observers of society;

Loud muses that mused nonsense – out of boredom,

stress relief, simple idiotic entertainment –

What of me then? My so called art – ponderings

of a directionless point becoming less with each …

*Sigh* … It’s insane enough I talk out loud to myself,

God help me when I actually take time to write down

the humble mumblings of my inner muse.

I’m easily amused, taking advantage of space and time,

making rhymes – poetry is as poetry does, line for line.

Poetry is like life – random and chaotic,

occasionally coming together beautifully in wondrous ways.

Poetry is life.

The best lines obtained through years of disillusionment and pain.

The never ending struggle to fight; Finnish the race!

The journey, discovery and utilization of what it  means to not just live – but to actually feel connected to your being;

That is living.

… That is poetry…

Die-sect

At the center of the equation,

the ultimate variable that changes;

The “in between” that will always be “in between”?

 

If I used numbers for letters to solve problems,

would I still be a genius in my own mind?

Or would I still be a mad man, lost in his own ‘verse,

staged before the common junkie, to be ridiculed?

 

I’m no mathematician: An artist of the language,

maybe once or twice – then the parasites started talking

by squirming violently; They will never tell you personally,

but they are not happy.

 

I really don’t know  how they got in my head,

They must of entered in my ear,

cause with out uttering a word, I hear… everything I dread,

 

Oh the time is coming,

Everything is building up,

the gears are winding and winding!

Something is going to… snap…

 

I’m still at an impasse; X trying to balance wh-Y-at.

If you need an angels dead hand,

reach for my finger tips – they’re in the jar next to my jaw.