An Attempt at Healing

The ease with which fragments are born
Brings on an incredulous smile
Of a surprise fraught with anguish
For an unspoken truth to have the power
Of vanquishing all whispered comforts 
Treasured in warm hands thus far
Is a sight as terrible as it is beautiful.

A new lie is begotten
Formed of a strength alien to a former world
That lies, slowly dismembering,
Under the shroud of pride
Of kings
And mighty queens
All fire and fury

And a sadness
Too deep to heal.

Just a Thought

Day breaks
The blank page is writ
Clouds shade, not hide
Waves collect, drop and rise again
Ink flows unspilt
Blots are flowers
Or planets revolving around the sun
Empty minds are no longer blank
They're tabula rasa
Bruises play paintball
And head home light headed
Perhaps a little drunk
Even straight lines bend
And meet in circles
Even the moon is lost without the night
What then is a sigh amidst a flutter of hearts?
What then am I in a flurry of thoughts?

Playing with Shadows

The familiar lies forgotten
The unfamiliar forgiven
Months and years lay blurred and barren
A cluttered mind fumbles in sudden emptiness
And stubs a toe

The dim moons
Of previous rendezvous
Are replaced by flashing screens
That dim vision
And hurt the eye

Stray locks brush across cheeks
Weary fingers feel about for warmth
And cease mid hunt
Finding plastic instead
And a different heat

Memories lie warm and prickle
The smell of ink and envelopes
Hide smiles that never should have been
Bewitched minds crawling into pillow cases
Turning figures over in shadow play

The Artist

A light-headedness too light to be breached

A numbness too warm to be uncomfortable

A light too dim to usher in a desire to blink

A silence too deep to sight from the surface

A memory too stark to notice blurring edges

A night too close to consider a memory

A time relived too many times to deserve a remembrance

A thought too loud to need a voice to be heard

Subtlety is a fledgling of an art

Conceived to cover the most ingenious plots

An art performed by artists most ruthless

Skimming away on the dreams of the faint-hearted

Too frightened to finger the crevices of an after thought

Leaving the artist a freeway to another show, another mind

The brainchild of a devious mind

Yellow pepper in heartless ravines

Clinging to past glories

Assuring the comfort of childhood blankets

A familiarity too priceless to be bought

Eyes red with the fever of an unforgiving guilt

There remains a faint nostalgia

For the familiar, the forgotten,

The begetter, the begotten,

The forgiving and the forgiven.

Yours truly.