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I’d meet the eastern shore With western bones bundled And wailing for sleep I’d meet the eastern shore Tottering with ghosts With the vicious sores I have earned in full I’d meet the eastern shore And the glittering vigor Of spotlit streams I’ll meet the eastern shore In a passionate rush Unknowing Steadfast and young
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Lazy days Are meant for breathing For the savoring of empty space Where clarity prevails Wrangling a devilish mist To its death So the mind, may flourish And flutter in peace Hollow days So spacious and fair Won’t you thrive forevermore Ushering my limbs away From the maddening Skewers Below
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Madness You serrated dagger Always skewering and grinding My world to a pulp I’ll bower and I’ll weave Tottering in your drunken spell Until the earth has received The last morsel of me I’ll stew in your iron embrace Beaten to your desire And soured by fear In your murderous glare I’m the labor of…
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An impulse drags me away Time after time Through the thorn and muck Through a night’s demise
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Just barely By a quivering thread I linger in the sun My entire frame full and drowsing Gradually The afternoon inhales my strife And all the bustling labors of dawn I am soothed into silence As the spring anthem tolls Drawing me to a halt In its nurturing and motherly vise A slumber fast approaches…
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I cannot bear to speak softly As the whirlwinds dance And consume in mass I cannot stand to tread lightly As the hateful swarm Emblazed and swollen with fear I shall not bend and revere Engulfed by my trials In shambles and sullen I must never draw to a calm And flounder assured While time…
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It cracks with ease And the rest comes undone Into stray shards of red But still I course on It groans With the guilt-ridden ghosts Of old fellowships deferred And dissolved by time The mind churns in panic Through treachery’s bend And still I course on With the rhythms of man
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I have missed the ivory froth Who drew me in, faithfully Away from the heart of my perils I have missed her sweetened cull The slow quieting of sorrows As she raves Through the cracks of my skin Oh how I’ll live again In her faraway shroud So blissfully out of reach Never wanting for…
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The truth it lurks Through the bleached white halls On the prowl In the moments of warmth At the very heart Of feign affections exchanged Its scours, wicked and unseen And in due time Our tales will dissolve in its fury In a burst of imprisoned distress When the hour tolls We are destined to…
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Pass on You heavenly giants Ever-towering, in bloom At the ready for the world Pass on with pride From this drab wreck of old At rest in its squalor At home in its juvenile muck Pass on, pass on You daylit heroes Who wield the oars of our time
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