A Dirge For Harpies

I have survived
Too long, too much
Indeed, withstood
To fall now
Down, farther into greater shadows

The light will not drift
I will not allow that
I have allowed too much
Already

Piranhas orbit
Rude carrion
Crawl across the spine
However bent, however broken
Taking little pieces of me
Viciously, delightedly
Careless

No longer

I will not bear their weight
But rise
Anew, fresh in the morning
Their snares, fog
Their hooks, mist
Burnt off under
The touch of the sun

The tunnel has lengthened
But not grown too long
Not yet
To swallow any hope
Of reaching the end

So long
You feeble
Fickle
Febrile
Flock of witless vulturous
Harpies
You amalgam of offal
Disgorged from a creature as
Deceitful, as pathetic and simple

I am broken clay but
There is more to the stone
Than there is to you

I Will

I will run until there is no more earth beneath.

I will run until the lightning strikes.

I will run until the stars enfold.

I will run.

~~~

I will run until I dance upon the waves.

I will run until the clouds throw down their ladders.

I will run until the sun lances through the dark.

I will run.

~~~

I will run until I find every horizon.

I will run until the spirits are revealed.

I will run until all else peels back from the heavens.

I will run.

~~~

I will.

I promise.

I will.

I promise I will run until I can’t anymore.

The Slag Pits of the Soul

It is like a furnace, fiercely burning

And I have only so much coal

You see

There’s only so much

And I’m only so small

~

I will sometimes find an accelerant

A new beautiful

A random intoxication of the sudden

Surprises have the most BTUs

Next in line are the toxic loops

The feedbacks of flagellant

Hatred creation resurrection

Being born and strangling the self

Oozing back out from your own

Blood

~

Do signs rise over black seas?

Neon lights, the eyes

Of xenon gods

I long to stand on hilltops

Screaming into the rain

Slamming down over an ocean

My arms raised in a fury

A great and triumphant

Arc

Of history, of pain

One willing tide

Of fulfillment

Of fulfilling

~

My eyes can see the sea

My eyes can see the stars

A bridge of promise

The stairs to the new

The sustained

Footfalls of forever

God was a man,

And he had a son.

Update 02: Newer, Broader Horizons…

…without having moved that far. I took a few steps and looked in the other direction. That is to say, I’ve made some changes.

I recently moved for the third time in two years and not because I’m insane, I assure you. If you remember in my last update, the last place wasn’t exactly the best living situation. I got priced out of the one before that by an unfortunate and untimely split with a girlfriend. But now I’m here, and glad to be here. I like this place. Pictures may be forthcoming.  I’ve still got to get settled in, though, so expect a slight lull in posting while I get set up over here.

The second announcement, which is marginally more exciting than the first, is that I now have my very own Patreon! I’ll be putting the link elsewhere on the site, so it’s not lost in the archives, but feel free to head on over and give me enough cold, hard cash to buy a latte or something maybe. I’ll be moving most of my fiction and poetry posts over to that platform. Entry only costs a buck, and you can stay forever. It’s the ultimate club. The party never ends and, hopefully soon, it will be attended by a plenty of the best and brightest lifeforms: you guys, my fans.

I’m moving fast, if I’m not covering much ground, and I have this place to thank for that. Other things, other people, too, of course, but every follower and visitor and view on here helps salve some of that discontent I think every writer feels who practices his art in a vacuum. Where I’m from, there’s not a lot of us. Sometimes it’s hard to remind myself that I’m not on an island or part of a dying breed. Thanks for being that reminder, when I can’t play the part myself.

Records in the Dark over Market and Park

My Anarchist Pollyanna

My girl too far, too near

For whom I

And she

Was born too little

And too late

Like ships passing

Not in the night, but

Along shoals of years

Across shoulders of giants

Searching for rainbows

Bridging the gulf

And everything in between

 

Random futures are spake

In the grooves of old records

Turning in the dark

Over Market and Park

Blaring

Amid our

Now’s and then’s

Our to be’s and

Not to be’s

These are the questions

I’d put everything up

To answering,

 

But,

 

The answer is in the question.

The being able to ask

That’s what love is, and

All that it is.