Thursday, December 31, 2009

i have an inkling
that the universe doesn't talk to anyone
barring the cruel illusion
in the form of abstract equations
claiming there is an order to the chaos
yet i still expect
a sign
a sliver of a whisper
when i sit in front of
an empty piece of paper
with a cup of tea or coffee (or hemlock?)

i hear only myself speaking

Monday, December 28, 2009

one more dream for the journey
before the road meets the pestilence of silence
and sadness sand-bags all the exits
before the songs of my youth
spend themselves into jingles
promising a good life for a cheap price

as the thick branches
of an impossibly old sycamore tree
feed the sheltering night sky
an old viking king's funeral pile
is showing the way
just like a boy dreamed it

one last dream
one last time

Friday, December 25, 2009

waiting something good to happen
deep in the winter
and i am awash with
badly construed moribund stories
swallowed
washed-down really
without much of a sense of urgency
lock stock and barrel

we are what we tell after all

in the shallow rivers
of all that was thrust onto us to remember
an abjuration of innocence
naivete really
is all i can afford

we might as well be
what we unscrupulously choose to believe

Sunday, December 20, 2009

it has been raining constantly
and somebody reminded me
with a platitude that
i have always been discontent

the stories i carry fell silent
my heart feels fucking cold
and my winter-sense begun
listening to old songs played
on the radio
windows all the way down
wind on my face
with prickling drops of rain

i terribly miss that child
that was once inside

Tuesday, December 17, 2009

i am playing with words but
all seeing eye of my cynical self
mocks my hopeless yet relentless
pursuit of distilling meaning
from seemingly random sequence words
i throw at the cold blank faces of
silent pieces of papers.