Lefty

There is feeling defeated
and there is being so low
that even when you're given roses
all you see is thorns.

There is a smile that comes when you bounce back,
but see how it twists as you fall
again
and again.

There is vanity
that lies beside insecurity;
watch how they struggle for power when it awakes.

There is false esteem
how it moves
holds few surprises
its shape remains true
underneath its disguises.

There is a thrill in dreaming big;
the grandeur is delicious at first,

till you choke on it.

Even then
you'll be back for more.

Consolation

'(are) you okay?
....
The question sinks into the silence...

you let him hang
as you hold his gaze
your face is a  fortress

your heartbeats are equanimity

Still
he waits,
Still
no reply,
Still
you soften him effortlessly.

You breath easy
in the tainted space
where his guilt has turned him sickly.

Tongues
once sweet,
in heat, cut deep
how they stung with intimate accuracy.

Now he clings to the belief

you oblivious to the beef;

foul darts he prays you can't grasp

He sees innocence fade
smouldering words;
ash stains on a sacred slate.

Past cynicism's gate
at the door of too late

arrived a tiny kiss
sweet grace in disgrace

Patchwork dreaming: spoiled fruit

Behold,
a plump peach at its peak;
Taut, furred skin wrapped around thick flesh,
wrapped around a seed; inside a dream sleeps.

Caught up in the sublime,
how easy it is to forget,
prime is same time
closer to rot than ever.

When it cracks
awake,
the dream will emerge - no rush,
soft as a new mother’s touch,
advances
pushing
carving out its way,
possessed
by its purpose.

Such is nature
to turn small things greater;
as great must turn small
All heed the call.

Rising from the putrid,
finally, free of its housing
the dream consumes its broken surroundings
building while destroying, its spirit buoyant.
Meanwhile,
the peach
melts
defeated
at peace.

My collections of mistakes
incline to repeat.
Repetition fathers learning
Soon mine must be complete…

Let it crack!

Writing

Remember to embrace that ill fitting feeling
As you try to sit still and write

You wriggle
struggling to ring something concise and sensical
out of the cloth you have dipped in the meandering, jumbled stream

Keep at it
though you may eventually go away
only to return and find the words you never knew you had
now slide out in a lackadaisical fashion
eased by thin coats of ectoplasm

(a dream) Recurring

Before it took its various shapes
I felt its presence
along the way
it's had bones
and once in a blue moon
a little flesh has grown.

I begin to believe, each time,
but like the passing of a season,
it will rot and fade
till only something faint remains..

Just as I doubt it was ever there
bones grow anew

The skeleton has taken form once more.
Flesh may grow and who knows
maybe this time It will endure,
long enough for its wing to unfurl,
and take flight

Protect ya queen

Without pause for thought

(the audacity)
he throws his queen 'to the battle
with alacrity. 

Does he,

a) lack experience.

b) not respect you.

The answer is both - he will soon be regretful.

Tempting it may be, 
to weild your power supreme

She cannot be deployed

Like a mere side piece. 

Unleash her too quickly, 

without pawns for cover

you invite your foe to a chase

that surely ends in her capture.

She who haunts every pawns dream

ever posed to take one for the team. 

The safer approach,

advance the minions first

out harms way,

you may quench your thirst.

I tell you as uncle Ben told pete, 

deploy her power responsibly.

what means maslow to you