She Calls Me The Sea

She calls me
The sea
Receding from shore
The push
The pull
New moon, treacle sky
Brilliant points of light
Familiar shapes
Each with a name
A story to tell
This cool embrace
Warming you
In time, undertow
This deep union
The push
The pull
She calls me
The sea
Rushing back in
Cresting high
And white
Exploding
Into the sea wall
This last lament
Between you and I
Drags me under
One more time
Dive down in
And meet me there

Objects In Mirror…

I’ve been driving down
These long desert roads
Through moonless nights
To cool my foolish pride
Such a barren landscape
Rocky, cold, unforgiving
I know I’ve been here before
When the sun was shining
And burning in my heart
Night always comes too soon
Smothering the flames
And I keep on driving down
These long desert roads
I need a roadside attraction
Another five dollar distraction
To keep you in my rear view
You’ll always look closer
Than you appear

Occupy

she said I’m in need of a distraction
something to fill up my mind
something to occupy my time

they come at me when I least expect it
with teeth like the night
and long slithering tongues
cold and unforgiving like the wind
wrapping itself around me
and pulling me in, in, in

the sheen of hungry golden eyes
slatted and slanted morning sunlight
through the hollows of the beast
he’s not feeding on me
but rather the fear I carry
the host within the host

I’ve gotten myself lost again
wandering down dark halls that twist
shapes form and fade in the shadows
my hairs standing at attention
the cold steel sword of fear
tracing along the back of my neck

she said I’m in need of a distraction
something to occupy my mind
but I’m about to lose my head again

The Insistence of Loss

the pale yellow sunlight
flickers through the fog
while my feet carry me
on and on and on
the distance covered
and so much more to go
not sure if I’m counting
in meters, miles or years
still, it persists as we age
more inevitable, unavoidable
finally, inescapable it becomes
we’re always aware
but never prepared
and it can strike us down
when we’re feeling our strongest
battles, trials and tribulations
some of us experience it young
those of us that may never recover
but always it gives us pause
as pale yellow sunlight
flickers through thinning fog
and my feet carry me
on and on and on

The Patient

The Doctor is in
I’ve been feeling light-headed
I’m the balloon floating sky-high
Far, far below a small speck cries
His tiny hands just couldn’t grasp
They’ll console and he’ll forget

Now, I’m wayward
Going anywhere the wind blows
Afraid I’ll be caught along the way
Among the trees their spears bared
One jab from the sharp sentinels
I’d be done for and he’ll forget

The Doctor just listens
I feel them writhing all over me
Thousands of legs, hard carapace
And those cold, penetrating eyes
Piece by tiny piece, I’m disassembled
Assimilated and he’ll forget

Part of the hive
Rich combs of nectar and honey
An ever-present buzz is our tune
A drone for a drone it fits the name
All hail to her Royal Highness
The Queen that he’ll forget

The Doctor is in
I’ve been slipping away for days
Grains of sand in a sinking hourglass
Hoping someone from somewhere
Will grant a hand and turn me over
Last grain slips and he’ll forget

Rain In The City

Lonely souls and lost spirits
Their demure faces stare longingly
At reflections in closed shop windows
And the austere sky pours down
Over tangled intersections
Made of concrete and steel

Two languishing lovers
He cradles his head in his hands
While rain drops ripple and splash
Into their tea cups, as tears
Escape the corners of his eyes
“Not like this,” he laments

Dead leaves and cigarette ends
Litter the sidewalk and gutters
She drops another and stamps it out
Blowing smoke between pursed lips
As she unfurls her umbrella
And trudges through a puddle

Lonely souls and lost spirits
Their demure faces stare longingly
Looking for something they’ve lost
These feelings won’t follow them forever
There’s solace knowing that the sun
Still shines behind storm clouds

Voicemail

Hi,
It’s Justin.
I was just calling to let you know
that the night sky is brilliant,
and I wish you were here.
I’m standing in the sand on the seaside,
it’s a little cold, but I’m wearing
that jacket you said you always liked.
I’ve got my neck craned skyward,
and I spotted a shooting star,
I wished you were here.
Summer’s fading, the leaves will fall
but before they do, oh
such beautiful colors you know.
Remember the autumn foliage
and those endless drives
traipsing through the mountains
singing along to Pink Floyd’s
I Wish You Were Here.
So give me a call sometime,
I’d love to hear from you.
Take care,
and goodbye.

The Bragger

A bragger goes on and on
A crafty sort
A bit of a spider
Weaves his web
Of silky tall tales
Perfecting his craft
Of one-upsmanship

You’re never quite sure
If this is real or fantasy
Fact or fiction
The librarian
Can’t direct you either
Is this a biography
Or a parody
Perhaps maybe
The greatest story ever told

The most mundane story
Becomes spectacular
Exciting and life-altering
Life-affirming?
Ego boosting?
So nonchalant about it
Casually smoking a Camel
And waiting for the next word

The bragger never listens
Waits for you to stop speaking
A slight pause
And he pounces
Agile, a shadowy panther
Stalking in the night
He’s been here
He’s been there
Has he been anywhere?

He regales us with an epic yarn
Of lovers and rock shows
Addictions so untrue
You laugh and smile
Nod your head
And feel a little sad
He must be so lonely
And desperately disparate
Addled with self-loathing
Unable to claw out
The bragger’s trapped behind the walls
Erected by all his self-doubt

Rough Draft / Early Stages: Artaxiad

Well, I’ve secretly always wanted to write an epic of some sort. Like Beowulf or the Iliad, something so grand and fantastic, that’s it’s most surely out of the scope of my own talent. Regardless, if it’s worth aspiring to, it’s worth giving the old college try. So here’s a small look at something I started working on tonight, that could have potential, I don’t know. It’s unedited, probably a bit sloppy and needs to be tightened.

I’d like to get some feedback / criticism, any thoughts any of you that read this have. There’s little to the story right now, but I’d love to hear what anyone thinks.

With that being said, here’s an introduction to Artaxiad.

*****

Working diligently from the tallest tower
With sight over courtyard and kingdom
The clever old wizard plies his trade
Creating bubbling concoctions, tinctures,
Elixirs, potions and magical mixtures
An alchemist’s dream at his fingertips.
His snow-white hair thinning with age
Still falls over his shoulders and back.
A wispy beard of great length is yellowed
At the mouth from smoking garnal weed
Out of his favorite ornate wooden pipe.
Wearing simple black robes and pointed hat
He weaves his way through his laboratory
With fantastic ease, floating through the air.
Smiling and nodding his head at one vial
all while frowning and sighing at the next.
Artaxiad was the name he had gone by
For as many generations as the kingdom
Could remember and many, many more.
He had served dutifully under every king
Though recorded history would disagree
As old stories passed down through the ages
Would tell of an Artaxiad driven by madness,
plotting his deception against many kings.
Though stories were just that and never
Did any wise man know to raise any story
Above the sound of a whisper that would
Get lost in the cool harvest breeze
Lost to prying ears at the top of the tower.
He was both feared and revered by subjects
All were wary of his unholy magical prowess
Though few had ever seen it used before.