Unrest

You leave things in strange places

whenever you visit.

A knife with the spoons,

socks in the fridge,

your voice in my heart.

We said our goodbyes,

you left me a mess,

and now is the time

to clean...

unless?

Cymraeg Comeback

 

We stayed in twos when the cloud caved in. It shouted over walls, crept in the shadows and down to the water where the hiding began.

We dined on the scraps of our past selves, poached them in their oils, seasoned them with the seas.

We ate our words and swallowed our pride until we ran out of space to store our dreams.

We left it all in the dark of night.

And the cloud is what was left.

My Horizon's Curve

Waves tap on the breakwater rocks,

this city, my life,
kept safe from the tide.

I know there lies a curve behind the horizon
that continues back to here.

It beckons me to peer over the edge,
to discover that other shore
and who i've become once i return.

I fear the tide.
The choppy discontinuities
from the plot I had written for my life.

Life is not a story, I suppose,
but a series of episodes
with plotholes a'plenty,
building a world that never quite gets finished.
New season airing Fall of 2018.

Waves

A sail is made to catch the air

and guide it toward our meaning's end.

We drift across the sea without

the ship we build to sail within.

In calmer waters, steady winds

we amble toward the beacon light

the stoics take their stock by day

and count their blessings through the night.

When storms kick up and waves arise

a simple choice will oft appear

to beat our chests and curse the sky

or patiently befriend the fear.

And if we bring the journey to

where water and the ether meet.

'tis better death to leave a mark

than wallow in our own defeat.

It matters not which crew to bring

which lands to claim, which hearts to win.

We drift across the sea without

the ship we build to sail within.

Renaissance for Remnants of a Lost Kingdom

The sounds of hammers echo here.
They're rebuilding what used to be,
A shrine to the ancients;
the ones who got it right.

In retrospect, they taught us a few things.

We learned division,
that we may divide ourselves by every measure
and still find another reason to separate.

And how there is no last wall at the end of all things
Yet still we aim for the next one
in hopes to one day arrive there.

In this, the quiet division of home,
The sunlight knows me only through a mutual friend.
We exchange glances like old friends with bitter grudges
but I still secretly want it to go back
to what we used to have

Cataclysmic Kaleidoscope

The starlights set their oars and mast

To find the future of their past.

And whizzing, whirling to and fro

They bend and buzz and say "hello!"

And through this chaos bit by bit

we piece together all of it.

These treasures in our outstretched eyes

are taken in, eternalized.

Immutable through time and space

These mem'ries all fall into place.

The times we stared up at the sky

it waved hello. We waved goodbye.

Binary Enigma

I see the elusive dead in you.

I see it when your left eyelid starts to jitter 

because you haven't slept a full night in weeks,

or when you lower your eyes and gaze at nothing in particular

"Yea...", you say. Just, "Yea".

When you stare out on the lawn in the afternoon, what do you see?

The wrinkles in their shirts, the stains on their jeans?

And when you look at me,

do you truly see me as the sum of all my parts?

And then, I wonder what you're hiding.

What lies in those unvisited corners in the cellar of your heart?

Is this shell of yours a wall to keep us out

or a cell to keep you in?