Archive for March, 2011

one with the dust

one with the dust

one must

remain

remains

litter

the streets glitter

with pieces come

undone

from lives

smiles

miles away

the day

pain

came as rain

washed away dreams

in screams

shards of what was

alas

play

forever and a day

time will not heal

peals

scratching at its door

petals dead on the floor

against time and death

we cannot bet

yet a butterfly’s wings

can sing

a crack into the universe

disperse

hope

scope

of living

giving

there is a bruised doll

that made its fall

from little hands

lands

in a pool or water

that is her blood and tears

their eyes glazed

dead

their faces

traces

of dirt

and mirth

there goes a man

who can stand

on three feet

weary and beat

three limbs clank through empty street

no music here only discordances meet

the only song, “why am i a witness

to hell twice”

an old lady is borne

by the one born

of her

to find a shelter

“thank you,” she manages

before she collapses

in a heap

of a thousand and a hundred

as a rice ball

on her wrinkled hand falls

a mother

with a picture

of her daughter

hopes to meet her

hopes lost

memories will cost

here they come

as one

brushing off the grime

of time

while others while

away helping hands in denial

why cant you see

what pains me

is it not true

if it doesn’t hurt you?

memories of an echo

you did not fear death

nor dying

your ossified dreams

in my marrowless memories

lay biding

time

has no face

 

the dunes have weathered

revealing the bones

less of marrow

they sing of my morrow

when i too will be done

into hollowed memories of an echo

 

there is one less mirror now

refracting now then and more

 

then…

waves laughed in your songs

spoke of worlds where you belonged

on the shore awaiting

barren silhouettes

cried out their gray souls

so they might meet the wind

that was your breath

and color their lives

 

now…

now wails of then

when it was now

now takes a second

and stretches it to infinity

there is no snap

death

time has no time to waste

 

more…

 

there is more to life than death

there is death in life

there is more in less

revelations in a crumple dress

the skeins that warp wrap

my failing skin

sometimes give in

into thin

shards of now then and  more

filtering memories

into  an echo

reverberating within my heart walls

the beat that was yours

 

the beat

that was life



Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.