Lies

When it comes to where the truth lies,

it is in the mouth or the eyes?

Do you sense sound or sight of things

that can at once make your heart sing?

And do you sing with joy or fear

when the day is done, night is near?

I trust in vision’s tyranny

to keep from drowning in the sea

of susurrant desires mired deep

‘neath the crescendo where you sleep.

Night hides a multitude of sins,

but when hope dies, nobody wins.

Gypsy Moon

Before the day breaks
I will remove myself
from the shackles of slumber
walk out into the darkness
to a singular communion

I will breathe in zeroes
exhale in ones

My feet travel by the hundreds
when they are weary and distracting
I turn my gaze to the stars

The moon has returned
from her visit to the dark side

The gypsy sliver fails
to drown out the twinkling lights
surrounding
and I can still imagine
lightness to my form
as my blood absorbs oxygen

I almost float
to the heavens
searching for my own singular place
to shine

As I exhale
feeding the trees
that begin to shade me
from the oncoming promise
day’s fire and heat
my thoughts return
to more earthly treasures

the sounds of baby goats
rustling for ruffage
the rush of water
falling on a shallow pool
the impression a human makes
against the dark and encompassing air
merely by existing
within a set of defined parameters
ready to face once more
the onslaught of another promised day

Sounds of silence

I lie in the quiet
in search of peace.

There is none.

I feel my lost thoughts
take on physical manifestation
like ants
stealing unbidden on my arms.

I pinch them into a silent death
but they return
stealthy
hunting out the sweet meat in my bones
the sustenance to keep them alive
with purpose.

I walk without destination
seeking solace in movement.
I count my steps
feet falling in sequential inevitability. 

Still I am pestered
by concerns that defy articulation.
The prison of my isolation
is a blessing I sometimes wonder at
but still manage to crave
my drug of choice
that saves me the pain of abandonment the catch being
I can never abandon myself
my doubts and prejudices
my predilection for self abasement.

Ah the silence
that is ever full
of internal noise!

That Space Between

king, slaughter a feast for the gods to be cradled against the belly of the mountain with its peaks like a titanium crown stabbing the skies in ragged regal form choose now the form of your birth or sprawling worship to that space between earth and sun as all before you raised from the earth lowered from the heavens in the carcass of a tree silent in its observation of the folly of man that burning lust for immortality do you smell the ash smoldering within your veins?