Empty

Mocking Bird Down

Forget me knot, the tangled
mess that interrupts.

The silence that pushes back.
The wordless forgiveness in the slack.
The humanity in the tunnel vision.
The peace in the
quietness
in the monotony of
level headed dispassion.

I forgot how to love, today.
Was more of triggered mental delay;
a test in compassion.
On how to ration.
Or, how to fashion –
my own standing ovation.

I lost the thread, at the foot of my bed
while you told me stories of
the origins of your brand of Whiskey.
You burned lips on the cold
that I sold, to you;
out of pure habit.

Come back tomorrow, young man.
I may remember how it’s
supposed to unfold, by then.

Maybe.

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When Man Has Gone

ChainsawPenguin

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What now do crumbling walls see, should they have eyes,
What does nature abhor now there’s none left to despise?
Mother, as if in shame, desperately tries
To hide echos past with her climbing vines.
From creatures on the sea  floor wandering the silt,
To beasts resting in the towers that forgotten hands built.
What once was there, what once was man,
Has long since ceased to live in this ancient land,
In his delusions, for such an absence made no plans.
Being deceived, as such delusions of immortality can.
On through blackened oceans of infinite void roll,
This Earth, slowly ’round the Sun takes its last stroll.
Weary and spent; to the angered Sun, unable to pay toll,
She falls burning forever, into the fatally expanding Sol.
None but nature and her children; the only ones to see,
The father of the sky, in the blink of an eye…

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The Cloudy Obscurity

ChainsawPenguin

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Oh cloudy day,
What can I say?
When will the winds and storms give way?
To make things brighter for another day
Or anothers’ way?
Oh cloudy day,
Come what may.
Oh cloudy day this I plea:
If darkness should overtake me,
If all around, only fog to see,
If the path be
Lost in obscurity,
Give me some small bit of light.
That I may take to flight,
That I may before night.
Oh cloudy day, restore my sight.
Remove my burden and my blight.
Cease your siege and end your fight.

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There is a Whisper

ChainsawPenguin

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There is a whisper before the dawn
That she has known of all along.
In the silence beside this song,
Is a subtle, prodding, call.
Can she forget it all?
Does she possess desire to recall?
Among the questions, her wandering eye.
She doesn’t really want to die.
Looking for hope in the brightening sky,
Hope being her faiths reward.
A ship to the future she’s aboard.
Shadows in her mind no longer can afford
The lease upon her soul.
Her heart, no longer cold,
On a brighter day she’ll grow old.

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Children of the Pride

ChainsawPenguin

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In the silence we are one.
Let us go and have some fun.
In her sleeping, mother purring.
Our quiet keeps her from stirring.
In the shadows we are home,
A little place to call our own.
Mothers eyes are open watching,
To the hunt, us, she is calling.
She will show us many things,
Like what the silent night-time brings.
All of this and more we’ll learn:
Where to go straight and where to turn.
She tells us that when we’re older
We, not she, will be the shoulder
For the younger ones to borrow
Who will walk this earth tomorrow.

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This of That Dark Hill (In the Echo of Yesterday)

ChainsawPenguin

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The light of this new day,
To the horizon shown the way.
Wanting to stay in the shadow
Of yesterday’s final echo.
But moving forward to the bright,
And shining promise, I just might.
Such comfort held by darkness; darkness it is still,
Enervated, grasping for a hold on this dark hill.
No hope for the peak have I.
I’ve seen it and don’t want it. Why try?
Now left in the echo of yesterday,
This of that dark hill is all I’ll say.

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