sacralige has envy. (aspect under stars)

i broke the silence
with a broad smile
not at all ashamed
because some things are alright.
no matter how you place their order
or fashion they came to disaster,
it doesn't matter.
some things are alright.
and right now?
they are getting even better.

reading a beginner's mind

and finding that it's far from that
that it's wisdom
encompassed far more
then it's title let on
because i've looked into that face
i've seen that honest smile
in those eyes
and i'll not be tricked
into believing that you
are anything less
then amazing.

my country, my thievery.

i came across your lands
wondering by what right
they belonged to anyone else.
i saw yr people's wasteland,
the places you are allowed to dwell in.
i can only express my remorse
that i cannot give it back to you.

remembering new mexico

and i'd like to someday,
sit on top of a mesa,
with all of you,
and listen to the wasteland
while the sun goes to sleep.

a disused fane

only mostly lonely
he sat and waited
to feel like a man again,
a lifting feeling
a brand new skin.
tired of just being a friend.
tired of swimming upstream
and finding the water too shallow,
his own heart,
too callow.

engineer'd the premise whilst sleeping
those vivid tremors
that find him leaving
a coward in his scoffing
a someone left for wanting
an abjudication of these things.

kept a surface of happy
throughout spines dissolving
crippled and walking
head held high and dreaming.

(stood on top of that mountain
watched creation beginning
thought he'd found his way
to compensate for everything.)

for daryk.

home in the chill discomfort
the empty main streets
and overcrowding police
warm company of friends
wipes out the cold
and hopes of seeing you soon
and sharing a tear
and an embrace
(perhaps a few beers)
makes all the bullshit in my life
vacate.

For Karel

Head, no legs.
Purplish blue. Almost white.
Almost mine.
You knew what it was
you and your mother
masculine and mine
masculine and mine.

Like a tadpole
tail where its legs should be
not even attempting to
swim through the mess it was in
before it was flushed
when your scared hand wanted so badly to save it;
to save him.

But where would you save something that dead
something so undesired and murdered
something so unbelievably white
when each time i imagine it
the colors are
brilliant red and crimson
and filled with somber forgiveness
and regret
and a hidden thought of maybe
given a half-decade's time
and another chance
all would be right
and ready
and willing

But life waits for nothing
not another chance
nor a half-decade
nor the right person
for the right person
so
here
is the place
where I say
I'm sorry.