Every letter bold
blood deep vanity of want.
All heal my hungry ache within
beyond glass and wire.
Every inch of my being craves
for you to read on.

Don’t stop.

Here I lie in patient’s well.
Twixt the weal of the hammer,
and the woe of the nail.
Wary of rust stained leaf
and dusk cold ground,
between my restless slumber,
and this shadow’s tail.
The rush of life slowed,
brings forth an other companion,
timeworn through dark eyes,
all dormant torpor stilled.
It is true - he does not come alone.

I see you wrenched by the grip of the current,
prised from your leap by a false aperture,
no more enough to hope, yet just enough to strive.
How can I tell you about the whole of this?
Of joyous return to the source,
and time’s circle - of journey resolved?

I fear for you wretched in the moment,
gaze fixed unerring against the spite of the water,
constantly onward and pummelled by backward flow,
How can you guess at the end of this?
Of still blue pools and nature calmed,
and yearning end?

I’ll promise you something.
Your broken skin, rock-scratched and scarred,
badge and bruise of mortal toil worn,
in end, a fated hurt embraced.
Let it flow, let it all wash away.

Do you sense the rising?
The mercury of your soul,
pulled by creation’s arm?
There, within you - spirit kindled,
centre warmed.

In the hothouse,
of your precious frame,
lies a moment, slow kiln-dried,
waiting to be overwhelmed.

Delighted by the candescence,
of this - your imagination,
the grinning usher of pending heat,
is watching you ignite.

We follow the orbit of a lost star,
you and I, sharing telemetry - irresistably drawn.
No mere convenience or random circumstance,
you are north to south in the spin of my life.
We are guided by quantum ghosts,
whispering across the noise of the cosmos,
and we float apon it with radiant glow,
blown gently through our lives determined.

Long live this dependence,
this vital alignment - this happenstance.
May this remain beautiful and rare,
- our wondrous mystery.

One day,
the wind brushed
the back of my neck,
and I thought
about you.

A sudden scent,
pleasant - making me remember.
A happiness song, moving
through lips sculpted
from saccharine kisses.

Song moving air, moving me,
a breeze sent to touch me,
that I swallowed and gulped,
in case I forgot that,
I love you.

Hell, we can drag this out.
today’s pleasure.
You play and I watch,
self effacement good,
found in the restraint.
To have and see the changes within,
just start doing out of the blue.
:)

(a semi-random sample of lines from SU forums)

Tired in the bones of life,
every breath a sigh released,
the traveller journeys on,
no step, a stride decreased.

Mired in the wet sand,
footfall etched in memory,
only recollection’s path,
marks his lost trajectory.

Waymarks of a shadowed fate,
conspired against an open route,
a weary compass held, required,
to heed his map of doubt.

But though navigation end adjourned,
and passage studied slow,
this noble traveller, remains content
to tread the earth below.

I am iambic jazz sax played
no hidden skill unsold
I wield a shining
word-axe blade
to cut my word tax paid.
The notes I play are multitude
performed with athlete’s guile
triplets wrote with attitude
all inches to my mile.
Yet still I need you to approve
this struggle with the word
and though you state my prowess proved
there remains a part of me unstirred.
I pine for you to play along
I think you know a better song.

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Like a jewel of sunshine on the arc of a ripple,
and the elderly moves of a lonely cloud,
or droplets freed from fountains blown.
Beyond the confines of an ornamental source,
a downhill breeze carrying snatched birdsong,
on silent air, gossamer light above.
In this sacred space - this place of quiet,
I worship the moment where patience happens,
and wait for us to breathe as one.

O’ angry insects.
I hear the crunching of wood
as your battle destroys my house.
You have descended on me through dark skies,
shared with enemies blood-feuded,
intent on the ways of the hive.
Why do you battle so?
Your blueprint is of no difference,
scratched out by a wretched swarm,
no variegation in design.
Struggling adversaries of the wing,
fury is not our syllabus,
and your ignorance in myriad,
is not mine.

Tonight we will forget ourselves, electrified with Reiki flow.
Skin to skin - softer than goldust on an Egypt breeze,
moving without bones through the sparkling night.
Forever overlaid and snatching passioned air,
we shall be unstopable as seaward lava.
Unbound and eternally magnetized.
Both suspended as satin blown,
on unity wind - one thought;
“two minds untethered,
… together.”

Pity your eyes.
They have seen too much, but not enough.
Cross eyed stare - lost gazed across the row,
seeing detail in the detail but not the canvas.

Damn your hands.
They have felt, but do they touch?
Rough as sinew thread - hardened by ages sun,
cotton reeled and fretted like driftwood.

Curse the silence.
You do not hear, what could be said.
Murmer lost in shout - plaintive soft,
in the darkness of the quiet.

I praise your heart.
A coda strong and truthful,
still not adrift - nor blooded witness sea,
to life overflowed.

Your heart still lives, and can be heard.

We are,
more than one,
but each is split,
atomic like.

From me to you,
a cosmic knit,
apart alike.

Oh quantum glued,
your god permits,
lightning strikes.

Not one, but two.
Let us touch the sides
of this world,
reborn.

Young pirates don’t watch T.V.
They loop from beam and sail,
rocking their boat,
bountifully nefarious,
laughing mad.

You is more than a game, boy!
Leave that Sorry Plaything®,
and swing.

Forget these cathode scenes,
and get some sunshine in.
Go forth, discover islands new,
hoist your pride up high.
See your cutglass smile.

(For Squirt, an old Trucker.)

Man! It’s a heavy load to haul,
that worry under tow,
with all your gearing slow,
you are speeding to crawl.

A challenge that you know,
is troublesome to call,
engine burred against a wall,
destination, zero.

You, who dare not stall,
now a motor without growl,
no traction sense below,
A lever without fall.

End this static highway show!
Seek clear directions all.
For now, take joy in measures small,
and tire stains on the road.

It blinks, it waits - it taunts.
The box that must be filled.
White chalk bared on a hill of thought,
words waiting, to be milled.

It thinks, debates and then, it haunts.
An intersection for the skilled.
Against the clock, no shortcut taught,
nor booklet for the build.

It links, it states - it always wants.
A battle for my will.
This puzzle for the soul unsought,
left open, never stilled.

Battering against the glass,
like newsprint blown,
across a barricade.
Bruised and endless vexed,
wings denied their want.
As landscape for the eye,
this struggle for seen and known,
is noble like a sand cliff,
yet futile as fragile shore.
One thousand heartbeats lost,
pulsing a plaintive lighthouse call,
to whitewater beyond.

Out with the loud crowd, pilot-free in the night.
Looking for zero - finding nothing.
Worlds put to right, momentarily stilled.
All drunken at the joyful bluring of the stars.

You are sharp as a stylus,
wow and flutter free,
following a scratchless track.
Analogue warm, mindful of old,
adoration snatched from the air.
Delight, engineered.

If you want to stretch a string from the moon,
to my tin can heart and beyond,
I will be listening.

Dancing in parallel,
me and the snowglobe girl.
Tilting my axis,
beautifully unsettled,
everytime.

She is magnified,
glass clean and artic pure,
An enchantment.

All I am and all I can be,
balanced like a leaf,
on a fairground rail,
change and motion stirred.
Just watching the flow.

Maybe it’s my filters,
codebase unknown.
Pattern undefined,
orbit squared,
lens misaligned.
These mouldings squeezed,
are elder signals lost.
Tune me in.

It’s a struggle staying painterly,
when a photograph might do.
Using paint straight out of the tube,
and not observing hue.
It’s hard to spot the brushstrokes,
in a captured point in time,
but harder still to contemplate,
which is most sublime.

These words are made of rock, crudely fashioned.
Tools to sculpt a larger stone,
such thoughts are chalkdust on the wind,
far and rudely blown.

You and me, we’re floating off tribulation flow.
Beyond the worried ocean - way past the undertow.
Surfing through the breakers wading, deep and slow,
you are ship and I am shore,
tidal pulled below.

Paint the corners first,
Rubik mix, then shake the box.
You’re the one they’ll never solve,
Straight piece missing, broken edged.
Attractively packaged,
but no right way up,
not up nor down.
Self-build enigma.