like the sun shone

for you

Category: Audio

Artificial Atmosphere of Civilization

~

Listen to, breathe in and taste the pungent
where once music sang amongst the trees
where once the air invigorated
where once eating was real
and where each was once one’s own mind
but now
in this time of greed, futile deaths, global one-upmanships & scaremongerings
and the religious balloonings of creation
we are surrounded
by an artificial atmosphere of civilization
where trees are shrouded in tentacles of grease and darkness; their songs all but forgotten
where our lungs are attacked on a daily basis; antibodies scream in disgust
where chemical wrapped food tastes of food wrapped chemicals; painful temptation encroaches
and where what we think, what we are and what we believe is no longer ours …

in this artificial atmosphere of civilization, where only the perfect make the shelf

; sorrow begets perfection begets sorrow

~

~

With thanks to Achilles Daunt for giving me the title
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Cloud breaks

~

Of rain and bows
and arrows and hearts
Of beats of memory
left behind
Of breath and almost
and something close
Of passion of eyes
behind sad smile
Of cloud and breaks
of silence and storm
Of beats of memory
all forlorn

this, December thing

~

As cobwebs grow while we sleep
so does this thing
this, December thing …

How it throttles, suffocates and destroys
how it becomes a pestilence within the silent beats of winter
this, December thing …

The emptiness of broken promises
echoes from the sorrows of children to the sorrows of
this, December thing …

How it settles within bones, upon skin and like a question of blood
how it envelops with its pretence of realism
this, December thing …

Each movement choreographed to make belief believable
while deep in the bowels of truth it festers
this, December thing …

How it seduces, enchants and dazzles
how its cosy fireside warmth births solicitous souls
this, December thing …

Like the chill of death’s cowl
it touches memories with sparks of things long gone, long lost
this, December thing …

How it breathes with such passion, beauty and an evanescence of time
how it reaches in to kiss with the sublime heaviness of falling feathers
this, December thing …

~

How I wish … but this … this December thing, cuts my soul to pieces …

A Winter’s Tale

~

How the moments meander
in eternal wonderlands of winter
where moonlight echoes the frost’s fragile crispness
with its silvern smile

and how these moments
create such silences …
such silences as when the robin
peeps out from the shadows
to see hands being held beneath alchemic smiles
of mystery and apprehension

How the moments meander
in the stillness of a windless cold morn
where skeletons reach to tickle the sky
with their frozen fingertips

and how these moments
create such solitudes …
such solitudes as when one remaining leaf
shivers in its ache to be free
to fall, to be taken by a breeze, to land
to die in her arms, to be loved once more

How the moments meander
within the poet’s eternal darkness
where shards of shadows fall to create an eternity of black ice
with their cold cold smiles

and how these moments
create such fragility …
such fragility as when he looks up
he sees time, nature and the beauty of life – frozen
and so he paints himself a winter’s tale
where passions burn and her soul melts the snows of his loneliness

Deep within

~

Candles bring with their dance of light
a certain kind of peace in the darkness
and there they create shadows
where the monsters live
and where the pitiful beat of change, aches to escape

The sorcery begins deep within
as the wax slows the ticking screams of time
and there
shadows awaken his soul’s dark remnants, of before

These malevolent madnessess of poetic strangulations
bring a curse upon him
and so he succumbs to the shadows of doubt
and the nakedness of fear

This peace in the darkness
this certain kind of, hope
drips to create patterns on the cold dark of his mind
where the monsters live
and where these creatures are screaming, deep within

and so dear friends
the wind is blowing beyond the window
bringing with it, remnants of tomorrow
where time is catching up with his pen
and where the mirror, reflects the candle flame’s

end

Time’s lonely ghost

~

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth long and bold
it never ages, it never dies
it is, forever old

The sun may burn
the wind may howl
the rain may drench its skin
but the shadow remains always
a yawning hungry cowl

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth like a thief
it never ages, it never dies
it is, the one beneath

The snow may settle
the mist may drown
the night may cover its skin
but the shadow remains always
wearing its darkling crown

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth like a snake
it never ages, it never dies
it is, awaiting fate

The hail may pound
the storm may moan
the grass may tickle its skin
but the shadow remains always
a sunset on the roam

Silent is the shadow
which creepeth cold and lost
it never ages, it never dies
it is, time’s lonely ghost

White

~

White
the mist rolls
‘pon the leaves of time

White
it curls
‘pon the memory of thine
; reflecting eyes

White
the mist rolls
‘pon the leaves of time

White
it drifts
‘pon the embrace of thine
; spirit of life

White
the mist rolls
‘pon the leaves of time

White
it kisses
‘pon the softness of thine
; fragile grace

White
the mist rolls
‘pon the leaves of time

White
it breathes
‘pon the sunburst of thine
; innocent charm

White
the mist rolls
‘pon the leaves of time

White
it plays
‘pon this heart of mine
; thine magical tune of love beguiled

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