Thanks

For doing the reading thing.

If you’d like a more candid view of life there’s always Half Rust.

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25th July 2016

Fin

Wind-hurt and weary
He stumbled on through
A subdued storm
Knocked on door
Eyes half glazed

Lay down weary thoughts
In the comfort of home
Sleep knowing
That all of this
Has come to pass

And in the morning
The skies
Will have cleared

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24th July 2016

Heir Apparent

Lost somewhere
I am the wood amidst the trees
Hiding quietly
Making small noises
In perfect isolation

The rolling dice
Of imperfect philosophies
Cutting away at carved figures
A rushing light
Runs through the stars
Existing briefly

What did it matter?
What did any light mean
Against a darkness
We can’t hold
What rushing thoughts
Pale lines of blood
Did these clumsy hands draw
With blunted blades?
Would the strains lattice
Or did they
Tense; I’m unsure
At what time did this exist?
Regardless
Does each mark draw together
Is there a whole of this
Each fractured thought knitted
Patchwork
This is patchwork

Did the heart swell
Or did it expunge
The last efforts it held

In the final hours
I am no arbiter

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23rd July 2016

Ferrus

Oh hey there sugar man
Making sweet smell sounds
Pounding the rounds on streets of lead

What was the goal of all this again?
To salve an ego
Free a captive child
Or a captive audience
Build bridges over broken walls
Scale cliffs
Cling to ridges
Lest you fall

Sweat and toil
Foil any semblance
Of life in motion
Putting every ounce of effort
Into staying stationary
At speed

Three more of God’s days
Two more weeks and two again
I’ll be able to call myself things
I’ll carry weight of my own design

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22nd July 2016

Into the Sea

The birthing place of reason
Release me
Crawling embryonic
Away from the world
To be incorporeal
In absentia
At one and alone
Between waves
That don’t cause aches
But lead to a better peace

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21st July 2016

They

They
Fought his rise, they fashioned chains
Drew lines in sand and dared him cross
They etched a promise to repair
The ancient fear
Etched on their faces

They lay low
Formed a nest of spit and sand
From which they malevolently glared
Across the room
Like children
Scorned in disobedience

They grew, and as they did they read
Tales of Et Tu
Fancied themselves revolutionaries
Turning guns on their own ranks
Unaware that
They
Had not grown at all

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20th July 2016

Five

An ending’s not so liberating
When you’re caught up in other things
Other thoughts, other frames and hopes
No regard left to give
To that thing you’re losing
Once held so precious and dear
Once fought for, but now
Simply handed over into the care of others
Those with minutes and hours
And days spent dreaming, staring through glass
From moving seats in country wilderness
The only thing they are unaware of
Is the reflection they stare through

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