Come Undone

COME UNDONE

filtered soft, downy dimming

here, where all the world is spinning

time suspended in the dark

cats in absence, smiles grinning

ambled down a path alluring

creatures hidden, deeply purring

knot into the second act

implication slipped and blurring

come undone, euphoric sun

glimmer in the distance warming

arms enfold a youth once cold

an inflorescent bloom transforming

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To Minos, with Love

TO MINOS, WITH LOVE

 Shade One

In life I travelled far and wide

With bags of trinkets by my side.

I claimed that each a saint had blessed

And those who bought one passed God’s test.

So peddling wares of merit false

Bought me this end, this devil’s waltz.

Shade Two

I never moved myself to try.

I did but nothing till I died.

No stand against another took

Nor did promote the Holy Book.

I never made to move a thumb

And now await what is to come.

Shade Three

“Who are these fools who blind believe 

In souls and such? They are deceived.”

So said I when earth I walked

And never thought I’d know the shock 

of being wrong, yet here am I

To witness what I thought were lies.

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Barsabbas

BARSABBAS

Barsabbas, did you feel it?

Winds shifting, lots cast. What was it—

Thirteen not to be, not for you?

Barsabbas, did you earn it?

Not good enough, no better than

One spitting silver as he hanged?

Barsabbas, did you want it?

The traitor’s place, it simmering

While another gained by luck?

Barsabbas, did you grudge it?

He, you’d die for, He you loved—

He who left you for a fledgling?

Feel it, earn it, want it, grudge it—

Matters not what men may show.

Soul immortal—mind the portal.

What they are aren’t what we know.

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ce/2b/13/ce2b1371e720ba8bc7d04cae444869e4.jpg

Dark House

DARK HOUSE

satin spire above the blue

earthbound star of hope anew

once a sign of haven

crusted spike upon the sea

crumbling stone now travesty

fear of all the craven

formed a fossil on the shore

relic lost and now ignored

time its only mate

silent rests the warn of fog

defunct bulb and broken cog

given oe’r to fate

pasture once the land around

now in patches burnt and browned

extant, none for miles

ages pass and ages prey

web the brick with salt and spray

life once lived ensiled

nights in enigmatic dream

remain so, no fulgent beam

to guide a wan’drer home

but beneath the sedentary

moves a mote involuntary

murmurs weave a change

ripening until its hour

lying latent in its tower

catacomb deranged

last one day of dew and haze

enkindles deep within the maze

flame in monochrome

gold not this one, bright not so,

this in negative it glows

creeps outward, seeking veins

reaches to the spire’s core

up it races, void abhorred

swells with stuff inane

writhing worm of hollow star

coils, waits in broken jar

prophesies its birth

nascent once, now perfected

punctures sky and light infected

crackles in its mirth

bar of absence, shaft of shade

adumbrate the glen and glade

phantoms glide within

paradox of time and space

bleak antithesis of grace

living’s end begins 

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The Magic Shop

THE MAGIC SHOP

corridors strange and ways aslant

the magic shop is still

orbs and crystals, dolls a-nest

dust eating the windowsill

who knows where it goes

and what noses it growses

the whips and whims ensnare

they watch what they want

and wants what they hunts

they find themselves down there

covetous corners where black is born

trinkets glint in the gloom

tricks and glitter, strings atwist

the fragile centers bloom

come in now, the puppets

here sweets is; here treats is

no wicked, no no, not that here

we sell and we sold,

we have and we hold,

and never a screak or a tear

bumbering, fumbering, tumbering child

alone and lost is it

precious, the one who goes astray

whose magical mouths is split

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Beastie

BEASTIE

Who brands the beast a beast? A swine

A swine? We sat, us sat alone,

Alone in our laze, our lumbering wattles,

Waddling and wallowing, wasting the day—

Daydreams daubing our dusky eyes,

Eyes darkly dissecting us, dim all the while

While whispering wildly their witless sounds,

Sounds that were stamping us, splitting our skin.

Skin and scale, rolling skeins of flesh,

Flesh that they felt was foul and strange.

Strangers they stayed, no sentiment,

Meant poison and pain, their plans for the free.

Free of fear, us frittered on the lake-stones.

“Lake of the luses, those lost and turbulent.”

Turbulent were our tusks; torpid were our ways--

Our ways damned in the dawn, we deemed the waters wrong.

Wrong the arrow winged that wounded our heart,

Heartless were he who heaved our body

Bodily to the beach, having breached our hope.

Hope in our heft was hooked by the stabbing blades;

Blades and their boar-spears broke us--the wave-rider.

Riding our ruin, the rivals called to battle,

Battle horns blowing, boasting their hero

Heroically hellward, hurtled into the mere.

Mere mercy a mummery, removed from our home,

Home not here, we “horror” gone, we “horror” bled.

https://ferrebeekeeper.files.wordpress.com/2015/06/iku-turso-a-malevolent-sea-monster-in-finnish-mythology-mentioned-in-the-finnish-national-epic-kalevala.jpg?w=584

The Seed

THE SEED 
Within its shell, it’s clasped, caressed, so delicate--
The world it knows the press of warming palms,
And nowhere in itself, devotion intricate,
 
Does hope inspire more than it embalms,
For when it breathes, it resonates an undue hymn
While waves above dissemble erring calm.
 
Oh, wraith conceived so many ways, so dim,
What primal play intended is at hand?
A thimble o’erflows, its burdened brim
 
Turned topside-down for all its penitence unplanned.   
The seed, it sleeps, will thrive in counterfeit,
Will flourish darkly, secrets kept in wooded land.

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Perfect Self

 PERFECT SELF

curl into a perfect self

take and dust it from the shelf

mortal, moral, minced and fed

thought it all was left for dead

here a posey, there a rosey

ne’er a nosey brain has bled

it fled . . . . . .

it fled.

unpredicted, undefiled

answers questions once gone wild

perfect self, it’s tender, mild

whittled from adult to child

thought it grown, thought it gone

ne’er right but always wrong

so long . . . . . .

so long.

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