Cuarentena

Where’d the sunlight go, and to where all the shade?

Both have left walking – quite rudely, I’d say.

What shall we do without darkness or light?

Wherefore the sun? Wherefore now the night?

We cannot go on in this timeless abyss, this

Spiral of seconds that do not exist.

Confined in the circle of what was and not yet is

We wait for awake – and asleep – to be fixed.

If I don’t escape soon, I fear I’ll soon give in

But how can I give in with nothing to resist?

Welcome home, soul

Where have I been, these years, these years

Where have I been these nights?

In what kind of hovel have I been hiding

Afraid of what courage, which light?

I’m tired and empty of what the world has

Over the conquests of fools and men

Every heart in this world, it seems

Is gaunt, irrelevant, and has been

Filled up by the sloppiest, patched up with paltry

Seasoned with promises reeling with poetry,

Stricken with senselessness, sickened with hurry

These hearts do not wait upon or at all.

I am weary of restless, nauseous of breathless

Seeking the foundation you bring.

I left for a time- and forgive me, I lied-

To my own starving heart of my means.

But I’ve reconciled here, and I’ve realized now

My future is elsewhere, it waits in the power

Of the Lion of Glory and Might.

My silence is sacred, but my praise is outrageous

And I will scream to the Heavens

That the shadows must now

contend with the Light.

Carrionspeech

I simply want to peruse the view

Circle ’round the vultures, catch the pieces they strew.

A syllable here, a vowel or two,

The cannibalized chunks of the wording we do.

I’m waiting for permission, but they’re circling lower

They don’t want to share

And that’s fair

But I’m starving.

Self inflicted

We sometimes want what will not help…

We seek the lights that will melt our hands

Fingers stretching to touch the gold;

Grasping flames not meant to hold…

We sometimes trust what is always wrong…

Freeing floods deeper than our souls,

Lamenting as we cannot float

Cries for mercy cut off by mill-stones

We trap ourselves then weep for home.

Slain

I still think about you, wonder if my veins will ever forget

The way your hand felt pressed against my chest

how soft your skin was, how unreal the red seemed

Painted on his gloves, it weaves through my dreams

I have not tasted sleep since the night you came my way

I have not faced a dreamless land since the horror of that day

Every sundown, nightmares come to wriggle in my mind

I do not rest, I only wait

In agony for sunrise.

Vanessa

Every time I close my eyes

I see her body at my feet

Lying crooked in the street

Gurgling breath, begging me

The other prevailing thought…

“Her old hands were so soft.”

I hope you are okay. I grieve for what

Happened that day.