Bolero

The sun comes anew, voices flowering the span.
When dew from god’s angels breathes life into air,
And birds tune sweet songs to the cradles of man,
The light lifts above to assemble and flare.

The sun straight above, attempting to care
For the bustlers about, creating their way.
The buildings conceal the loss and the wear
Created by footsteps, assaulting the clay.

The sun’s warm arms constrict light into grey.
All movement arrests, consumed by the gloom.
Where buds once conveyed their glaring array,
Now only remains a dark, molten plume.

The moon sighs disgust, complete with disdain.
Cycles uninterrupted, shone whitely again.

Extinguished

The hair on the pillow is not my own.
Its dull, dark sheen burns my passion.
The light screams through the panes, afire,
Atop my back, burning compassion.

I rise from my double, dazed and fallen,
In search of him, ten years prior.
The walls, the floors, all call of the past
Through scars, tears, undead fire.

I sit, exhale, warmth already cold.
The empty air suffocating my smile.
Pictures hung awkwardly mock my distress;
Old faces mendacious, expressions sans trial.

My gaze secures focus and wanders the room
Looking for any to bring essence to my soul.
The stagnance of romance is all I can find.
Empty house, empty home,
Has taken its toll.

Chilled Warmth

The wet beneath my soles strides with me.
Drops attack my body from all sides.
Warm air collides with the cold torrent
And for a moment my time divides.

Tides flow downward past the bustling homes;
Teachers, lawyers, warm by their fires.
A sly wink steals my gaze, bright yet cold.
The stare of a feline and its desires.

It rests on the sill, clean and sharp.
Its privileged eyes intrude my thoughts.
Just as quick, it turns away and jumps
Leaving me with envy, tears in clots.

Uphill, I continue. Windows glow
And flicker at my slow, dampened pace.
Other cats sit upon heated thrones,
My envy exhaled, visage scapegrace.

A noise halts my march. I turn and peer
Down a rain-soaked alley t’wards the cry.
A kitten jumps, shocked at my figure
Standing before him. He mews a sigh.

He frolics about, en route to see
The warmth, the friend, in my wand’ring self.
Droplets fall from his bounds and his leaps.
His peace preserved, dimly lit on a shelf.

He rubs alongside me, our moisture combined.
Content in his finding, uneasy at heart.
Movement above sees an indoor’s dry stare.
He dreams, pauses, darts away.
Seen not again, a drenchèd reason to part.

Quixotica

Would you like to play?

Push start. Pull back.

The unknown beckons, the bricks in the sky
Emit flashes of power, abed with the stars.
The enemy flattened where pink women float
To burn all the flowers, forming matutinal scars.

The self is unseen, a terror worthwhile.
An arsenal breaking the imps of tomorrow.
When music constructs the one-eyed demons
We fall, they groan: lower than the low.

Pull. Stop. Push back.

Get up. Hurry! Russia beats out of union.
If the blocks don’t fit, you make them. No blur.
Now faster, n’hesitation. Erase the below.
Mind gone with speed; matter with colour.

Imminent failure arrives in whirls blue.
Into the hoops, through the hoops, then up the walls.
Maybe if you could strive to crush the opponent
Would you not be a two-tailed mammal on balls.

When it ends sound strikes, monkeys barrel unrewards.
Work useless, life fleeting, time’s up, cut the cords.

Would you like to continue?

A View from the Cliff

The light hits my eyes, forever, and stains away the blaze of night.
All over. All over. Painted swans and death alive
Caress my innocence and shatter my nation.

What I’ve done, what I’ve not: I’m sorry, so sorry, for tempting the rot.
The shadows behind me, the plans before
All derailed to this moment, all forgotten, forlorn.

Now I’m gone, thrown away like all those around me.
My soul watches the end, my end, their end, all ends,
With exquisite sadness for the seconds lost
And stabs of happiness for those minutes not able to breathe.