No title

Along the way things seemed to occur
but now when things happen they do so in silence

the long hand encroached upon the short hand
but never could it pass as the short hand was damaged
during the war of words

without time to measure themselves by
they were without memory

without memory all trace of familiarity was given to the wind
of course the wind died and the traces left draped over trees
did no good

the gardener tending to its growth
was well rewarded in the ensuing weeks
and then again, in the afterlife

Infiltrations

Lost in the blue

Stalking a priest and he is dead
unto me but still, time to look ahead
and the weight of the dead lingers on
until past the end of the day
and morning is not hurrying along
its fire out there and yet cold as her eyes
this last summer she was distant

distance terrors

The entire effort was enormous
three hundred and fifty six days spent without you
we seem to exist in two very different worlds
here and there over the jungle mystery danger
or the cakes that float on the water
meteorology played out by slaves
on the grand court of decision
here we have Collosus in chains
and there David without experience
pitched against one another to tell us how to win
we pick up the books and put them down again
leaves on the ground think of nothing
they are walked on
and no longer really
considered valid

like spent radio waves that get locked into weather systems and passed
between the sun and the moon, reflections from which ninety years later can be perceived as
if amplified from space. Or they are from a alien race. What you believe
tells you how to react to it
what we believe dictates whose
lives are taken without fear of divine retribution

there is no divinity for those that kill
there is no heaven for those that scar others
there is no calm for the evil of heart
and there is fun for Atilla the Hun

Civilization, huh?

Chaos matters introduction

The shoes fit like gloves onto
tender hands that
caress midnight fears away

from - Chaos and Matter, 1992

Perhaps it is best to start at the start, and sometimes it is better to use it as a mythology.
Hating the fragile web that held him fast, he fathomed options that ran like a space race
if he stood on glass and looked down there was no horizon

fast he swept away all grief and spoke upon the naked doorstep like butterflies sheltered from the wind
that would otherwise carry them on the path to Bethlehem

Bruised as they fell and nobody wanted to look for weeks
the diplomacy failed so they brought in the shrink
his quivering eyes unfolded with that soggy megalomania
as he paused and turned

Right there at that site of mystery he felt undiscovered
the first humans felt their way around the rock
and discovered they could get off it

walk in the snow
and ride the horses

the breath of beginnings is slow
the start of the greatest storms ever start
during the gliding fall of a feather