You Forgot To Remember

Good afternoon. I’ve forgotten something but I can’t remember what it was. Gone and forgotten. Dust and sand blow over the ruins of ancient ruins, ancient kingdoms. Jewels of the west, of the east, of the north, of the south. Petrified fossils of trees the only remnants of great forests where emperors hunted plentiful game. Where paramours sat by long-forgotten sparkling waters, lakes now hidden by the changing of dunes whose phantom iridescence eludes even the most dedicated explorers, so far removed from water these old bones now lie. I like to think that if I dig down far enough, I’d find those nobles hunting great game in their beautiful forests. I’d find those bustling cities overflowing with goods and frenzied merchants. Perhaps I’d even find those lovers still embracing on the banks of that crystalline lake.


Callback

So far, so well

Come and gone

Numb at the base

Tell me again

about the test case?

Today a day like any other

Today a day, just another

Upset your mother

Unseat your brother

How the tides of war shape you

Someday you’ll understand too

Fare thee well

Peer again into the swell

Find a gleaming agate still

Remember those pretty little stones

How those little hands held them

How those shining eyes beheld them

History forgets

But I remember

Every memory a painting

To each beloved, a sainting

Frère Jacques

Dormez-vous?

Sonnez les matines…

Wake up!

It is time to feed the machine.

Robinson Crusoe

Afternoon. Oftentimes I dream of the high seas. I am an adventurous spirit, an ambitious man. I sometimes forget how easy it is, how common it is, to be lost at sea. To be lost and never find your way again in that wide blue expanse. I grew up on stories of the Bermuda Triangle, Amelia Earhart, Captain Cook, etc. Adventurers and pioneers and even just regular old people losing their way and never being found again. What adventures they had. Having been lost myself, albeit in a more metaphorical sense, I have come to appreciate the ones who got lost even moreso. They take a path we don’t need to. Trailblazers one and all. Some day I think all those lost ones will be found again. No one is ever truly lost forever. Only waiting to be found.


Sacred Isle

Castaway

Shorn, torn apart and scorned

Tatters and rags

Beggars and dregs

Richest man on the island

Though the poorest so too

See how the stars aline

Blood omens line the sky

So allein, a sign!

Hoping to yourself it’s not a lie

Hereafter, maybe a beer after?

Hearing echoes in your laughter

Of your laughter

Bats and bugs hang from the rafter

Fair seas and fair winds

They’ve gone rusty, all your tins

Your hair’s getting long, friend

“Who’s speaking? Who’s that?”

“Oh.”

Just my head again

Little bug, little bug

How you run away…

Those Riders Four

I bring to you a scene. A fog settles over you. Sirens begin to sound. The sky breathes and heaves with fire and smog. You can’t find your keys, not that you could see to drive. A haze so thick and so permeant that you can barely see your reflection in the windows of a nearby house. A cacophony of sirens and horns that slowly eases into a low drone replaced by not-so-distant screams. You think you feel something nearby in the mist. Something breathing. Skittering, scuttling things in the…


Miasma

A diseased, pestilent miasma settles over the glen

A fog so thick you can barely see your hand

Ancient runes and sacred stones replaced by boils and pustules of horrid ooze

Peace is lost and hardly found

Wear a mask to hide your face

Prepare yourself for the coming race

The sage has wilted, mistletoe rotten

As trees wither and become forgotten

A swamp to take its place

Monsters march in malodorous mist

Forming together some demonic tryst

They watch and stalk you through the smog

You’ve lost your way

Landmarks vanish

Compasses don’t work here.

Everything gone awry

Their eyes watching every step you take

Waiting for your first mistake

Gnashing teeth and demonic screams in cacophonous harmony

Though hardly could you describe their cruel countenance

You must find a new place

Far and away in outer space

But first to win the race

And avoid the demon’s gaze

Another Little Love Story

Guten Morgen, Freunde! Every day is an opportunity for another little love story. Fall in love even more with the person you love, fall in love with the trees and the dirt, fall in love with air you breathe and the little tiny dogs you see walking in the street. Life is often hard, but I’ve said before: You don’t need to harden yourself to match it. Find peace in acceptance of yourself and all things. Find love in your heart where you thought it had left. Be softer and kinder to yourself and those around you. Never give up. The World won’t. Why should you?


It’s A Helluva Lot

Spending months away at sea

Leaving just the baby and she

Thinking to myself about the way they miss me

Hoping happy she will be

Coming home to see her eyes

Reflecting deep blue skies

And her love I need not prise

For with her I won’t capsize

Stepping from the boat and holding her

Hearing the machines choke and whir

And i can say with confidence she’s better than pictures

Sitting at the foot of the bed

Knowing that someday we’ll be wed

Thinking of the life we have ahead

I’ll one day leave this ship and be with her instead

I’ll give up being a sailor and be the one she counts on

I’ll wake up every morning to her smile with the dawn

Knowing when the time comes that i won’t again be gone

Playing in the Snow

Good morning, everybody! Another wonderful day filled with cold. Good luck to everyone–I hope no one loses power today. I have another little poem today that’s in the spirit of an icy snow day.


Ice man

these fallen timbers

sum of somber shivers

it is very cold out today 

almost makes you want to wish the snow away

silent snow, nothing to say

these cobbled stones

amid avian tones

clocktower. clocktowers. in the distance

ticking. tocking. across the expanse

something, somewhere has put you in a trance

how frigid the sights

how tasteful the noise

something in the rearview bites

acting with spectral poise

hungry for more

but oh so sore

play that fiddle boy

but careful now, that’s no toy

you best hope to bring me joy