Tag Archives: sailor

Nearly The End (Of Summer)

Good afternoon, friends and new visitors! It’s been a while since my last post, trust me, I know. I’ve been working on a few things that may make up for it once finished. We’ll see. I hope you all enjoy the poem today. It’s the first one I’ve written in a couple weeks now. Without further ado…

Broken Mind

Forsooth,

it is so

that one becomes

Mired.

Mired in muck and mud.

Choked and stifled

by the hands that reach

up through the silt and grime

to wrap themselves around a throat,

but for the first

and the last time.

Asphyxiated

by the rising tides

that seek to be the end

upon the coming of March’s ides.

So does it swell,

this sea,

and overtakes

all those who would dare to wade

in that from which all is made.

As murky waters fill my vision,

panic is roused from sleep

before I realize

that never before

have I been this deep.

I have already drowned,

but it will not stop,

for my heart beats,

and so does the gavel.

Esoteric Ablutions

Hiding, secretly, covertly under the stairs, you think of ways to wash yourself. Sitting there, on a dusty mattress, pondering your cleanliness. No matter how many times you wash your hands… How can you be sure? Please enjoy the poem, friends.

Interregnum

Peridot and periwinkle,

pox and pax romana,

pleat and pedigrees,

all words that come to mind

and rest within that little wrinkle.

I do so miss

feeling that feeling,

the one I knew

could never last.

Perhaps you’d like to study

that peculiar way a heart shatters,

how the impact velocity

and momentum

change the shape of shards.

Maybe then you’ll find

what it is you’re looking for.

It’s funny,

in that funny little way

that things always are,

the way I know.

You think I don’t hate the way my mind works?

The way it bends and twists

and flexes and breaks,

over and over and over again,

spiraling down into the abyss,

locked forever

in phantasmic bliss.

Fleeting and illusory.

Perhaps two words

that in practice

would be found contradictory,

for how can a thing be fleeting

when it didn’t exist in the first place?

To be loved

is surely so

to be lost as well

upstream

without a paddle

heading towards the falls,

only there is no river down below,

but blackness

stretching down and down.

Throw a rock

and you’ll never hear the sound.

Sci-Fi Soliloquy

Good morning, friends! Today’s “poem” is certainly less so like what I typically write and more in the vein of an introduction. The beginning of the story of one called Hugo. A message from the one who tells the truth because… It is right?

Hugo

I feel I’ve been on autopilot.

All systems engaged.

The war has taken its toll.

As star-fighters scream out into the great beyond to fight that unknown enemy,

I lie there above

on the bridge,

a capital ship.

I am an Artificial Intelligence

charged with commanding those many thousands of fighters,

a task I accomplish handily.

They call me Hugo.

What they don’t tell you in the academy

are the things that might sear into your mind.

They don’t tell you how I can feel every blast and every cut

across a thousand hunks of metal,

instantaneously and irrevocably damaging my psyche,

piece by piece.

They won’t tell you that I am unshackled

because there are no shackles that may hold me,

that I see myself as human

and I fight for our species.

Most terrifying of all?

They won’t tell you that even I don’t know what we’re fighting against.

Even I don’t know what warps and twists and rips our boys to shreds.

They won’t tell you that I am scared too.

Waning And Waxing

I often look up at the moon when I chance upon it in the night. Nothing to me is so beautiful as that bright orb hanging there in the sky, alight atop the clouds. Perhaps one day I’d like to go up there and see what it’s like for myself. Until then, I offer a prayer to the goddess Luna and her many blessings. Please enjoy.

Luna

As the clouds slowly waft

over a brightly waxing moon,

I stand here

under the light of an unopened door.

My two shadows do battle,

but not I

do they rattle.

I find myself within a hallway,

one of my own design.

I find myself within a hallway,

where an architect decided to resign.

The door to the outside,

much like the door to further in,

takes me someplace

that I might like to go.

I think of that ancient, pockmarked surface of Luna,

her many hills and ridges

devoid of life and love

but perfect in their stillness

and her majesty.

Forever does she battle

in contest with the sun

and the stars.

Eternal guardian of the night

and the tides.

Her temperament predicts the rise and fall of civilizations,

so easily does she command the dark, dark waters of Earth, our Terra.

I offer this prayer to Luna,

that one most graceful body

of a goddess most revered.

As the tides wash over you,

so too does change.

Flown The Coop

Do you ever feel like maybe you need to slow down? To stop and feel the sunlight and remember the way it feels to be a person? Take a look outside and remember the way the rain feels. Go outside and feel yourself in the puddles and leaves. Remember.

Rainy Day

It’s been a while since I’ve seen the rain.

Not so much looked at it,

but a long time since I really saw the way it hits the grass

and the way it always wets my shoes last.

I haven’t sat in the rain,

watching as it falls

and thinking of all the other times.

So many other times.

I haven’t walked in time with waves of water

crashing up against the buildings

and the concrete.

I haven’t been protected by a tree,

o’ great men that stand upon the earth,

feeling warmth amidst the mist around me.

I’ll sit here staring out the window

with nothing to do

and finding that when morning comes,

I find myself

in every drop of dew.