Tag Archives: writing

Tracking Dirt

24 Sep

Tracking Dirt – SoF

I sewed seeds and their harvests reveal,

the need to retread,

the paths in my head.

Ruminate while tending to plots,

I forgot,

oh, I weed a lot.

Captivate me quietly,

and take me to that place,

where the past leads the way.

I can’t slow down I am jumping between,

a bay side town,

and a swamp and a frown.

Culminate can I stop the clock?

I’m backed up at the block,

a metaphorical clot.

You can fake me perfectly,

I’ll talk about today,

in my regular way.

Step outside to a luminous shock,

with my feet in the grass,

and my eyes at half mast.

It permeates and by the time I can see,

cool grey sky has arrived,

tornado inside the eye.

Jar this ghost reality,

and take me to the place,

where I lead the way.

Rain falls down and this drought is repealed,

and it’s flooding my fields,

spring forth a bountiful yield.

I cultivate and I am present again,

you’re a delicate wind,

and you’re taking my hand.

Image: Lotus Carroll

Probably something about hands again

9 Jan

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Michael Homnick – Moment

I’m going to blend, because the rest is blended. Only known because I’d descended, amended and transcended. Soon I’ll have those old man hands. Finger flexation result of a thought’s creation to end destination.
I’m going to blend the thing I lost and the thing I’d condemned. A long struggle come to an end.
But in the end, what will I defend?
What is false and what is true? The things in cinemas, what is staged and what is us? The difference between Lake Quinault and Las Vegas.

Same ideas, same old loops.
What’s the difference between me and you?
In between dragons and rains, remember?
I sewed seeds for complex floodplains.
I’m a new man of a different age.

Image by Pocket Images

With my eyes closed, close my eyes.

17 Nov

Walk With Me – Moby

You’re all elbows and I was the soda machine,

dishing out what everyone needs,

the basket weaver ran back to the trees, and

I’m alright.

I didn’t buy cause there wasn’t bait.

He’s making these things that he hates

well it shows and you know what?

I hate them too.

Or that’s an idea from long ago,

tangled in the lost and forgot.

In this hail I love you more.

contrast wild like storm and stable ground.

A newborn and ghost.

I’ll keep you warm and an eye on the stove.

I hope there are no spirits.

Because if these dreams of mine are signs,

then who knows if I’ll see another winter.

and if there are no spirits,

I’ll build a house with you in it.

Home is me and home is her.

24 Jun

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Safe – Nosaj Thing

These are the lost hands that wrote my future.

The lost feet that are my ship.

Navigator’s lost the compass and we’re unsure,

but I’ll keep these sails taut til they rip.

I breathe in my chest and I shoot from the hip.

 

A world of mistakes are mine to make.

Mine to create.

I shake em loose

and ingest them willingly.

because there’s no soul in living blissfully.

I flee in my rest, and I shoot from my lips.

 

Connor, death is ever present.

every day’s a day gone on.

You’ve still got some time.

Some days to hear death’s song.

 

Sailing’s fine and living is nice and if

nothing’s nothing til I try it

I’ve got play to work

and a song to find it.

 

I teethe at the breast, and I’m food in the crypt.

I peak at the crest, and I sail til they rip.

 

Image – Abri_Beluga

 

Diving

20 May

Mimicking Birds – The Chimney Sweep

 

I slipped fate.

The coarse, rough, and fear

feeling midpoint.

Trampling medians between

The   plunge       and     the  numb.

Some doubt grows and fades.

A dying breath

thick with spit and

maybe this is right.

Maybe I’m comfortable with this.

Or maybe my compass got stuck a long time ago.

Either way I don’t think I’m that OK.

Rebirth.

It takes nine months to come to this.

Every child begins the world again,

to some extent,

and so have I.

And I will not stop dying.

One day The Ship will sail.

And I’ll be on it.

 

image: fiddle oak

A poem about my new shirt!

23 Apr

Black Moth Super Rainbow – Lake Feet

We’ve all got skeletons,

skin deep down.

When we get cut they try and climb out.

So we curse and shout some

skin deep noun.

Send those fuckers home in pale green gowns.

We

make them hurt.

We

drown em in

ethanol.

Sewn into the scars in our bodies. Hide our bodies inside clothes. Close those jackets, never to be opened or exposed.

Because

We’ve got a fear of being open and exposed.

Of

taking off our clothes.

Of

the stories of our scars.

Of

all these bones of ours.

What a world this would be if we had no skin.

No muscles or nerves,

nothing to hide in.

image: unknown

 

In love, love.

8 Mar

Angels (Four Tet Remix) – The XX

In love, love.

when I’m in, I’m in.

And then,

It’s different, stronger.

A puzzle we solved.

In love, glove.

When it’s on, I’m me.

Warm me.

Same but stronger.

I know that I am

,

in love, Love.

as a pair, let’s take

hands, time

and take them longer.

How about forever?