rhythmic quietude

Hardest you are capable of, for

Time ought not to escape you;

Enter the liquid form of some slowing

Frame and become the lead you would

See

  Take my lead through the silver eyes that

Burn into our memory

For they dictate truth from morality

And so I have attached myself to

Thorns and beautiful untruths

  And as I breathe an air of stagnancy

And delay, I wonder when the time will

Come again, for a sincere step to be

Taken

  This wolf seems to have completed his

Full course, running right back at me

Where the animalistic loyalty is the

Mark of my downfall

  He tears the eyes one by one at night

And tires of satisfaction by morning

And I am able only to sigh

  II

And as a vessel, I do not take this wolf’s

Form – I cannot risk such a simple metaphor

And I weep today for such a death in subtlety

I thank the non-believer of my heart,

The weight of truth and the steady-

All the life and the light of the world

And I stand in your radiance, awestruck

Figures laze upon my window,

Resolute and fiery

 -

Again the old feeling sparks your

Entity upon my imagination;

What have I to dream of but of your

Splendour this night, given that I can see

You at my window

 -

And such is the bright hope, that I

Fathom the reason which I uphold so

Mightily,

 -

That you may watch over me before

The sun dips into the horizon,

Before the sleeping soul has

Departed my breath

 -

I cannot see you in my eyes, as

Plainly as the sober day before us,

But in the night you are the clearest –

 -

Marry the fears upon my head with

Fantasy,

Destroy the mirrors inside my head,

So that I may perceive

Definitively

 -

Return to me, as you exist in my

Mind, night wanderer, spirit half of

There are specific things that may be acknowledged:

Growth is painful, learning to be alone is natural,

Youth is tortured, too silent, too much stimulation

The caffeine draining our minds of any rational thought

The hormonal cyclone of immaturity and desire for anything,

Everything, more, always

 -

As I watch those around me grow into those I do and do not

Aspire to be, in a quiet intensity, so too I feel the fluid in veins,

Of ‘Ginsy and Jack’, as it flies through me in meaning, or in vain

 -

I do not maintain a position of steadfast breathing, nor a statue

Of some other deity I aim to be;

In fact, I am flighty, I am never in one solid form, and perhaps I

Am held only in the palms of those in my midst, for my foresight

Is limited – I have neglected the good wishes of the eyes

 -

Hold me, dear friends, for I dare not walk alone; such fright is

Comical to my composure

But isolation is as best as I would like to be, for is not the most

Insight derived from the peaceful mind of reassurance and

Resolution?

What better to resolve than the pulse of one’s own hand, what the

Heart may wish to make of loneliness – the one constant human

Condition

 -

II

There are such epiphanies to be had, in the growth (pain) of

New friendships and the floating conversations of strangers

(All things that float are irrelevant, for they do not adhere to

Substance)

And may the ground hold me down with a might unwavering, so that

I withhold the nausea of living

 -

‘What a time to be alive’ – what a self-reflexive epiphany – so

Mindlessly suggested by those to whom I’ve granted wings in my eyes

And though thoughts may be spared, I am thankful of the little (but

Boundless) insight of those blinder than I, regarding everything

In the past life I vehemently try to revive

 -

III

For don’t you see it now, there is a revolution within our jaded minds,

A revolution in the cyclical sense, that the cogs in our hearts may

Turn faster than fast

And possessions fall apart or dissolve, as we value the eyes

Of our souls – what a sight to behold, the New Romantics or Old

 -

Let us separate the lives of our parents and dive in the cold

Fall of a world melted tenfold

Our eyes be the witnesses to the fires of disgust, and the fires

Of resentment, of irreverence, and false sympathy

 -

As I rip out the insincerity of daily, ordinary acceptance of life,

It is apparent that honesty is not the constellation I watch in

My night

Rather, she is an entity at times horrid, or bright for weary eyes

 -

And may I aspire to pursue such a noble lady as honesty in

This lifetime,

May her challenge or power strip my eyes, from time to time

From this badly- imagined perception that is thrust in our minds

By some society so inept, that she rejects the cry of

Her own child

 -

Let the child grow to become the forefront of love, the leading solution;

If society will not nurse the humanity at her feet, then let the

Role be inverted;

Such power as we have not seen lies at our feet,

Vacant and culminating –

 -

And I will seize whatever finality I can grasp, for the world is

One burning phenomenon away from some Hell we’ve imagined

And I hope you will take my hand as one, even in too

Much silence, too much stimulation, and we will pinpoint the

To the left of me, I would be dragged

Through the earth’s core with ceaseless

Suffering

And to my right, I would live so in an

Ignorant and self-righteous bliss

Among the everyman

 -

And at my centre there lies a

Fault or shortage of light

There lies a hesitation, as I do not

Find direction in the ignorance of bliss

Nor the hunger of my eyes to drag

These legs through and around a

Dare speak occasionally, and so I welcome

Them, along with the fear they instill, and the

Pleasure of their pain

- 

There are refined territories that I see in you,

And I occasionally welcome them, in all their

Mournful splendour, and their satisfaction,

Begrudging with inhumane claws,

Gripped, certain, in eyes rendered blind –

- 

I remind you I am a statue of sobriety,

I am appeasement to the non-believer, or

Perhaps you, faithful to No Thing

 -

Though you may be easy to appease,

Take my company as a sign of the times

And to appeal to me would be to no avail

 -

(Have you not learned of the arts, young

Beggar?

Do you ceaselessly beg – and for what?

The essence of truth lies within you,

Don’t you know?)

 -

Though your thought may be treasured,

A formidable greatness of cognition – do

Not fret

 -

For we are crossed – in heart? In body?

In eyes? – only temporarily

And the narrative I am often asked to

Provide is how I feel

 -

(Whereupon I stand to release the answers

Of a mind so wound)

 -

Some of you will choose to stand on the

Very breath that grips you,

Some may choose the most resilient

Earth

 -

I will choose to stand perhaps on the shoulder

Of a mountain or the periphery of a storm,

Fledgling of the sky as I am, allow me to ignite

The flames within my mind

 -

For I will take the very spirit that teaches

You to be unkind and return it to the eyes

That are averted

 -

And what shall cause you to become so

Unaligned – with the earth, with yourself,

Even with myself, what makes you so undefined?

 -

Here’s to hoping that our habitual nature

Shatters all expectation and predictability

So refined

 -

Here’s to hoping the minute deviations of

Our lives become stars by which we focus

Our eyes

 -

Here is to a hope that springs in the winter

And suffers in spring, and that all may

I

Life is formed around habitual ritual,

As the lover awakens with another and

Commences the mundane by another

And as the individual prepares for the

Unmasked world, he does so alone

- 

And when hearts are wrung under the pressures

Of habit, the world begins to spin anew

As though we are so attached to our habits

That we forget they are merely acts

 -

II

As the acts of sanction and sanctimony

Become apparent, where then do we define

The most profound?

 -

And as ritual shall dictate our moral underpinnings,

So too shall it craft our identity- for we cannot have

Faith as an arbitrary force

 -

And the most beautiful of imagery lays calmly

Within some rituals, so prized in the acts of

 There is endless capacity for the boundaries of intimacy

And if it is so what you shall see in me, then it is so

What I shall see in you

  And there is no end to the suffering you so wish to prevent in

My heart, just as there is no end to yours

Just as the sky would refuse to illuminate our paths

Then so shall I, be a beacon of this unwavering light

  Perhaps what you may seek may not be light – for

It is so clearly an affinity to which you do not aspire;

But I can also be nothing more or nothing less than

The affinity I desire

  And is it the truth of a generation that we all seek out

Those with such wisdom, those with little humility –

At such age, that we feel comfortable to be with

Ourselves?

  On what shelves do we place our hearts for such matters

Of pursuit, so irrational as they may be?

How can you call yourself an experiment in the making of

My life when such a part of me is lost?

  I cannot measure significance in a night, but just the

Same as you cannot measure my sight

  What truth presents itself shall do so in whatever future

Lies in my wake –

What company or misery becomes a dreaming reality

And suffice to say that certain plans I would have

To remake – such is the nature of the world, such the

Torment of humanity

  II So do the trials of human error echo, so too they ring

Out imperfectly;

Such is the limitation of my foresight, such the imitation

What is control but an accessory to be worn

On us, around heads as a garland of some truth

We may hold dear

  If it not something to seek out – then perhaps

It is a form of truth wherein we find comfort

Embedded within some mindset, within some happier

In pursuing those that we cannot

Have, that the course of love

Gradually unwinds and inter-

Twines itself on our necks

Grasping for a life source that

Is self- defeating and precious

All at once

 -

The intensity by which she

Holds our necks is unmatched

By such acquaintances as

Friendship and health

 -

Intimacy is, on the other hand, an

Infectious ivy sprouting

Around our wrists,

And thus we are children,

Grounded deep in roots we

Cannot fathom

 -

And as we lay, bound by

All our intimacies, in the

Ground as wildflowers,

The sun cycles his

Due course as though we

May have not existed

 -

What affirms our existence

In a second? What great

Influence does change

The rhythm of our hearts

So that we may change

The course of the world?

 -

Slowly but surely, this slow

Intimacy, in all its roots, in

Our arms bound, destroys

And builds all at once;

Injustice and an ethical

Law do not save us from

The acts of the heart

 -

No comparable force, indeed,

May sway the mind as

The heart does; both to

Fortunate and unfortunate

Circumstance

 -

May we then measure our lives

By the lengths of these

Endeavours? By the lengths

Of all the sunrises spent in

Pursuit of lost loves, of

Unrequited love, of loss

And demand, of this growing

Seedling of that old

Friend, intimacy

 -

If a measure of life is

Essentially a measure of all

We have failed to succeed

At – what sort of relationship

Is this one we can call love?

 -

For does not love only serve to

Haunt our very desires,

To threaten to fulfill all

The dulled senses of

My veins, the red hearth running from my heart,

Like the Styx – I, like the Underworld God, burn

From the fires of my passions, rather than the

Cool wave of resolution

 -

I am alive, yet I feel like the God trapped beneath

The fires

In health and in love, I cannot feel more alive

Than I do now

 -

The breath of the night, heavy and fast, ceaselessly