#passive ingression

Passive Ingression 1.27.23 “Dreams are for the dreamers, the waiters, storytellers, story listeners, and all of which are actors, grand roles, shoes to fill“

Each limped lamp-lit night I linger, lay in wait for sleep On swift wings dreams will find me, where in memory, I weep Cigarette burns in the black and white reels of memory Full of filigreed false fragments from the life of which I’m fee I’ve journals full of hash-marked stars, logged and ledger filled Of total I’ve tallied too many to share, Yet the dots still connecting, each story instilled

Passive Ingression 1.22.23 “From Lake to River soon Ocean”

Sea World bedroom Four sizes too small For my heart My outstretched arms Circumnavigate my eggshell world How am I expected to think Outside of The Box I wonder Who lays restless, dormant Reaching end to end Desperate to break free From inside of me The cage is tall Survivor’s eyes do not blink Soon this cage, this wall, this body Will crumble Yes YES I will get out, alive

Passive Ingression 1.11.23 “Co-rviditiy”

Will you commit to a murder with me? Isn’t it said, that birds of a feather Flock together? We shall see How well similarities detract For the remainder, of our time Best spent rising for Shining with you What better view Could I ask for? Than a flock Overhead, free and dark Stark as the night You by my right, ever so briefly touching As colorful as a bruise Never abused, but use to Being losed to, happily conceded Each flight we try to sip Two crows in dip the sky Eager for a couple, to break few Through to the thought of a family I want to make a murder with you Abreast and aloft More than a pinion Playing in the snow But never just us two, In my opinion the view Is better with three pair of eyes Won’t you give me a try Forevermore?

Passive Ingression 1.26.23 “Find Me On Page 43″

Hit me up, trip me up, rip me up too Aftermath counting allies, little to no queue When bloodied ink-pen blotched the last drop What will the storybooks clean-soak with mop? Each white-paged history, bleached and blonde Will past lessons be learned and beyond? Find bits of me scattered upon every page Each line break, white wine break, and stain soaked with age I’ve been written in verses and curses, spelled all the same With books and by crooks all looking to blame Quick quips and tough lips, make for kissing just dust Leave me here dying, I’m trying to rust

Spill me in stories, just a verse here or there Whatever you deem worthy, I’ll accept what is fair Red are the letters, mistakes ill-addressed Pale are the margins, full of notes of what’s best Black is the ink pumping lines through my blood Filing the library, like a biblical flood Better to be divvied up amongst friends and foes Kept in breast pocket beneath a single red rose A name for the ages, remember me please I’ve shortened it for you, to recall quick with ease Hang me out, dry me out, try me out too I’m asking you read, just a word not too few

Passive Ingression 1.23.23 “I Had Trouble In Social Studies”

The world keeps turning I’d consume myself If left alone long enough Each executive-floor thought Stalls, worse than a skipping record Waiting for a pulse to flicker Across the flatline of my membrane The same big bang spark Inside my dendrites More neurons than people on the planet And still find room for stage fright Each night when time to sleep is past And my eyes drift towards an empty bed I imagine myself in it Some days that is enough To just imagine A body without a war But a static-electric box Staple-gunned to the back of my eyelids Eighty inch, HD Flickers between static stereophonic channels Radio waves jockeying for position And the cold embrace of solitude When a walky-talky falls silent on the other end And whose fingers rasp and pry open the door? My own unfocused precision grade accuracy Striking the mark paintless, painlessly Mowing the lawn was never my forte Yet one plucked hair, And what pinpricks for pupils I have Continue to manicure and groom Til’ no hair remains out of line There is no line remaining No forces on either side of the battle Pockmarked across my face Trenches along my arms, hands If this world revolves any faster I won’t know which chamber Holds the one shot I’ve got And I’m always afraid Walking ahead of the parade If I watch my feet I’m sure to never lose my way Only just the rest of me Consumed at each detail That I have been left to Attend two To

Passive Ingression 1.15.23 “A Burning In Our Bones Like Troy”

Achilles, I know you're impervious to peril But each stab of that arrow Each blow that you take, breaks faster upon you It takes more than its toll of your soul And the shield you've discarded Is as hard as your body Blessed by your mother in fear I saw you last night run through Full of love, and I thought This is what mothers do fear When we're pierced to the core Upon home distant shores Where the sand is shells and not stone And the spears, steady strong Held aloft prepared for wrong But is used upon you all the same Debased on your knees But a smile did I see Through the sweat and the salt and blonde sand It's the same look you  give With chagrin when we win But you drink from the fountain of man He who knows not to yield Is prostrated I see now your spirit Unbent and unbroken Achilles you needn't not heal but will heel to the commonmost man Is this where the power, the confidence sits For each arrow, each spear, each forked tongue As they poke and they prod ‘Neath the god’saken sun Pulled along by a chariot you'd ride When the rest of us hide behind walls Made of flesh of just men Metal bent and unwell Were all battered and broken the same Our spirits unyielding but our hearts Are all wielding the weapons of our foes aflame Run us through and we're through Though our moments were few Now I see why you live life this way When the wrestling wars come to shuffling ends And the armies cry out for their king With an ear whispered word and a groan of your name I have heard you call for others the same That spirit we hear it, crackling in flame Where our bodies are burnt, send us far from this plane

Passive Ingression 1.6.23 “The Owl House”

Sweet light, bright light Burning sight in dark of night Full of wonder, warm and bright How soft you rest in palm of hand Of you I make just one demand To me, be soft at my command Oh light, bright light, so shed my fire far I know you burn, you scar I love you so, my guiding star

Shine bright, warm light for me The dark is cold and long yet to be

Passive Ingression 1.24.23 “Condemnation? Contemplation?”

I grew up a catholic boy scout outside of Chicago In the 90s and early 2000s Like lemmings, we were Falsely accused of following When off-camera With a threat and a heavy hand Chased us to the edge Like a burning building nine, No, eleven stories high We jumped For a gentler grace Than the smoke of our surroundings Crack, crack! In the night Maybe we’ll make a beautiful body At the end of our beautiful life But on my honor, I will do my best Should I rise, before the wake I fear their souls are mine to take For after father, and the son I am the ghost, most holy With chit and fire and knots I’ll set My life, my star, my spangled eagle talons And do my best To do my duty