Friday, September 9, 2016

The 9th of the 9th

picture source:

the feeling weightless laughter imparts,
awakening a hunger from a long time ago,
only to be taken, yanked away and trapped
in an abandoned landscape, in a constant storm.

      North, the yellowing pages of history,
neglected fields of wheat feeding hazy skies
a permanent false dusk with its aging light.
Here the air has no substance, no depth,
it is hot, flat, heavy, without an echo,
muting sounds and stealing the colour,
it has nothing left to give, now it takes.

      South… in the south I walked in a wilderness
wet with green forests, moss and waterfalls.
Rolling waves washed through my emotions,
salty air met salty tears gathering in my eyes,
the sweet blue air restored life to my dying soul,
filling it with desire, promise, love, music, dance.
And birth.

      Spend a day with me, feel what I feel in this paradise,
tell me if you can feel it too.  Does it rouse your emotions,
make you want to lay down the reigns, cease judgement,
just be and let be, taking delight in absurdity, in frivolity,
not a thought to what may be said and seen.

     If you see what I see, you will know what is killing me,
if you don’t, I shall gently retreat.


  1. I feel you, but I have really performed 147 funerals...
    Well done in this

  2. Reminds me of a cockatoo parrot I mt in a pet store ... he came over to sit on ma shoulder with no particular invitation to do so ... but was really cute, when he looked me right in the eye and said: You okay? Sweet! Awesome poem, friend Shadow. Love, cat.

  3. Wake each day to dying. Walk the compass North to South find life, only the return journey bring me back to dying. I wouldn't mind dancing and swimming naked under the sun.

  4. Traveling. Experiencing spring after winter. Always wanting more.