Lacertae

Ducks. Snow. Tamed memories.

Little things I remember. 

Your presence. Essence. The place in the world your had. 

Eclipse. Moonshine. 

Pentagram, in a logical place.

Never, ever, even being. 

Your words that saved me. And these little things I do. 

Pain gone. That’s a comfort.

I’m trying. Trying to be worthwhile. 

Desolation the empty. Insidious clouds empty snow. But they are fleeting. 

Worthwhile? What is that to a tiny snowflake? To a duck on the lake waiting out the rain? 

The world, the essence of it, comes from our little bits of time. 

Yours, to breif. 

Endless fog to hide in, endless fog to hide from

Just as confused 

Flowing through my mind

Hiding behind a tree or a bush

My brain drying out like this biting morning 

Peaceful trees to sit on away from home 

Sun and leaves come and go

Hide from myself and everything 

As they all hurt me

Everyone, everything, it all hurts 

Domestic chords and monestic cores

Sometimes I wanted 

Dark, again already 

The bell rings 

Penitent lighthouse

On the coast

I don’t like to boast

Is the most 

Penitent lighthouse to ever fog horned 
I’ve got to tell you

I’m not trying to sell you

I can ring a bell for you

About this lighthouse so adorned 
I’ve crossed many seas

I’ve broken to many a ocean breeze 

I beg you on my knees 

The lighthouse is the sight for captains forlorn 
I’m eating the last

Of the salty crusted bass

And at the tip of the mast 

My lookout shouts for spotting the glalore’n 

Part and marshal

Purple sky darkens 

I cannot apologize for this present marking 

Sealed with my lonely life

Peeled like a bone thife 

Marshal right

Why I’m so cold, distant from plight 

Partly my thoughts, partly my fright 

Scared like I am 

Of all these thing that can and have

Traumatized by their shouts and fights 

Mind anexity going at the speed of light 

Part and marshal, white distance frightful

Will any grass grow in my barren mind?

Salted as it is by hate, cold, hard, fire and brimstone that isn’t even real

It’s my birth of the color 

Caution, doors open outside your head but inside your mind

And mine were shut such a long time ago 

You were the only one who ever opened them 

I hold a card with the moon

Fruit cake. Fresh and ready to age.

Old cirious books. Cold weather.

Guitar heroine, in blond hair.

I hold this card

Little bit of paper

I’m nothing here

I not

Visit you

I’m sorry. 

Hollow now, I stand

The wombat I drew

I’m not even sure it got to you

I couldn’t come

I hold this card with the moon 

And I just can’t stop thinking about 

How I couldn’t visit you 

Tendril islands

Gentle careful aches for touch

Much sense filled to almost brimming

In your kisses I am swimming 

Bring, bring us tendril islands 
Let’s go together 

Lost on our island forever 

Never, ever be anything but us

Oh, flounder and thrust
Tickle, trickles into a caress 

I’m sorry but I might make a mess

Wispering silence as much as you can best

The lick of a breast 
For long our nibbles

Trouble with tribbles

Plays quitely on your TV

I steal a kiss passionately 
Clever girl, your gasping breath says

Tendril of your tounge finds

Sipping your wine, for it’s time 

For partaking of mine 
Tendril islands

Put into motion

Drinking this potion

Lost in my ocean 

Grey and Wet, but giving me life

Trees sitting still in autumn rain

Sometimes, music comes to me 

Pain, goes and sits and watches

It’s just a reminding present 

Of my body’s sore and broken promises 

Past my mistakes and indeed was it fate?

Decided and debating and devised 

In my head it’s always active like a new hive

White is my life, grey woman is my namesake 

But new green, shoots and roots

Grow in my hair

I’m sure they’ll be the new trees ready to stand 

Still in the autumn rain

Rick and brother

1. I’m just as bad as all of the rest

Telling the truth today 

It’s just a featherweight fighting for rate

Getting the bell because it’s used

Stony sand and a beer in a half pint 

Singing with motorcycles blooms 
Chorus:

But I don’t see how

Rick and his brother still love 

It’s all 9 hells and a few more to quell

Just down and down and down and down

2. I’m just as hurt as the man in the pond

Shooting up black opium

Hark the herald devils singing you home

Warehouse spaces left empty

Homeless emotions see the memory

Murder distance from trendil energies 

Arrowheads, falling asleep

Black wheatgrass is the dark blue storm

Sleeping arrowheads longing to morn

Juice of the corpses 

mortuary sorted 

Standing at the camp

Humors, bile and can’t 

It’s hard to see the souls of dead

Trying and waiting bled

Juice of the corpses 

loose faithful mortals 

Black wheatgrass wearing the hailstorm 

A dress from a maelstrom 

A wasted crop for all

Hidden

NB: this is from my personal archive of poetry.

 

Closed inside my mind
I feel so tight
intwined
oversized
in doubt
no one to shout
no one to shudder
chartered and begotten
I want to belong
I don’t feel a part
Of this life
anymore

It’s not me
It’s not me
To feel this way I am so unfree
To feel this way I am so unfree
Make me whole

shadows you cast
the darkness is sort
the blackness of nought
the shades of shimmered shame
I shielded by my own innocence
my exposure is a discourse
a thinking sin-course
I no longer can stand it
I want no more part of it
I have to be free from it

It’s not me
It’s not me
To feel this way I am so unfree
To feel this way I am so unfree
Make me whole

moonrise
moonrise
moon shall rise tonight

moonset
moonset
moon shall set tonight

and in the darkness
just before dawn
there is a human
whose thoughts are lost and forlorn
whose night did not pass
whose name is known
was a mighty warrior shot down in the gloom

It’s not me
It’s not me
To feel this way I am so unfree
To feel this way I am so unfree
Make me whole

I need to express myself
I need to be free
I feel no longer this way about me

Take me home
Take me out
Take me to my love
Or just shoot me then shout

Let me make
My own mistakes
shelter me no more
from the world of the beef stake
the slaves who make shoes
the payers of rules
the knights who say ni
the seamless cloth
approach to management
the philosophy of dais

deus ex mechana
nullus anxitas
nill combustomus pro fumo

Closed inside my mind
I feel so tight
intwined
oversized
in doubt
no one to shout
no one to shudder
chartered and begotten
I want to belong
I don’t feel a part
Of this life
anymore

I am no longer hidden