troubled waters

 death ebbs and flows     with the tides      and seasons       my dreams are wont to do the same          with drowning boys        and bloated sailors       unnatural deaths     in troubled waters     to dream of death is to die a little       perhaps we all die as we dream        in some private nightmare        all on our own

 

isolation

I fashioned myself a tinfoil crown     proof against the inclemency of nature      when gods and sorcerers tamper with my head      I was trying to set things straight      christ knows I tried      with razor blades and sealing wax  to peel back    sixty years of insulation     the features     the faces     the names    stripped away    to reveal the emptiness of self      a million illusions consigned to memory

it’s half past dead in the morning       I’m pall bearer to my dreams        I feel it closing in    the certainty of loss      but loss does not define me       it simply reveals the true me      I count my wounds instead of sheep     every night is a little death     my isolation is a gift of the gods    a test of my endurance     isolation is the currency of  individuality       the sacrifice of my social appendage      in honour of a selfish heart

ripened

most of the time I’m ageless       but mirrors tell no lies      I’m too old now to plead innocence         and too young to know much at all    I have not grown wise     I’ve just become careful   I remember the follies of youth      the sap still rises in my veins     but I’m kinder now    and more patient    though I’m none the wiser    for all the books I’ve devoured       the lips I’ve kissed      and the secrets I’ve hidden behind my eyes    

I look upon the past as if it were a dream      and what a dream it was     that steadied me for the certainty of death    is there dust on my wings?      I have not forgotten how to fly       but fly to where?     surely not back into the comfort of old memories    but forward  where the days pass too swiftly to count        will I be surprised by my maker as I round the next corner?      or shall I simply fade away into the oceans of time?

I don’t screw with my neighbour      or take what isn’t mine     I know the edicts of heaven      and I keep an ear to the ground       I believe the world still talks to me      but as an infant     because I’m not a dead child    I’m a grown one    my mind still burns with delirious ambition      though I am mocked by the passing years     but this is not a lament for the dying     there are no tears in my eyes      for I have savoured life     and I’ll leave it without regret

 

power

sex is power    your sex      your power     take it    shape it    break it      sex is power      as money is power      and violence is power      the object of power is power      and power corrupts     all the way      but any human power        can be defied    because beauty is power     kindness is power         love is power      and your words have power       so measure them carefully      we kill gods with the weight of our words      and anoint new ones to bind us into place    

art has power     become art     make yourself your canvas     resist the power that paints you docile       you’ve been educated       designed      controlled     and objectified      but you can break that power     there’s nothing you desire      that stands against nature    you are an individual      you are power    a force exercised in belief     thought     actions      and words        so speak yourself free      find the language that brings you power        modify your way of being       become a tree of knowledge      amidst competing  powers

commerce

 your jailors send their most convivial regards

they offer you 10% off your next purchase

and to ensure your complete cooperation

remind you that they hold familial hostages

the wheels of commerce turn more smoothly

when a little coercion is applied

besides, your credit rating could be effected

should you fail to comply

it’s a game of cat and mouse

and make no mistake – you are the mouse

so go back to the treadmill - you know the score

you’ll work hard for your living

until you can labour no more…