Writings and compositions; the dream of better worlds.

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Poetry: The Alone, The New Crisis, The Quest, The Reason

Poetry: The Alone, The New Crisis, The Quest, The Reason

Matches this artwork.

A hurdle like a macchiato firestorm
A face like a broken mountain;
A river like a slash through the land;
A breeze blows and I'm not listening;
A bird cries and I'm watching.

A pouring in the ears a rush of blood to the hands hanging swinging mimicking the motions of jumping. An azure sky. A golden heaven. A darkening earth, silver soil.

THIS IS THE ALONE; no truer loan then expiry of a borrowed loan, discredited creditless creditor casts a small shadow on the side of this craggy peak. And so there's a word to speak; a memory sweet and a outlook so bleak.

I'm upright, the world aswirl ahead, the mountain 'hind.
    Looming at my back.

A heart like a thousand pound weight;
A history like a battleship anchor:
An ocean like tears, salty, endless, wide;
A hollow echo and I'm not listening,
A whale sounds and there I'm swimming.

Swimdeep, swimgood, swimfine, swimmood; diving down dalliances deep and desperate. A murky depth. White crested wave. A lightening line of the horizon blooming the sun.

THIS IS THE NEW CRISIS. No hurdle like the one you build yourself, not wall like the one around one's heart; no way through these shifting marine peaks.

A bottomless depth, a sonorous death, a slow forgetting of all the ones. I'm swimming here; the green expanse of sea and salt. Naught but the heavens above.
    Watching my swimming form.

A bend in the road like pain itself;
A kiss like a goodbye;
A steel plate of misty haze;
The sign says stop so I go; The highway beckons so I'm speeding.

This machine roars and I'm alive riding darkness powerful away toward more forks in the road. A crossroad empty. A train track rusty. A starry expanse constant.

THIS IS THE QUEST; no seeker of truth found with no move; even journeys of stillness were journeys into still into stillness. Ten thousand miles.

Practice noble action, purge weak thought. If no-one fought, we'd be at peace. It's up to me. It's always been.
    The stars were always my friends.

A twinned growth like entangled trees;
A curve of the willow bough
A smile, breath like summer's vow;
She speaks and I'm caught. I'm listening. I'm here.

A melody soars once the drums have clashed. And you're here now, I'm home in your arms. Feminine breath. Orchid-wreathed crown. Gentle, curving breasts.

THIS IS THE REASONA skill to live by, an art to live for; the someone to share it with. For this I pledge my all. There was never another, there never will be. I climbed, I swam, I drove for this. You've come wandering, searching, seeking on your own journey. We've arrived at each other.
   Let's stay.

Strawberry Swing Redux

Prose: It's back - musings on writer's block