Disquiet

Sparks igniting half-muttered questions,
Inescapable in their urgency to speak.
Curious shades of hesitant blue and abstract green,
The tedious search for answers at the peak.

A certain walk of withering will,
The lone certitude of blank adversity.
Fall of the noble oceans,
Over edges, boundaries, and myopic corners.

The mirthless urge to perform, create, kill.
The rage of the savage fire.
The caged voices sing as they die out,
Drowning in their overwhelming sorrow.

Ridiculous, the veil of material normalcy,
I look beyond a life measured in coffee spoons,
Not knowing,
What I seek is what I do not know.

Tempest

I existed
Just about.
A wisp of starving air
Almost
Not there.

Taking care,
To recede into the background.
To drown like the ebbing sun,
Into the unknown horizon.

Suddenly a hand,
Tugging at my soul.
Seeking my live breath.
Shining light.

Flame in the dark,
Distant nebulae,
Adrift wanderer,
Chase,
Chase after the falling leaf.
 

Night

The weekend night burns,
In memory of an old waiting.
The ringing onomatopoeia of a hammering heart,
A stirring song of a knock from the past.

The potent intoxication of unbidden expression.
Proximate, unlimited, in its intimate immediacy.
Your soft smile reserved for the wordless moments,
Forging a parallel story of sweet sundries.

Delightful in their melange of little nothings,
A pastiche that weaves together a memoir worth everything.
Somehow all this tastes of meaningful contentment.
A gratifying taste my palette has never met so far.

Tonight I could write the finest poem,
Or achieve the highest merit of excellence.
And yet I would trade it all,
For a quiet walk with you, in all its prosaic mundanity.

And so this cold night burns on,
Weighed down by one muted breath after another. 
The slow dance of the lamp plays on,
As thoughts of you wash over my heart.

Name

Drowning in the permeating apparition,
Throbbing vitality,
Incumbent life of flesh.
Show me your face.

Search beyond the fire and brimstone of empty spaces. 
Eyes that speak of raging storms,
Battering my curious mind,
Lost land of old secrets and forgotten forests.

Shifting memory darkening the afternoon,
Silence of retrospective hunger.
Echoing through my pages - two ceaseless syllables.
The beginning and the end, the circle of your name.

Addiction

The not knowing,
The waiting,
The indecision,
The menace of endings.

Yet I cross over to the other shore,
Despite the fear.
The burden of impending addiction,
Weighing down upon my feeble consciousness.

The lure of hope,
Leads me like a moth to a flame,
Inevitably towards the disastrous fire,
Towards the joyous perishing at your indifference.

Ghost

In the empty spaces
Between the fingers,
In the tiny air bubble
In the water bottle,
I see you.

The buttonhole
Closes up in the memory of your touch.
Fill in my blanks.
Fold the edges of yourself around me.

The presence of your absence.
Ocean without water.
 

Communication

Channels of meticulous thought
Traced through the device of hermetic jargon.
Ideas imported into the atmosphere,
An esoteric schema of expression.

The speaker withdrawing into irrelevance,
In importance receding.
Yet personal subjectivity not entirely forfeited,
Further enhanced in detached obscurity.

Amidst the linguistic distraction of semantics,
The struggle to not abandon reason and rationale.
The disputable liability of the anonymous tongue.
The undefined being and self of language.