Claustrophobia
Cold still air, darkness
Stalactites oozing ice-blood
A thousand bats watch
Cold still air, darkness
Stalactites oozing ice-blood
A thousand bats watch
I wrote this originally at the beginning of August, when I was having a hard time with inspiration. I couldn't find anything worth writing about in my head and I almost stopped.
Read MoreTo know an artist as an artist is to gain
a fuller understanding of their art.
Their titles and pictures and lyrics pop
and common themes become clear.
I know whether you’re sad or not
Or even if you’re sad a lot.
True knowledge sprouts from
the soil of experience.
We wear the same shoes to uncover
our own broken earth
in our own fields,
yet we still bear the same fruits.
In moments of Christmas tree faces
with exclamations of “same!”
I know under your garlands and ornaments
we’ve both played a similar game.
As one artist to another, I know.
I see what you hide in plain hearing.
That which the naked ear sees a sad piece,
I know what really lies beneath.
Fears and worries and questions
sit softly on my brain,
growing heavier
with each passing day
until they sink inside,
and think they run the show.
I, of suitable self assurance
should see these sick beings,
but their weight is their disguise.
I often find myself under
their control, unable to see
the snares I’m in.
Reason is no help.
You can’t out-think a hole.
You can only avoid it next time…
and my foresight shall grow
stronger, but for now,
send down a ladder
Let the wind carry us
To far places,
exotic and new
where we see our
reflections in the
Great Shimmering Pool.
Where the white
belly of the world
sifts through our toes
and our worries
are swept away with
each passing wave.
Where the deep indigo
of night covers us
with a blanket of soft
white stars
and the moons smile
upon our canvas
carnival across the
Seven and the Four.
The storms will not shake us
because we are never alone.
The bus pulled up to the station, and they got on. It was ten minutes to their stop. They were silent the whole time.
Read MoreThe long road ahead
Stretches farther than I can see
Deserted on red rocks
Doomed to a Promethean fate
Of perpetual heartbreak
It follows me, a great eagle
Tearing my liver
Inside I turn to stone
To escape this loneliness
No one trusts the stranger
Man in black,
With wide brimmed hat
Fearing unknown danger
Side-eye’d with no end in sight
He enters, intent to disrupt
Your peace
To find his own
That’s always the business
A contract killer
Far from home
With his horse
And an air of mystery
Cursed to wander
And never find home
A pariah dying of thirst
The novella. The classic story that’s not quite long enough to be a full novel, but not quite short enough to be a short story. The middle child of literary works.
Read MoreIt came in sudden fits and throes
Warm sun stays around longer now
To melt and rid us of the snows
Revealing last year’s matted grasses
Chickadees flit with grass in beak
Chirping sweetly in the trees
Building their nest and home all week
To bring new life forth in cycle
Passers-by pass by down the street
Fresh air pulling us from hibernation
Out to remember its smells so sweet
Natural curiosity our curious nature
Grand Maples sprouting their buds
Shielding the fat robins, full from worms,
Shading me from the warm sun above
And filling me with sublime tranquility
What is it about you
That drives me so crazy?
My heart knows
You wouldn’t hurt me
But my head
Has a silver tongue
Its whispers tell me of thirst
And I suddenly thirst
Unquenchable and ravenous
I dig deeper
Through my muddy memories
Wanting for confirmation water
To pour over my head
To fill me up with His Holy Promises
I’m not mistaken
But
The heart is the
True Knower Of Things
With its quiet voice
It cries from a distance
And is lost in the noise
Or mistrusted for the head’s
Misleading whispers
But it must be heard
Because it keeps the ground
At my feet
And forces risks on me
To take them
Is to live well
And to dismiss them
Is to become slave
To the whispers.
I'm currently writing a novella called A Man Named Eustace. It's about a cowboy named Callum Bane who is on a quest to find a woman's husband. Here is the rough draft of chapter 1.
Read MoreThe mundanity of routine
Like the smell of coffee
Is a reliable friend
The cyclic building of my visage
I am the sculptor and the stone
Pain and repetition yield beauty
In fine detail
Materials are infinite
Time is finite
Its silken flow drifts
Wrapping me in a moment
Staring and reliving
Bound in feelings of eternity
And the illusion fades
And I have not moved
And I have lost time
And accomplished nothing
I take up my tools to begin again
In cracked and bleeding, broken hands
I drive the hammer to chisel hard
It hurts, but it’s its own reward
One day I can lay them down
And gaze upon the seeds sown
From nothing to a source of pride
Through sweat, blood, tears cried
It’s not perfect
But to fall in love
With the process
Makes it worthwhile
An hour between stops
Minimum.
Doesn’t matter your origin
Or your destination.
I didn’t stop for food
Before stepping out
Into the morning light
The world unknown
I board and sit alone at the back
And read the news
Posted familiarly
Your album came out last night
I was at your show
It was amazing as always
And now you’re famous
Grinding as always
Deserving of your success
I’m not salty for that
“But I could melt glaciers
And ruin oceans
With the Death Valley
Utah Salt Lake City
Jealousy I own”
The voice has woken up in me.
“I published a book
and this
and that
and
and
and”
It rattles on
Accomplishments
I’m privately proud of
But tell no one
Because why should I?
My stomach groans
In protest of that voice
The sleepy city flies by between stops
I debate getting off to search
For satisfaction
But I stay the whole way,
Punishing myself
For allowing my own acidic rain
And I ride for hours
On the bus, hungry.
Lead vest, heavy friend;
Arms tight to my broken sides
Lower than before
You showed me real love
I digested, gave you none
And you kept giving
Broken brain broke us
I wish to apologize
But you have moved on
Spreading arms out wide
Heart empty
Wanting for your warmth
In my 1986 Ferrari 308
Cruising along Venice Beach
Pink sunset, orange highlights
I’m high on you and
These California trees
Hazed out, sipping champagne
You couldn’t care,
You’re here because I asked
Decked out in white
Brand name
Obviously
You’re beautiful
As the scene around us
You don’t even try
The sand in our toes
Sun is setting
Wine brought out
Your face is illuminated
By your rose gold phone
Back to the car, we fly to the hills
Change
Go to some guy’s place
He’s your friend,
Got himself a spot in the hills too
Bigger, nicer than mine.
Nowhere to be found now
Naked girls in the pool
I don’t stare too long
All I see is you anyway
A hand on my arm,
You’ve appeared, alone
I’m surprised, which surprises you
“I’m fine,
Might turn in, can you get a ride?”
I swear I catch a slight frown on you
Do you want me to stay?
I wasn’t even invited
You produce a blunt
From your small purse-thing
We smoke, staring off the balcony
I’m on the moon,
Staring at L.A.
A rapper hoovers a line
Off a butcher’s knife
Your hand on my shoulder
I wonder, is this fracture
All in my head?
Because it seems so real
You’re gone and I’m doubting again.
Reappearing with a guy I should totally meet
I’m so numb I bump fists
Secretly been inhaling
Ketamine all night
His app is doing well
Or something
I’m not listening
I’m fantasizing
About falling down
These cliffs.
The Martian soldiers readied their weapons but the super-soldier didn’t move. One of the Martians started firing at the super-soldier which recoiled when the shots started hitting it. The plasma rays tore open its skin sending black globules of chitinous filament glittering out behind it. The super-soldier’s flesh closed around the wound almost as quickly as it was created.
Read MoreI never knew my unhappiness.
It felt like a stiff neck.
Replaying old tapes
Showed me just
How far I’d fallen.
Hearing myself on loop
Writing the same things
Truly seeing, for the first time
With newborn’s eyes
That I was stuck
And am now free
Wow.
Birds are singing
Spring is here
Buoyantly bouncing
And giving chase to new ideas
I am a Phoenix
Risen from my old ashes
And I’m taking flight
Majestically.
“Shit, Darius, I think something just shot torpedoes at us."
Read MoreCallum didn’t like being tied up. Not even for fun. He didn’t like small spaces. He didn’t like being without his gun. All of those things occurred at the same time as Deke, Darrell, and their bearded boss tied Bane and John together in John’s small cabin. They searched through John’s things, and after deciding not to kill John purely for not having a lot of money, they left.
Read More“A man who chases two rabbits
Catches none,” is how the proverb goes.
I chased one rabbit
And stopped to chase another
So the first came back
To chase me.
I caught the second
And the first caught me,
So here I was
Clearing one trap
While ensnared in another.
The second rabbit turned
Anger in its eyes,
It morphed,
Transformed,
Mutated,
Into a monster of considerable size
The first one, I’d seen its fangs
For I’d hunted it for years
But those piercing teeth
Bared down on me
And ripped me to pieces
How dare I give up my first chase
For a simpler meal
I’d simply grown so hungry
I didn’t care how I’d feel
Both rabbits turned and ate me alive
While I was frozen, trapped
I had nothing to show for my hunt
Except the tear tracks I had left
Picked clean from tip to toe
There was nothing left of me
But the first rabbit came back
Saddened by my pain
I, the failed hunter
Was sacrificed and slain
But this first elusive beauty
Came back to console me
Defences down, it fell right in
To my final hidden trap.