watch in wonder, splendor, and rage
rearranging pictures, photos, and signs
carting back the pieces left broken
looking for repair tearing through the atmosphere
riding high like a diamond in the sky
near dark shadows gleam burning inside the cracks
memory’s collide intercepting and searing minds
saddle up and run for the hills
riding heavy on the live wire to a fortune
never belonging to me battered & bruised,
busted & banged up still got his head up
always a watchful eye to society’s grasp
giving all back to the maker of it all
anything else would be but fools gold
the darkest shade has filled my fractal heart -
a mystery of something so abstract
it is yours, and so you claim; i am marked
.
instead of held to ransom, i am marred.
worth less as hostage than a soul extract,
the darkest shade has filled my fractal heart.
.
the shadows reign amongst my weary guard
gathered on the battlefield… attacked.
it is yours, and so you claim; i am marked.
.
with the passing of the days, i gain art -
become more art than fact; an artefact
the darkest shade as filled; my fractal heart…
.
i wonder if you know you played a part
in fracturing my whole until it cracked.
it is yours, and so you claim; i am marked.
.
my soul has always shimmered well of dark,
and since i never let the light refract
the darkest shade has filled my fractal heart.
it is yours, and so you claim; i am marked.
Seasons
I always felt like nothing I ever did was what I could do. I wasn’t lucky enough to be born in liberation or freeing circumstances. Choice was never in my vocabulary. And I could be angry at the world and my existence. I was. For a long time. But Ive come to understand that people who walk this earth come and go just like seasons do. And then I thought maybe it just isn’t my season. Maybe I was made to feel rain. And centuries from now, I might feel the sun and make a memory of pain.
-v.v.
Imagine being the first human to walk out of Africa
as the ice age pulled away like a giant crab slowly
backing up from the rising sun, unfathomable snows
that have lingered for generations finally melting
to reveal green highways of land pockmarked with
glacial remnants, the residual reminders of endless
night, and you grab your sack, a sturdy staff, family,
food, and head North along a sunny bluff, hugging
the sea, into lands untrammeled where only giants
dare to walk, exploring freshly excavated caves and
newly minted forests, and you manage to cross half
a continent before arthritis and fever tear you down,
but your children and your grandchildren make it to
the Middle East, then continue, and their descendants
continue along the southern coast until they discover
the jungles of Southeast Asia, and their many children
make it all the way to Kamchatka, leaving thousands
of people along the way like seeds spread before the
hand of some benevolent creator, and one day, those
hardy few cross the Bering Strait, a low finger of land
that seems to stretch forever into a wild sea sometimes
buried beneath acres of water, but every so often, the
land opens, and you take a stab into the body of ocean
and make it to the other side, and their descendants
march South, and ten thousand years later, they make
it to Patagonia, and the world ends, so they take a break,
have a drink, and some guy says, Damn, now where the
hell do we go? Shit, I ain’t going all the way back, says
his tired wife, That’s a long walk. So they build a house
and start herding llamas, and that’s the end of the story.
I wear the wolf’s head
around my neck,
its bronze jaws
biting at the chain.
Thor’s hammer,
but it is also a cross—
both the old god
and the new messiah.
Thus I offend both parties
equally.
light it up
then
lick your finger
smile wide–rise
& shine like the sun
bought you breakfast
Sometimes it’s hard
to distinguish
the road ahead
and the road behind
when we’ve been living
in an endless loop.
Time goes slow,
time is racing,
time seems to stop.
Where are we in
this circle of chaos?
I am too often
Overcome by the urge to runaway
Even when I’ve found peace, there are plenty of reasons not to stay
I don’t mean to be and I don’t understand why,
I am so frightened to be calm
So panicked to stay alive
I never understood what I was running from
Better yet, what I was running to.
All I know is what I seek I can’t allow myself to find in you
I refuse to be crippled and need love as my crutch
Too often and too expected it has shown to never be enough
Even still, it cannot make sense
That I am running to and yet from myself
But all I know is I can’t be here and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“I am in love with all their parts.
Their hands, their eyes, their hair.
I stare at them sleeping in the morning light and the sun shine its rays on our pillows, filling the space between their lips and mine as if to say ‘I too would partake of this love’.”