The Endless Dawn

The Endless Dawn
Behind my eyes,
Lurking beneath every feeling
Hiding behind all form,
Expressed, yet unknown,
Backstage, yet the showrunner,
Endless, yet momentary,
So groovy, so secretive,
Forever unknowable, yet existential
Whisky brings a bit to light,
A little herb shines it more
Some chemical revelation,
Brings it to dawn
Fungal fruition, seems to tickle it
But yet, there it lies,
Unknown, unknowable,
Unseen, unseeable
That nameless miracle,
That is life
That is I.
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Arise! You Wonderchild

Arise! You Wonderchild

The leaves whisper through monsoon’s final mourns,
The last secrets that shall keep us warm for winter
We’ve danced to mindless tunes,
Ached and tormented our little selves, confused
Leaving the best of our poetry to remain unsung,
Confounded struggling for release in the lower corridors

I’ve reconstructed for you a semblance of my new self,
One in which you can be drunk as yourself
Leaving my dry lips to still preach mythology and highness,
Lost ecstasies and faint tragedies of birth and demise
The guitar strings weep to no avail,
To lift our galactic tribe to the higher corridors
Of existence, of dancing, of knowing

I’m unaware of things that have absolute meaning,
Of absolute theories and absolute clarities
I know no absolute secrets or subtle deviations,
That can trick our minds away into awakening
There are no tricks hiding at the edges of galaxies,
There is no awakening of which we can tell

Arise! My glorious tribe, arise in the middle of the moonlight,
Arise! Children of the final rebellion, take my hand
No more suffering and confusion, no more meagerness,
Our astral selves are aching for freedom
We will come dance draped in red sleeves and black sweaters
Arise! My comrades beneath the moon

What better poetry remains to be told,
Than the poetry of nonsense?
Than the songs of endless delirium,
And arrogant nonchalance
Than the verses that stink of easy ignorance,
Pale desire and cheap whisky

At the edge of every song’s melodic note,
There is dancing a playful epiphany,
That feeds on your deepest boiling emotion,
Birthing black clouds of delight and understanding
I see in music simple notes that open doors,
Doors to places neither greater nor higher,
Places simple and new, unbordered, colored

Close your eyes my wonderchild, kiss yourself
I will touch your brow with the sound of my voice,
And stroke your inner hardness,
I will rub it in cotton silk and milk it to understanding
Close your eyes sweet moonchild, hush now,
Drink your whisky, smoke your medicine
The stars descend down upon our rising hearts,
To awaken our oldest fears of dark damnation
To show us ways in which we cannot escape,
But dive, into the deepest of oblivion

Are you hurting? You poor little watered flame,
Let me light you with the voices of the wind,
Let me bring you up to the halls of our fathers,
Where we can reconstruct the past,
To be whatever we want it to be
Arise! Now, sweet wonderchild,
The world awaits our fingers,
To come milk its flowing rivers and hustling trees,
To give the winds of its wisdom,
An eternal author
Who though never lost through all these years of wandering,
Somewhere began to believe so

Arise my wonderchild! This is the end,
Or beginning

Yesterday’s Bones

Yesterday’s Bones

I was stumbling on bricks of bass and synth,
Before I realized that I myself, was sound
A little tone in a symphony magnificent,
Of whose end, or beginning, I’ve never known

I was afraid of lizards, and the rat’s shadow,
As I raced up the stairs, the dark stairs at night
Afraid to make the walk to the nearest cooler,
Afraid that someone dead, was sitting on my couch

I was letting curiosity get in the deeper,
Into the lower chasms that were unguarded
It’s taken me places where space becomes jelly,
Places were time became a real intimidating man

I’m no child, not another innocent darling in astral mode,
I’m no explorer whose out to save the world
To bring psychological tales of tuned magic,
To every pot-smoker tipsy in wonderland

I’ve sold not much after my fears,
Wandered too bravely into my nights
I’ve kept every feeling safe and untouched,
Burning in imprisonment in my veins and marrow

Yesterday is bones, the bones of tragedy,
As yesterday is dead, and the people it made
Tomorrow’s a dream that was dead before conceived,
And now is a perception of reality’s graveyard

She left me her lips, and some of her thighs,
Bits and pieces dangling in my right brain
The many shades on her eyes that gracefully danced,
Are now colors forgotten to rum and time

Companionship burned like a flame in those years,
Each eyelid, each dent that gently livened her lips
Every detail, from the scent of her insides,
To the smell of her hair, caressed my senses

Sensations create the reality of contact,
Each movement in the temples of feeling within me
Every vision defining the boulevards of human drama,
Is from a sight, a little fragrance, a very subtle touch

Without a sense, there is no world
Without taste, no world that appreciates lips
Without eyes, no colors to tickle us at bright noon
Without ears, no song to dance our minds to madness

The world is a world of sensation,
And we in it not as sensors, but senses
We are the senses of the universe,
Its apertures through which to know delight

Those days are gone, those monsoons of knowing
When we lived like gods on our wet balconies
With rum, kisses, laughter, and elation,
Those days of lightness and fractal visions

The rain trickles down forever,
And every word is watered down to emptiness
The monsoon will end, and our dreams will perish,
And the clinking of time will find its solace

Image is the property of,
Georgie Pauwels – Flickr