Constructing A Poem

There are words dancing in my mind tonight.
The sky composes a waltz that only I can hear,
And thunders with a will to burst open.
We breathe together
And watch as ideas fall and disappear
Like motes of dust beyond the oblivion contained
In a sunbeam.
When I shiver from the inability to see through the dusty panes of my heart’s extent
I do
See that the world is ending somewhere tonight.

My friend rolls all his sorrow
and smokes it with tobacco
Under the night sky they painted over a billboard.
He is bored, so he lets his mind wander
And wonder
if he will be able to count the lights in the windows while he’s falling.
There are twenty seven storeys,
Stacked on top of each other:
Tin cans that rattle
with the emptiness of lives that clink at the bottom
Like small change.

My friend wanted to change the world.
His eyes were set with stars named after every
Child who did not learn to smile:
He went to the beach as one and fell in love with foam,
But try as he might to cup it in his hands
It became the sea and flowed away,
Wanting to be one with its kind.
He now tells himself that his depression had a mother
Who never picked up its calls
And figure skated on the edge of his consciousness
Waiting for the ice to thin.

My friend wanted to win
The confidence of his own heart
To be the voice that fills up the entire room
And leaves no place to sit.

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Paint

[ This piece was written for, and has previously been published by, The Infinity Of Mind ]

 I feel small, sprawled 

On the floor

Eyes low and unfixed:

Eyes watering, vision 

watered-down 

like a mixing jar for paints;

Like a desert waiting for the rain,

Unfulfilled 

(Overdue)

A hundred years may have passed 

Like this. 

Everything I see twinkles

Because I rub my tired eyes 

Because of the brashness of 

Reality

Because beauty 

Is grainy to the touch:

My head is spinning in a waltz

And I 

Can smell the colours

On my brush as it once touched your face 

On a canvas 

Embroidered with your name;

I wish I could see it

Trace the letters with a glance 

Or two

(Three syllables)

They had me undone

(I want to unlearn)

The feeling of them 

rolling off my tongue:

Can I?

Should I?

Will you

Lift me off the floor 

Paint tears on my neck 

Of cobalt blue 

Before you 

Pour thick wine over me 

And press a painting knife to my back?

I know you

draw me with my

Cheek against the hardwood 

As I listen 

To the sound of your feet 

To the sounds of the world beneath –

I hear you breathe 

And smell your colours again

Fading 

Faint 

(Blood, salt and ecstacy):

Does my image plead 

And cry –

Are your eyes 

as unfocused 

as I?

Do you listen 

As the desert wasteland speaks:

Don’t throw me down 

To the floor again 

It’s all that I 

Can see.