Analog Life.

Why is it every time I try to bring these silly things back, no one else seems interested?
Someone feel like dusting off some analog hard copy?  Maybe 200 characters with out a break, 250?  What would you say?
How would you feel if you had to wait a week to hear me?  Would you wait?  Would you care?
Maybe soon, when my silly new website is up, you may care.

Cross Hatch Skies.

Angels tracks.

Soft roar of evermore, a growling underscore.
Understated ascendancy; clear and painful dependency.
Precarious in standing, outstretched their handing.
Always watching, never subsiding, sometimes dancing, quiet abiding.
Eyes inclined, hearts and minds.  Delirious nights, imagined flights.
Angels wings and wispy things.  Clear blue skies and heartbeat sings.
Willows in a wish; wisp in a moon.  Be still and ready, I'll be their soon.

Found

Green dreams are the color of my pain, white the color of it's silence.  But it's only a shadow, there is no lost space in these colors, only dreams of floating sands.  Wishing for the torrent to reverse it's perverse flow.  To care so much, to feel the beat of the drums again, that is what I miss.  The obsession.
It is known, time is a wheel.  It is said, sleep when your dead.  Found.  What happens when your found?  What place is there in the After?  Ka is a wheel, it is known.  So what does Roland, last knight of gilead get after the tower is found?  Could he lay down his fathers guns and take up the hoe?  Sell leaf, nod and smile "yes, say thank ya'"  Would those hands, those killers hands, those slinger hands, ever be good for anything else?  How could he ever reach the top?
Ka is a wheel; both my nightmare and my comfort.  I am a seeker, but now I've found.  We all know what the next turn has for me.  Hunting the hunt.  I just need a new horizon to yearn for, a new god at my back.

Summer Sickness

Pissin' away another day in paradise. What ever happened to growing up? It is surly expected of me, and yet I feel like I'm going backwards. Summer sickness. Coming chill creeping over me, will I notice the falling? Will the cold snap snap me out of this cruse? I hope so. We have some time. All I can talk about is the cold and its still scorched earth outside; roasted emerald days.

Now the pain starts and still it doesn't stop. The oil burns lower, drip drop. Drip drop.

And yet, and yet... Complacency is just a word. There is something here, a quietness in the mind, a stillness in the heart. Paradise, sans beaches and paper drink accoutrements. Waiting, again and always and forever. A sleepy time, a time for quiet and selfishness. Soon the sun will lift from the horizon, and it will be a time of activity. But a wise man can find himself in either. I just wonder if I am wise.

Maybe so.

Not for me. Not for me... Not for me.

Sadness. Sadness.

Why does it have to be like that? At least its not as bad as all that.

No Turns

The Knight unfound is lost amid faces sunk into our ground.

Show me, hear me, I beg, I plea. May I stay, dare I flee?

Will I show you, will you see? You’re here, after all. Come to see my fall?

Guide my heart, little star. Show me now, is it far?

Where do roads go past this scar?

Roar of days ancient fire twist ‘round my finger, twisting mire.

Will I show you, will you see? The knight unfound, with sleeping bee.

No matter the path I take from here, all is peaceful fear.

“No turns, next 50 miles”, no burns, no smiles.

Knifes edge highway, follow your glowing skyway.

No lines to cross, just uncomplicated direction. No bumps or humps, a subtle detection.

Loops with no condition, quiet night’s introspection. Pain’s stealthy blight, black hearts affection.

Forward or onward, a decisions resurrection. Temptation, a courageous heart’s great imperfection.

Take these wanderings, mind disinfection. Born to fly, gravity’s harsh interjection.

If only to hold, this glowing recollection. Fear the fear, this long disconnection.

Above and below, both paths reflection. Do I see, or is this just my predilection?

I am unclear, even my own objection. Guide me along, proper deflection.

Homeless.

I’m not saying I'm happy, because in some ways I'm not.

I'm not saying I'm sad, because really I'm not.

Its complicated. Homeless and fearless. My place was taken out from under me.

I'm just falling. Where did my net go? Here I find someone has been cutting holes in it for years.

Mindless holes, with only a selfish thought. Taking wicked pleasure in ever snip.

Finding your worth like the vampire and the cat. Sucking and feeding, tricking and needing.

Middle ground, sitting down. Maybe the race is over, maybe its just my three leaf clover.

Come quick, little gun. Signal start of all the fun. Let us be, let us run. Let all this mess be done.