SandCastle'

                         I.

All the Pleasures previously Known—
  All but Lies!—and Overgrown
With Toxic Weeds, Invasive Vines—
  Castles built with Stolen Time.
                        ~
And all the Laughter, shared and Shed
  Upon the Streets while Blindly Led
By Sick Illusions,—Nightmares turned
  From Fantasies, Forever yearned
                        ~
By Hearts which guide the Trembling Hand
  That holds the Dream in stark Demand—
Now Drowned & Sunken, its Mem'ry Fades—
  Mere Smoldering Whispers as we Age.

                        II.

Who would've thought?!–who could've Known?!
  That Castles Crumble, built of Stone?—
That Time runs out, no matter what?—
  That what we Found was never Sought?—
                        ~
That all we Want, is somehow Free?
  While we've gone Missing, in Fantasy?—
Escaping the Weight,—the Consequences,
  Robbing ourselves, and Burning our Bridges.
                        ~
Now all the Pleasures previously Known—
  Buried Alive, not a single Headstone—
What is there Now, but constant Longing
  For things Familiar and not so Foreign?
                        ~
Whom I to Be, now that I'm Searching—
  Blank as a Page at the Beginning of Eternity?
From where will Laughter and Pleasures Arise?—
  From an Ocean of Meaning?—or another's Eyes?
                        ~
Patiently I'll wait, and Dive Within—
  This Abyss now Silent and Violent as Sin—
With newfound Hope, ready finally for
  A Time which I'll not need Steal no more.
                        ~
And when did I finally, Define what is You?—
  When Lightning Struck? When I finally Knew?
Or when Death and Darkness Pummeled the Shore
  And Knocked, so softly, on my, Castle Door?

                
                                                     December 12th, 2018
                                                   Rehab, St. Augustine, FL
           

            Sustain

"Four chords and six strings
are enough to rock the World
but who sees slowly, mountains moving
across that stale Horizon?"

               ~
Empty are the Hands
that play the saddest Chords
and Broken are the Hearts
that wrote them—

Full is the Glass
that tips and spills
Breaking,
upsetting the Silence—

Loud are the sounds
of Echoes and Wind
for they remind us all
of This:

When Excited strings
do finally rest
the stubborn Heart
keeps beating......

                                      st. augustine, fl
                                        october, 2018

----------------------------------

                   Timeless


King Time rules and we're his Fools—
  No use fighting, what would it prove?
Death is imminent,—Love profound!—
  So why not believe in the Underground?
                        ~
A world that exists Beside itself—
  A world Alone, in need of help—
And who are we to question time?—
  That thing that is neither yours nor mine?
                        ~
Helpless we fall right into its Arms—
  Even though long ago it lost its Charm—
Love resides and hides within
  The Chambers of the Now and Then.
                        ~
The Future yells and screams, and cries
  To Time's deaf ears, & blind, blind Eyes—

Oh Underground, Rise!—and Pull me Under—

  It's long been time, to Finally,—Surrender—

                            St. Augustine, Florida
                                  2004–2018~

Alone, in the Dark
                           Christmas 2017,
                                         Malmö, Sweden


The sun hides behind the rain
and the smile, the clock,
as life's tragic decay laughs in the face
holding back its shape.

Speech has become pointless
and speaking, painful—
as nothing and no one is able to keep pace
with our own wonderful chaos.

Aggressively we splash through Reflection
and our Clothes become soiled:
oh the horror of all horrors!:
we can no longer look up! nor out!

Inside we Are,—but wait!—
ah! –there is no waiting—
the clocks tick on
and we must Obey.

Alone, we scheme up a plan
to overthrow,—
in the Dark, we see
the horrific Joke, which is,
...the Human Condition:—

Tick tock tick tock:
and who the hell knew?—
hear the ringing of the bells,
—always on time

Tick tock tick tock:
and who the hell are you?—
count your steps as you walk
for the Park prefers
tiredness, fit for walking.

Alone, a Country crumbles—
the Holiday disrupts—
satellites crash into each other
and there is no way to record.

In the Dark, our ghost sits beside us
and we've turned the world off 

to hold its Hand—
we feed it our last supper
and Intoxicate this last chance.

Inside, it's warm by the fire,
our glass is full & there is much laughter—
but oh!—through the same glass stares
the bane of our existence.

So keep it full! oh keep it full!
with the darkest, strongest wine
for we know not when,
no we know not when
the prison clocks shall break their time.

And notice now!—the skip to your step!
your singing voice unfettered!—
your beating heart has stolen wings
and you, without hesitation, have chosen flight!—

From the air we dream, from above we see!
below, the war carries on unbothered
by our perspective and unwavering,—
it was there all along….
it was there all along.

There shan't be any bashing through the present
to get to the future—no!—
for We are Here, and Here we Are!—
and our own Weight was Nature's first Mistake!—