My day,

My day is not young
my day is not old
my day is not buried beneath the soul.
One day you will find it
and it will speak out to you
"good morning, good noon, good night,"
then explode with flight
ecstatic you'll affix your sight,
whilst dusk brings tidings
and dear day will disapparate,
perhaps to a far corner of some parallel.

Messy fragments scattered
along your weeping smile,
lickable memories for a fond friend
upon distant isles
of the same galactic supermarket.
My day, some day.

Little

All I find are windows.
Little person, little life, see's little of everything.
There is no gold
just spun faerie tales.

Dear Quiet thing

Dear Quiet thing
your slumber is unblushed.

lithe and forbidden
my desires tousle my spines,
dear coffee, dear shower, dear bed
you're not quite as divine.

Breathe catches my tongue
mid-fight,
sober the sombre daylight,
with guilty mane without much to tell.

Dear Quiet thing
your slumber is unblushed,
lace snapped and gnarled
I am heaving mockery
and dust on your little soul.

Our forgetful ballet.

Oh Quiet thing,
oh my quiet things.

Diversity

I was born out of a number,
Faces defining my world,
and I've always been inclined to cumber
the distress I witness at this berth
against the figure.

Yes, the figure that is and is not,
because I have no culture, no heart, nor home.
I am something light tricks to be, an illusion of diversity,
the colour of your teething bone,
the greatest profanity
being humanity,
I am much less-the unfortunate- the unknown.

Words are nothing without your lips,
and spite can't see without some tongue.
So being human cannot reason
without some puncture to the lung.

If there is a God he is not here,
the reliance of invisibility
is one to me
an unintelligibly cowardliness of fear.

You want the air, to take care of what you said was your own will.

You want new souls to suffer for an ancient bill.

You want me to stand and say I am sorry for something I haven't done,

when you're the one,
who is ticking the times tables incorrectly.

Today will be tomorrow and soon after the great past,

If you don't want history
to be seeded in misery
then you should stand out and make it last.

I was born out of a number,
mathematically spiralled into life,
and so far I still find it a struggle
to understand the joy of waking.

To be born is to be alone,
To live is to be surrounded,
To die is to be free,
but for that you must work first.

And I don't barter with this curse,

if there is nothing- I may as well exist a little first.

But what I can't compose is how I see these faces,

where others separate by numbers, words and races,
I only see one in the mirror:

human.

This is my entry for the DVerse Poets Open Link Night (http://dversepoets.com/) Hope you enjoyed reading it if you stumbled upon me, check out some of the other poetry by following this link http://www.blenza.com/linkies/links.php?owner=dversepoets&postid=09Oct2011

The Musics On

Like the common thread we sew

of the ink running through my torso

like the common waves rise

to make the cliff crashing demise

that laps them back to the sea,

You and me,

the worlds biggest profanity

whispering shell oceans

and paint splattered commotions

the artist plays

on the canvas ways

humanity.

As I walk amongst you all

I have a confession.

It's about time and what it meant,
it's about memories and how they are spent,
it's the truth and the truth is
that I am clueless.

And for all these things
tumbling away,
I didn't secure my own mask first...

I don't vaguely remember if either or any of us
were saved,

or if I am here
or if I am there,

I opened the book
and fell defeat
a little oozing animal,
gasping
breathing
living

So sweetly delicate
cast upon me-
this disarray.

An atom

The pockets of the lab coat
spread out the walls
to that one laid
fault,
The room is cream
and the bed brown,
the hair red
as the eyes green.
As far as opposites
the machine's in my heart.

I brought it
to tie it
to creep the darks
and shut the solitude
into one evolutionary
surviving anatomy,
but maybe the fittest fall
for a finer tune.