I know this night, I know its call. Agony wears a harpy's grin to tempt the lungs to drown within. The bedfellow of cortisol; this life raft needs prescription scrawl before we're buried in its skin. I know this night. A panic button protocol shotgunned with cheap raspberry gin. Hope: the very first deadly sin that chokes us all against the wall I know this night.
Just when early fear arrives, famished: feasting on abundant insecurity, hope whispers loudly to break free! Destroy the doubt.
Bent toes cling to the surface that might fall. Do I stand upon the ground or the wall? Swaying in gentle breeze I brace to plummet fast, but land with grace if this dream deems me unworthy. Clouds stream with torrential echoes of doubt that nourish my inner progressions drought. The grip of untrodden steps fails - I wait to land upon the shales But fall upward into the stars. Free floating among the weightless moonlight, I look below with more pleasant hindsight. I was bound in scared appeasement - Now fear suffers a bereavement as I cross into my own light.
Lift me up if I fall drunk on life's alcohol. I stumble, maybe trip, mentally lose my grip. Happy smile; blinding grin between fast sips of gin. Swallowed whole; empty cup. Love, my life: Lift me up.
The day has too few a sunrise to explore But the innumerous colours are counted In ritual along the distant early skyline anyway. Beyond the principle of merely being, There's the principle of endless sight seeing Fluttering on the delicate iridescent wingtip. Although all sights are born of intrinsic good, Reality requires a respite of recuperation So the sprite may realign it's own energies. Wrapped in nature's most pastoral gifts The sprite feasts on the bounty of true justice: Nourished by the fundamentals of harmony So it may be vibrant in passionate expression. Though delicate to the lowly observing eye, The spirit of the sprite is bodaciously hardy, Fearlessly inspired by the very air it breathes: Time had tested itself, and failed to win battle Against the ethereal protector of land and sea.
A beautifully imperfect creation, Mottled in angst and frustration, Capturing stray drops of sunlight To warm you on the colder nights. The open evening air calls you To gain that moment of solitude Between the sediments of thought Lined and calmed in melodies. You don't absorb or reflect When bathing in the day's light, But refract polychromatic splendour Through your fused shrapnel. Each playing piece considered and Placed within the web of fragments Builds a mosaic of endurance: A tenacious testament of truth, Boldly embraced through fractures And acknowledged reality splinters. The weathered debris of survival Formed you a formidable warrior Encased in your own clast armour: Sharply witted within awareness, Yet dynamically poised, prepared For metamorphic elevation.
This margarita Drank at a dozen a dime, Uses island lime
All the far places That the heart wishes to be Come with a price tag
I stood on a boat On an ocean oh so blue, Missing only you
I long for a break, End the mundane daily grind Just for a moment
Slam Walk away Don't look back
Locked Turned key Safe as houses
Opportunity Once Presented But turned away
Chapters Eventually close On our past
Gently Grasped handles Pull to frame
Dew swept wind hills of May morning Captured moments in sprinkled droplets That begged passers by to be collected. We knew to wait another hour or two Before stepping into their damp tracks Lest we become entranced by their tales. Humanity bled memories into the valleys. Tiny beetles feasted in the chaotic morning, Their shells glittered in the gloss of droplets. When the night's trouble was collected They'd disguise themselves in a minute or two Before the songbirds could recite hunting tracks. It was finally safe to leave our sacred cover. Humanity bled memories into the valleys Through the corpses of their fallen brothers. The glorious warmth of a sunny morning Reflected in our eyes like twinkling droplets Of youthful hope. It was our courage collected, Shared and displayed between only us two, That we may complete our pilgrimage together No matter the troubled ground we may cover. Humanity bled memories into the valleys Through the corpses of their fallen brothers. So few survived when kin killed beloved kin. A journey of miles, trudged through a morning. Stepping rhythmic, drenched in sweated droplets And woefully feigning we were calm and collected. Fear was painted behind our mission worn mask As we checked the mapped route together, Arguing the shorter path as we replaced it's cover. Humanity bled memories into the valleys Through the corpses of their fallen brothers. So few survived when kin killed beloved kin, Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity. Legs aching from the endless walking morning, Bodies craving sustenance, but surviving on droplets Tipped from the final flask of water, and of hope. You snatched the final sip, cracking under your mask. It seemed we'd outlasted our journey together, Our separateness apparently hidden under cover. Humanity bled memories into the valleys Through the corpses of their fallen brothers. So few survived when kin killed beloved kin, Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity: Those who fought for the beauty within us all. We parted with the last seconds of the morning, Silently wishing the other would reconsider. Survival now was only built on an anchor of hope That outlived the violence and psychological masks. Hope, that final chant uniting the distant together In a melody no imposter was able to falsely cover. For humanity bled memories into the valleys Through the corpses of their fallen brothers. So few survived when kin killed beloved kin, Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity. Those who fought for the beauty within us all Are anchored beacons of hope in dirty waters.
We Got matching Tattoos And we laughed when they sketched them. The needles buzzed, But we didn't pay them any mind, We merely enjoyed their sensations. When the guns were pulled back Our hearts had matching hourglasses, But yours was half empty, And mine almost full. We assumed an artistic difference Nothing more And delighted gleefully, Content being forever linked. I didn't see that last grain, But it fell faster than mine.
The Poet Armistead 