stonepoem : 365

This white flame burns
all bad things,
turns mourning into dust
moves morning into dusk
lingers long like lovers
after lust.
Between head and heart
ancient in my breast
there is a fire -
white glow burning
sending powder-ash
sad things tinder-piled
bad things turning
cinder riled.
White flame burns
and everything must go
even things I am scared to know
even thoughts I dare not show -
now I’ll raise a weary hurting throw,
stack all ills of life and set alight
upon this white flame pyre.

And down came rusty stars
raising arms for all to shine
and low we dressed our frownfolk scars
chasing psalms and twisting twine (again)
with dreams but not quite ours
we carry ladders into night
pine the scent of cosmic wine
and then, we smoothly rise
like ancient sparks
like hilltop fire
and now, like cinder’s climb
inclined from pine to sky
we fly above
this awkward,
paradigm.

A man
needs a shed
takes the clutter
from his head
lays it down
on musty beds
tight against the edge
stained but only
partial red
a man
needs a shed
it takes away
his heart of lead
a place to dwell until
the world is pure
and nearly
bled
with creosote
and sodden pine
with scattered pins
on earthy weathered twine
all friends within
a secret place
to mine the mind
a space where men
have always fled
and every man
deserves
a shed.

It’s blank
this space
we occupy
scratching the void
we stare
in articling watch
we see
cold folding air
we share
time spilled sun
we thank grace
more than that
we are here
and we are there
and we fail
and we can feel
we almost care
this is blankness
after oneness
after selflessness
after all.

I know the way.
Every inch and mile
each turn and blur
every waypost sigh,
I know the way.
Yes, I do.
And I know you.
And we both know
it’s time to move.
Lay the landscape bare
unbutton roads -
each lane and every track
open to the journeys
never coming back.
I know the way.
Turn left, turn right
straight over keeping on.
We will have miles
beneath our wheels,
like every breath
that ever was -
like every glancing move
like each wilful lover lost
we will travel on.
I know the way
I really do -
don’t stop, don’t stop
until I say.

Destination.

Take me up and take me down
hold me still, spin me round
stretch me wide and fold me flat
roll me thin then mould me fat.

Lean me over, fly me high
make me laugh and make me cry
join the circuits, switch me on
you are all, and you is one.

Tell the tale then sing the song
push the bell, then drag along
make me crazy, make me sane
shake me lazy, wake me lain.

I am cleave and you are blade
and I am one in your parade
raise me higher than a stone
hold me tighter than the sun.

You are all, and you is one.

And the cells
in my eyes
are twitching
like flies
and the wells that
now rise
sink constructed
disguise
and the yells,
thin like ice
and the wails
and the lies
are you feeling like I?
can you bother
to try?
the cells
in your eyes
are twitching,
like flies.

I am
on a train and
fate is faster than I
sleek and slipstream sharp
like an arrow, twisting
through all I know now
inevitable, like a silk flag
stretched and tacked
my talisman, now my target
sewn with silver pins
worn to show a difference
torn now by indifference
raised up for my deliverance.
And I am on a train,
again.