Mausoleum

Sometimes I know the only way I’ll ever hope to win is if I cheat
And never do I mourn the loss of those who chose to honestly compete
All the same, I do lament when gifted with a well-deserved defeat
Because it means I failed, in both the competition and in my deceit

Sometimes I know the only way to make it out alive is to omit
And never do I feel remorse in using that deception, not a bit
And yet if you imply that I had lied, I get annoyed and throw a fit
Because if they’re the same then I’m a liar, and as well, a hypocrite

Sometimes I know the only way to feel I’m truly safe is if I hide
And not only my face, but also everything I’m holding deep inside
And so I keep it shadowed with omissions, and a smile growing wide
Like flowers on a grave to beautify the parts of me that slowly died

Arrow

Once I sent a letter forth
With lyrics penned of what was then
To be, within the darker times, a torch

Sailing, did it fly and far
With litanies of written pleas
“Ameliorate the wounds that nightly mar”

Later still a bird returned
A note it held, and hope, it swelled
Within where once uncertainty had burned

The letter opened, merely read
“Your chosen mark – it was my heart
And by the time you read this, I’ll be dead”

 

Lepers

For when the bells of iron chime
Then on to the cathedral
Do they move along the streets to fall in line

Stop they, all the tearful toil
Standing cold and idle
Not a shift or sidle – rigid as gargoyles

With given words of ashen lecture
Symbols of compassion
Worn as fashion under dour architecture

Tying tongues in little knots
And fingers slick with tears
With the promises of years, they haven’t got

One

Run, you, my one,
To lands wherein the dreams
Within your heart
Are golden doors
That ever whirl
Into your home

Let there be sun
To bask within and streams
That never part
And glowing moors
At every turn
For you to roam

And when you’re done
A hand for you, serene,
And vivid art
To go explore
With wings unfurled
But not alone

For you, my one,
Are more than any dream
In any heart
Or any door
To any world
I’ve ever known

Winding

Strange
How on the ground the snow is blinding
That
We seek so tainted by reminding

I,
Within, can feel the gears are grinding
So
Consumed by memories rewinding

Treasure
Found, and underneath the finding
You,
The road beneath, forever winding

July

With lamentations, e’er we lie
Upon this tide of aspiration
Disparate as earth and sky

For labored breath has earned your eye
With pulses high as tabors set
And cabers hefted just to vie

A melody escapes from why
With timbre lithe as elegies
Compelling me to trust and try

Where wonder flew too much for nigh
And thus was I held clutching you
A touch consumed as stars born in July

Juxtapose

Was gallantry the reason
That I trampled through the garden
And then waited for the season
So that I could pluck a rose?

Was chivalry the virtue
That compelled me of my treason
As I swore I’d never hurt you
Leaving every crux exposed

Is honor what compelled me
As I waded through the river
Breaking every chain that held me
Blind to what I crushed below

Can sorry really save me
When the angels that are crying
And the demons that are waiting
I can never juxtapose