The Time Keeper – 05

Honestly I’ve gone with the winds and where their caresses did take me, we should focus more on how he felt in his shifts

I made the most progress in the first days by mistake,
Chasing moonlight I stayed up too late and lost my way,
In all the corners of the dark I had boisterously played
Strayed so far from what I knew, I had to start life anew
So far down I had traveled now – where to begin to climb
Hand over hand. Long enough had passed
and there it was, the risen sun

He said he had no interest in coin, but It’s hard to take a man’s word for something when everything he desires puts him in line with the convenience of it. Or is that just it; The convenience of it takes our focus off of the real McCoy. What do you mean? Well what use is a good taste without the time to relish it?

The time to enjoy is everything. The time to realize everything else is secondary. The time is all that mattered. And with that the case is left open faced. Go ahead look it straight in the heart and see, that we’ve got just as much a chance as bumping into him on a street corner in the desert. We won’t be going to any deserts. We might miss him then. We will anyways. Who are you? I’m tired is all. It’s the way you say it. You don’t have to be so blunt and broken.

Break it up, be open, the reality is we’ve got the time, and he only has a sliver of it.

How much does anyone really need ? Dig into me. Find what you need.

Forget The King

I mean really, I’ve known things better than crowns & having your food prepared for you -We could use our hands – Touch things they say are forbidden and laugh, You like to laugh don’t you? The one who raises your spirits with empty glasses is the real babe born in the purple – Humor is royalty – Walks through the courtyard sure are nice, but these legs, well we could run; Yes I’ve seen the way your eyes get glossy while you watch the cat dash and jump for fun out in the fields – We’ve got all these tastes we could really enjoy with our tongues, let’s stir up the ground and dig up some turnips; When we’ve had our fill we’ll prank the executioner at the gallows and tell him he’s got the wrong idea; He’ll hang your tired gown instead, and we’ll make our way to the woods where the real treasure has always been

I must warn you that the market is not open to the words and happenings of the woods. The magic I’ve taught you can’t be brought to the royal court, nor should it be used to force opinions. If one is not sensing, wide to what you taste; To what I’ve yelled in the heart of the forest and is now only a whisper at its’ edge – Then you must keep secret the wild in your head.

Will I be able to count on your mana’o?
You say I don’t have to even ask,
But honestly in times like these I do.

In times like these I do long for the wild to speak to me like it used to, but that doesn’t mean we can’t get close enough to hear it clear as the morning lark, the mountain stream, or Wind song!

The dark things here, like to hear sweet whispers too.

How Do You Know?

How many priceless thoughts have vanished before being given a good echo?

If I shade the lines in dark
You’ll know which ones I’ve done

All of them is pretty blunt.
I’ll find something sharper for us

Sometimes I just want it pitch black
I can still see what we need

A deep breath for the last drop
And if we can’t find more – Sweet dreams

I sunk god into the ground faster than he could dance to electro
That wasn’t fair of me though if you ask the theologians
Fuck opinions only offered when tithes are at stake,
or probably if we put them to the stake – Fire in the library
Where were they when my pages were burning;
Alexandria I am sorry
You said I could sleep – And while I did you were taken from me!
Fair to claim you as my loss- It’s not – Fair that he was the one in charge
Angels where were you, was it not to you to test your edge?
How was it when you were watching from your beds?
I should have known you lacked the mettle,
soft as clouds you walk upon,
I hope your feet arrest you when they must walk this ground

Do you want another soliloquy,
Voices in my head or words to myself,
With love I do retire to the shelf
All of those who have outlived this planet’s health
So here take your place, please step from the stage,
It’d be an ugly shame to have to hook you ourselves

Have you ever driven a hook through a writhing worm?
I tell you, you don’t do it if you don’t have the guts.
Because if you play with it, the idea of doing so – Well you tend to deliver a lot more trauma than the hook that goes in with certainty.

Sweet nature’s bend, if I had a home as big I’d take you in;
Away from all these corroded wills, empty inside, no thrills to spill

When The Calling Comes

The morning was brash, so brash that it shown in white or black, no mid tones. It hit like the hard drumming of blood flow through the body the day after an awful dive. Awoken, a voice echoes out into the wild expanse. Torn between geographies and conscience; You can never stay, you can only go. Call it whatever you please, but they flash and grab, the city lights won’t let you forget!

But who am I?
A devilish twist on comedy; Divine they say.
When they dim it’s a relief
I’ve been patient for the other six
but Heavens they are the deadly virtues, I ought not to wait
So I’ll go on ahead and expect them for dinner,
Unless they choose to fast, then perhaps Brunch tomorrow.
Should I be kept due to their nap or a stuck zipper I’ll have to take temperance and give them a word of kindness: I swear they get lost and forget their respect, so full of their own shadows
These righteous ones have always been the bother.

Are we there yet! I’m not surprised to hear complaints.
You should watch the tongue, how it dances will say a lot.
And how you speak in the quiet is a subtle spell to yourself!
There you go, catch a tune in your ear and become throned
This isn’t the seat you want, but it is a big stepping stone.

Little fairy mornings and bright starry nights,
So sweet to the taste bud, so stark to the mark,
Madness you call me, madness you adept pain
So perfected are you, I say I hardly feel a thing

It’s up to you if you want to take the risk of being stoned
If you’re asking me, I’d say the reward is the correct one





Nosce Te Ipsum

Do You? When your picking up your poison, do you feel the tinge in your nerves before you drink it down? Do you catch yourself and reason that it will be just fine? I bet you do.

Beautiful and broken pieces shattered glass all along the beach & I be drinking, I be mixing, and it’s not even the weekend

I knew this would come, I knew this would happen. It’s an age old rinse and repeat cycle with stains that never come out. I have been waiting for it. I’ve learned by now what to do, but still haven’t brought myself out to do it. You always want to believe you can prove yourself wrong in these matters – But you know that’s impossible with the intuition you’ve raised.

Write and do things that hurt, move to where you need to go rather than sitting around waiting to become numb to the shit, everything counts, even the small stuff.

I don’t know myself when I’m happy. So I haven’t written. I don’t mean to say that everything that came before was sad or even rooted in it, not at all. It scares me – because I’ve learned so far that I’ve gone and ruined all the happiness that has come before. I know I only brought the inevitable to the surface – Time running its own course would have done this regardless. So I guess I took fate and spun my own jacket. Wore it out and got the fit I was interested in. I’m alright with that. I like wearing and tear. The way you feel after digging a few trenches – Like an ice cold dip in the water is the only kind of refreshing that will get you good. Yeah you’ve got to be good before you can get great, so I go that way and then when I stand up like a wolf from the tundra, hungry and with focused intent, I seek the type of warmth that can only come from filling the belly. A deep warmth the sun can only begin to raise with its rays – A feast that fills you for days

That’s the thing about life, you can be right in it, right there, spending all the time you have with a person, and unless they speak it, unless they give voice to what is on their mind, you’ll never know what they are thinking. You can have ideas, but those ideas are only your own, feelings your own. You can’t know what they are thinking, but that’s the difficulty life throws at us – It’s hard because by default we only get to live one life first hand – All the other perspectives are postulated, hypotheses, drama we mix up in our skulls in hopes that we might have found someone else thinking that it wouldn’t be so bad, to spend together that oh so precious currency we all have come into by being here.

Know you, you’ve got so much you know you want to
I know you wanna,
I know you want to yeah,
You know I wanna,
You know
You know
You go up higher than me some days

The Architect & What’s Missing

It is hard to accept that we’re all looking for something that lies within us. To be completely patient with self, and in no rush with you – Together, someday, we will arrive.

“This conversation is missing your voice”

I am trying to keep myself out of harm, I just have a little untamed wild in me. It’s all open, and windows placed so that the light shines through at those hours of the years. Of the year. They inhale and exhale for a moment in the year. Sure enough they do arrive, they arrive, and if you haven’t read William Blake – Well you might see them go at the rate a book fallen from the shelf hits the ground –  I’ve seen at the pace of paint drying, the crawl of the tide back to the mouth of it’s mother, steady as Earth’s axial precession. I wouldn’t say stalled; But I’ve fallen to sleep and awoke with plenty still to admire. Rarely is there an evening that goes by where we have it too quiet.

I bet you are as smooth as this bourbon and bite just like the vinegar – Sink em in – On the tip of your tongue I want to swim, behind your teeth, I’ll know just the direction you’ve chosen – Towards open waters

One who thought he could swim the harsh seas without drowning,
Have you drank enough off the ocean floor yet?

Some people might try to build a home in ruins. They like the tall open ceilings, and the big windows that let in all the light, the tiny alcoves for reading their books, the craftsmanship and all its’ inspiration. It’s intuition; Engaged and in motion, they can live, they can explore with no sight at all! Those who trust their eyes closed will always see more.

Tired, but I keep going. This is all I know to do, I have reasons to believe in you – I’ll be right at home for you

This was never about four walls


Ruins, Vines & Vegetation

And months, maybe years from now you will come back here. It will be familiar, but new things will have begun to show their growth around the old; Much like the things we water soon overtaking what we no longer tend for. You’ll either smile or have a stale sadness come about you – Both are possible, both are fine. It won’t be something you have to deal with forever. You can leave these things; You are vast as the world, and there are places to go find, people to explore, experiences still to feel on your tongue.

Eventually ruins still standing are come upon by others who peer in awe. They see something, curious, a window into possibility, and to them it is magnificent. To them they see  beauty, fragments of art that once grew out from great spirit, which has since moved beyond. And they express their desire to build great things as all this! They talk of leaving behind monuments so that others can one day find them & know that they too lived.

Time, and our relationship to it, is a curiosity. It stops for a while and slows down. Rests its’ hands for a bit, its’ feet; Takes some space, and lets its’ shoulders drop; Before too long it’s at it again, as it usually does. It has no desire to stop or go back, only forward – Very strong willed. Much like time, if you’ve still got breath in you, if you’ve still got moving parts that have places they want to go towards, then you can reignite your passion. You can get up on your feet and begin to dance your dance once more.

I often don’t know what to say, because the things piled in my mouth do not yet have a place. There is no ear I can release them to, and no bed I can put them up in. They are without shelter outside of Pan’s labyrinth, which can often be a dangerous place; No worries of dangers though, I am beyond their threats.

Like ruins I’ll still be here until I’m not – You know how it goes.

There Was Something I Wanted To Do

There are a lot of things I want to say, things I know [you] aren’t ready for. I’ve spoken in haste before – It was not pretty.

And look at you all with your fingers. Must you point any more to something other than your own. A cacophony of macaws losing their heads like the music has stopped and I’m the last one standing. I will keep mine on right, and note your terrible acting. I have to trust what I do; You can have your doubts, but I don’t need to go any further on that. Do not proceed to speak on what I meant by that to others either. I don’t deal in lies, nor the contempt they breed.

You know how I go for danger, the risk of something going to hell and the potential to be enough; It gets my blood fucking hotter than, well let’s just say hotter than a seat at the bar down with the devil. And you know how hot that seat is baby. Yes let’s not pretend. I should pause here. Yes. I will stop here. I really need to temper this patience. Maybe I’ll stop forever. Triumph, won’t you just get out of here while you still have your dignity? Disaster why do you always play the fool? You two, impostors, I will outwit the both of you!

Yes and here it is. I’ve got a few more things to pile on. Let me just put this right up here to finish the stacking; Perfect.
Now I’ll just take this heat and burn everything I know down to ash, It feels better to have nothing. It really does. When nothing becomes something, heck that feels smooth. Going back down if you can’t help it – Now that’s a bad trip. I’ll start over with not a rag in my stomach. After this you won’t hear another bit about it.

Me and death get along well, although he’s still trying to have that night cap with me; I just tell him some other time.
I know he won’t admit it, but he admires me – for all the times he’s held me close – I brought myself to his door, but unlike Faust I act before the final stroke! I tell him no matter how frail I seem in those moments, I will always have a strength greater than his grasp. I tell him even after I pass, he will not be able to remove the pen from my hand. You know I’d hold that sword so tight that even if my arm was severed my will would force my nerve and sinew to hold on! He chuckles always telling me I’m such a joker. I elbow him in the ribs – literally – and let him enjoy his ecstasy.

They’ve all been trying to kill me, the crowd. Throwing their filth and heckling the man, I am not disturbed. I have been dirty. I have been unrecognizable to myself. Now though I have found me, and I don’t much feel like getting lost in their havoctry.

Pardon me your majesty! Royal highness, you are dressed the finest – I’ll walk with you – but I do like to wear this more common thread which I know your wisdom can respect. A smile is enough to pretend. Let us now part great friends, and anytime you call on me I’ll pass along my earnest answer, for you like my enemies may share my bed.

Here we come to you, this unforgiving minute, what will we do. An hour is far too long, and anything less than eternity is not enough. Let’s settle for 60 seconds. I know, I know, it’s the same, it’s all semantics. For you I’ll give my all! I’ll fill you with my best effort. Now you may call me as you like, but I am my own and what I decide will be my sentence.

You know I’d try Romeo’s vial after Juliet’s ill fate just to see if she might have missed some – Women aren’t always better than men at finding things than they think they are.

Quotes for Quenching – 29 – The Act

“Human beings are by nature actors, who cannot become something until first they have pretended to be it. They are therefore not to be divided into the hypocritical and the sincere, but into the sane, who know they are acting, and the mad who do not.” – W. H. Auden.

Remember: Beneath the surface is calm, it is in line; because the act is all there is. Whatever is projected, is put forth, is everything.

It becomes a multifaceted endeavor. Not what you are capable of, but what are you willing to risk, to know, to forget, to lose, to discover. Would you wager your sanity – If that could even be said to be had? We are actors first. Before we were anything we had to conceive of it, and thus think it before we became. And now the question is do you want funny?

Let’s be serious. Oh, that isn’t humor. A few moments of silence start running through your head. Now you want to get loud. You start questioning the method. Self doubt will tear you apart. Do you have anything in you at all? Does that question scare you? Forget fear so I can ask the only thing that matters: Can you stand the act? Because if you can’t – You do not have to stay. You can leave at any time. And I don’t mean stand up and walk out, so know this: You have to be one person when you wake up in the morning. And this is the act.

The hand that shook yesterday does no more.

Reading You

Does time passing have you contemplating? Are you amazed as much as me?

And all this had passed – Telling you stories, opening up and giving you all the things I could, looking to share a smile, and spend time; I finally understood what had been taking place all along. You’ve been with me now since this started, since you began to know me. Yes, I’ve said it before, and I say it now – You know me. And I suppose I could have arrived to this point much sooner, but I still believe anything worth doing takes the time; takes the focus and energy of many days. Even now as I read you along to this point upon which we converge, I draw my breaths slow and steady because I think a patient and unhurried delivery is due. To who am I writing? To who was all this meant for? Who would find this delivered to them coiled in an evolving script, in the company of countless stamps – Well it’s you.

There is more – There is always more