Blind panic

I am a mouse.

Timid. Listening.

Scrambling.

I’ll die.

You are a rock.

Human. Vast.

Beautiful!

My shelter in winter.

You see me and despair.

We’ll live.

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Line

We look down into the void,

Its yawning indifference to the weight

Placed on both sides, barely aware,

How close to the edge we all are.

Appalled. Too afraid to let go.

And fall into what had been forgotten.

Territory.

The world seems such a small place.

That, or its lights shine brightly.

And those at the front are left to burn.

Gone for awhile

She’d left such pretty things on display

And a note to explain that she may

Be gone for awhile, perhaps a day.

Homo sapien’s last gasp

This is homo sapien’s last gasp

Upfront it leads the pack

Doesn’t care for

These new identities

All this adaptability

Homo sapien doesn’t

Recognise change

Or its own evolution

It’s lost and afraid

Grasps on to its status rock. 

Lashes out

Rattles

Its own offspring

God knows

This is no revolution

This is homo sapien’s exit

A thousand generations crash

Into their own past

Witness the birth

Of its children’s child

Defined by its survival

And its parents’ inability

To recognise

We’re two different species

Fear and hope

Walking upright, forwards

Along this tightrope.

Greeting 

Tears are offered here

This place, our sacred stage

Where I give my name,identity

You offer yours in surprise aside

Our business, our status, what forces at play?

This prologue, these tragedies, these years brought forth

To day, this still gathering of mourners

Cry, greet, keep your lines and destiny

’til you are so familiar with them, and this strange other,

You cannot speak nor see him as anything but your brother.

Tonight we dig deep and dare
Bones and bits of resolution
To slide back down the slopes
Of this paradisaical evasion.

Ships pass through the blasted sound
Where voyeur, tenderly, lets two oceans kiss.
Whose lips are sealed with paper pound
Might steal the hungry serpent’s bliss.

King, president, and noble chief
Forge out your empty city’s spoil,
And tempt not reason, Eve, or thief,
Now your years arch over as on we toil.

A Pact

image

I make a pact with you, loved one –
come sooner than a thought.
Slip through earth’s fine skin
With the metal you wrought.
Tender out the flesh, and cap the scabs
Til all our plastic-ridden seas run red.
Smooth our bodies with its petroleum,
So slick we’re floating with the dead,
Soft sludge, this, our chartered mausoleum.
We sign nothing but the bottom line.