From The Stone Statue Season Collection
The Sunken
Someone walks the earth
with our ears pricked up
we listen from beneath
waiting in the silence of history
for illumination
for all of it to pass once more
We love the pigpen we create
resilient we become
to its odor
so deep we have sunk
that from the surface
only silence remains
The Stumbled Ones
Day after day
fall after fall
treading among the shadows
of those robbed of
thought
Their promise they crumpled
inside the bowels of their past
succumbing to the chains
of their guides leashed
tucked away in boxes
Unlawfully trapped
inside this pit of ignorance
thinking they love themselves
but excrement is no ash
and their hands
have lost the power to create
the substance from which they originated
Genesis 3.14
A tale was told
somewhere in a kingdom far away
not much different from our own
people were born
people with a flaw
the flaw to discover
and recognize their sin
They drank wine played games
doing what every man knows
vainly producing new bodies
patched up from all sorts of flesh and bones
The wine was still flowing
maybe somewhat lavishly
the game went on
and during its occasional pauses
they became obedient
to those bodies that had created
and placed them
in oval cabinets with leather chairs
Frenzied with the game they became
lost in the frivolity
of the words they listened
listened
listened
until one day
they simply started playing playing
going in circles
until their deaths
and births
It happened once and again
in a hilly country of zombies
with lively faces and moves
and hollow insides
A tale was told
like a curse
to the ears it reaches
and they danced
dance
and dance they will
until they are dead
and born again
2049
With thoughts trapped
inside jars of the taken self
they vegetate vainly searching for
lands
that bring back memories
of something lost
Mindlessly they climb
over the tears
feeling the injustice
brought by profits
upon their bones
that pause
and become trees
of a world lost
painted in picture books
A Large Board with a Sign
False people false words
in absurdity begotten
inside the annihilator’s cauldron
the temperature rising
from the global warming
Books taken
dolls given
Dreams taken
bridges given
proportions already drawn
of some illusive existence
of primitive conditions
enclosed with an imitation of trees
with a few ornate birds
Work in progress
do not disturb
Riot
Stuff their mouths with dirt
clog their noses with two fingers
watch their maddening being
die in their eyes
Dig pits
an abundance of graves
just for them
Rip out the traffic lights
and signs
set strategic fires
in the corners of their mindlessness
How to discern
to know the eyes gleaming with fear
from the ones that sparkle with passion
a philosophical crime
of unaesthetic effect
but in order to take a breath
for our own sake we have
to roll up our sleeves
and get to work
They Said Wake Up
They said Wake up
scrape the remains off of yourself
clog your mind open your eyes
layered with a distant look
lose the words for they hurt
New moles around the wrist
somewhere out there a twin
has slashed his veins
The phrase Wake up
listen to the earth
don’t get cold
don’t sense its smell
blend and you will be awake
you will be everything
Blur the faces
memories stall you
be clean forget
recognize the sound of silence
the sound of everything the sound of us
Let us say We are awake
beneath us the dust
of all that once was
shall become ground
Let us walk properly
tomorrow
The Unchosen
Hordes thrash the ground
squashing the clenched clouds of everything
lords of thought and shapelessness
tear the threads of ideas out of the soundless Cerberus
anger-driven and discarded
they ravage our only existing possession
No gaps a harmony of rage
they summon the rain that pours through them
whilst resuming their endless path
at their wake they only leave foreboding
and the heavy thud of silence that shrouds the Earth