Friday, October 30, 2009
The Deaths Of Millions
I have spoken to the rest of the world and we all feel sorry for you. Because we get to look at you but all you have to look at, is us.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
The Last Place We Saw Them
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
The New Species
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Monday, October 26, 2009
Friday, October 23, 2009
The Helix
Thursday, October 22, 2009
The Mechanics Of Puppetry
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
The Peace And The Star
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Autumn In Their Eyes
You are not there. Somewhere in the future, suffering for something that hasn't happened yet. You are not there, in a place where all your worries manifest.
You are not there. Somewhere in the past, reliving your old mistakes and regrets. You are not there, in a place where memories resurrect.
You are here. Right here.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Perfect Kiss
Which is when the world stopped turning.
Which is when the birds fell silent.
Which is when the clouds all breathed in at the same time.
Which is when lies became truth.
Which is when pain became love.
Which is when fires burned blue.
Which is when red flowers bloomed.
Which is when snow fell.
Which is when ice became water.
Which is when the universe smiled.
Which is when the sunshine and the moonlight met.
Which is when gravity gave up the ghost.
Which is when the air became thick.
Which is when people screamed on the edges of cliffs.
Which is when every guitar in the world strummed the same three chords over and over.
Which is when the dead rolled over and wished to live again.
Which is when the song turned itself up.
Which is when aliens on other worlds looked up into the heavens and gasped.
When is when hurricanes and storms and floods swept through us.
Which is when tears fell from willows at the beauty of it all.
Which is when riots and madness chased themselves through the streets.
Which is when millions of glasses committed suicide, throwing themselves from kitchen cupboards.
Which is when angels were filled with envy.
Which is when vampires threw back their heads and howled.
Which is when skin crawled.
Which is when we were watching TV on a couch.
Which is when you were in my arms and I was in your mouth.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Cold Travels Fast
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
The Oroborus I Fell In Love With
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
The Evidence Against And For
I have these dreams, filled with the melodic singles of rock bands, blank pages and words pouring out of plants, rabbits in top hats singing lullabies to lost love, golden dragons circling the grave of their mother, roaring fire and flame in defiance of death, barristers and black knights doing battle in city streets, trains to hell and elevators to heaven, somewhere in an ocean of skin, somewhere in a sky filled with sin (bring them all to bear).
And though you might not have witnessed them, I believe it all to be as real as anything else I've ever seen.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Colours Run
Friday, October 9, 2009
The Passing Moments
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Sky Will Leave Us
Now you all travel in shells, one per a shell because you can't trust anyone. Belching thick, black smoke, too far and too shielded to be seen or recognised as human so you treat each other as aliens while those who can't afford shells stand in a mechanical tide, washing in and out in time to red and green lights.
Beggars on a black beach.
Look what you've done to my air.
Beggars on a black beach.
Look what you've done to my air.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
The Remembrance Of Light
Friday, October 2, 2009
The Truth Behind Glass Mountains
This isn't torture.
Torture happens in small, dark rooms in countries with names you struggle to spell.
This is just mildly unpleasant.
This isn't heroism.
Heroism happens in churches that are also schools, performed by teachers with no names and no place to stay.
This is just a good deed for the day.
This isn't loss.
Loss happens on fields filled with poppies, in hospitals buzzing with flies, in distant deserts and late at night when there's no good reason for the phone to ring.
This is just longing.
This isn't important.
Important happens on bended knees and is breathed on last breaths with hands clutched tight, hearts tighter.
This is just a distraction.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)