woolgathering

the world blurs
the mind demurs
the demands
of doldrums days
drown out the divine
lost in woolgathering ways
escape into the jungle haze
of the delusional sublime
for adventure or the serene
the ecstasy or the agony
or anything, dear gods, but
this permanent in between

scarify

remember and know
i am a seed

and all the nicks and scrapes
the fiascos, the hard breaks
the falls that i take
that scarify me so
tattooed upon my heart
and etched upon my skin
are not a wrinkled reckoning
or proof of ruination
but are in fact
to speed my germination

so from within kernel encasing
i may sprout and grow

rabble

they have means and might to broadcast
they own microphones and the media
they manage us thus

but rabble must rouse instead of drowse
before our tvs or clacking on clickbait
like yesterday's catch

here in the hoi polloi we can drown them out
we can raise our voices in cacophony
or join together to find the harmony

and together our million little voices
will compound to resound as a single sound
to make our will known

cursory

no needs for subliminal screens
we make our own with each scroll
the memes instead flash by
and our eye in cursory glances
performs a dance for domination
of information without substantiation
in a world of snippets without context
we cannot expect somehow to accrue
the perspective to figure out what's true

elucidate

the same song serenades us
on a broken player piano
as we wait for an epiphany
to elucidate what it was before
and make whole the chords
that jangle like the grin
of a jagged singer smile
filled with aged gaps
and holes on a tattered roll
so we create the harmonies
in our heads to make a tune
out of what might have been
or what might be
a mangled rendering
of Clair de Lune

nondescript

inscrutable,
with the curl
of an upturned lip:
sardonic cynicism
or simply his smile?
eyes wise
but unrelenting
as forthcoming
as a nondescript wall
he gives away
nothing at all
and I never know where
in his estimation I fall
unless I ply him
with copious amounts
of alcohol

agon

withhold judgment

you do not see the maelstrom writhe

inside my crucible chrysalis

or the agon as i strive

to excise the support on which i stood

to free myself of my flocculent facets

trusting turmoil to transform

so that if i survive

i may fly