Hacker

 “It’s not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential.” – Bruce Lee

summer-paradise-dreamer
The way closes in quickly behind him, the path for retreat lay buried beneath the tangled brush of circumstance and pain and, as the way behind him, so the way forward. Hack. Hack. Cutting through is his only way to survive, so this occupation possesses him as the crash and thrash of falling vines collapse. Pushing against the green and brown thorny tides, his blade finds the branch and creates a hewn option for progress. His muscles shine with the sheen of a mad genius plotting against the onslaught of disbelief and solitary confinement. Hack. Hack. The enemies that dig pits of despair and throw boulders of anger at his stubborn persistence feel the power of his unstoppable advance. Deep jungles and forbidden territories fraught with dangers, they bear the mark of this maker of ways. Hack. Hack. The wayfarers and sojourners of the same trail are out of sight, but if you listen closely to the forested cries of beauties unseen, you know he’s alive, by the sound of his blades, Hack, Hack.

 

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Exception –

“I cannot be bound to the confines of your rules. I am the exception to them.”
Truth Devour, Wantin  
 “Exceptions are not proof of the old rule; they can also be a harbinger of a new one.”
jennifer-sixx

We were together for years it seems

but those days are just part of a dream

 
 
Heaven sent but hell bound
 
for my blood scent a female hound
 
 
 
Things left a confusing scene
 
broken scars all part of the sheen
 
Your memory still at midnight prevails
for all that is wrong, it still leaves trails
 
No more tears, their long gone
buried in the shadows of woman’s song
When the afternoon’s sun turns to nights wrath, I’m left with nothing. But God.
There is way that seems right to man, in my broken mind it’s a fallacy. But God.
Lust consumes and passions lead on into the gray of a twilight future. But God.
In vain chasing the white clouds that bring relief from this insanity. But God.
But even the high stacks of fortune’s thievery leave me alone. But God.
No way out of this green mile of hell’s gauntlet, cheered on by devils. But God.
In the desperate flames, drums of throbbing nights beat my soul. But God.
But God
will destroy contradiction
will make a way of escape
will break sadness with a smile

will set the solitary in a family.

 

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

10192013

 

Imminent Mortality –

“I want to tell you what it was really like to think death is imminent, but I can’t. It’s a taste in your mouth. And an emptiness.” – Aaron Huey

 

 

 Sneaking thing this black specter, writhing in my brain,
Coloring my bright light with shades of never
Bringing the death of my flesh
In the missing of your gray eyes, pushing in my stomach,
grabbing solitary and smearing me with earnest
Bringing the death of my heart
Swirling decisions in red clouds, failing in my heart,
a tempting success erased in a hurried smudge

Bringing the death of my work
Jumping off castles of white cliffs,
flapping frantically in the forest of the unknown
Bringing the death of my belief

First published in Opinionsofeye.com

No One Can See

“It’s just some instinct as old as fear: you seek the dark when you hide, you seek the light when the need to hide is gone. All the animals have it too. (“New York Blues”)”
Cornell Woolrich,
Night and Fear: A Centenary Collection of Stories 
 
i3 – ytimg
Flee my soul into the tide
Dive my soul into the night
No one can see
 
Float again, soon to be
The flavor of lust again in thee
No one can see
 
Something beyond calling to me
To gather my strength and give esteem
No one can see
 
Hiding alone amongst the trees,
again I rejoice in the fallen leaves
No one can see
 
Flying through the depths of seas
in the caves are heavens keys
No one can see
No one can see
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The Hermit Chronicles: Cup of Conversation

“Not all those who wander are lost.”
Some things were better lost than found.”
annasasylum

Lost is good, that’s when I find places that appear on the horizon of experience, places that are exciting, painful, and perhaps enlightening. Being lost and alone sounds terrible, but these are exciting lands and through wandering I pass by many old and tattered road signs that point out toward a different way. Beyond addiction’s sign, I see the detritus of the many who travel here strewn about and the bones of those who scarcely made the turn on that road before they died choking on the false hope of that distant city. Violence, that sign bears holes shot through with blame and anger against foes seen and unseen, real and surreal. Down that path I hear echos of private wars, fought more often in that travelers head, then on the road itself. Fame, this sign is hard to see, covered with thick strands of luck and persistence. Looking far down that road I see no one, I only hear crowds gathering and yelling praises at the swollen headed partakers of that way. I love to pass by those exits and the many crisscrossing and circuitous forked roads called psychiatry and religion. Bah, I turn my back on these and wander through my solitary confinement. It’s there I’m comfortable and being lost gives me a reason to go back over my favorite parts. Don’t feel sorry for me as you see my shambled figure shuffling, my face overgrown with disconcerting opinion. I’m happy here, but wait, would you like to share a cup of conversation, speaking without words over my fire? I didn’t think so, you have your eyes set on the exit signs…you’ll be back though, I’ll keep a light on for you.
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Cup of Conversation
 Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Fallen Trees
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Aimless 
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Hounds  
Related Post: The Hermit Chronicles: Unbelonging 

Also published in Broowaha
Also published in Life As A Human
041113