Paradox is my second name

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Cursed Blessings

Burnt tongue,Half-filled stomach,Longing for emotion,Applying for pressure,Tidy clean desks,Scattered thoughts,Holding too close,Giving up too much,What do I do,To this Midas touch?

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The Stove

The knobs turn instinctively,And the eyes search hurriedly,Fumbling hands grasp wildly,The spark is set first inside,Where it does nothing but hurt pride,Remember the countdown!Reminds the brain in the wild,A wave of heat throws you off,Then a bright blue wall arises,So clean, so serene, so beautiful and mild,Then a wave of orange over the blue stands,It burns so rich, so fun, like a young…

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Victory Road

It’s always one route away from the start,One path from the miraculous art,The final stop, the final part,Equipped with just a healer and a mart,It calls us, inspires us and draws us in,But it doesn’t let you come within,Doors on doors guard these walls,Some have fire, some have falls,Ordeals stand in the way, but most are formalities,You sail through them on badges won on harder realities,Circle…

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Stuck

Everything is going fine,Nothing is on fire,We just aren’t arriving,Though hours we’ve been driving,There is always a flat tyre,Or an empty tank nigh’er,So we just aren’t arriving,But nothing’s on fire.

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Clean Slate

Wipe that board clean, And take that the chalk upstairs, Let the duster rub it all out, We aren’t going let it stay there. Clean slate beginnings, The holy grails of the wise, They begin with aesthetic appeal, And end with crowning glory, But most of all they hide, And that’s their most important job, To conceal what goes on behind that curtain, What the duster has to absorb. All that is conveniently left…

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Unsaid

Lost in translation, In the midst of times, Hundreds of thousands, number the conversation, But the message, It stays between lines.

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A Tale of Two Weeds

A Tale of Two Weeds

Whence a road ran down, A pretty white spore alighted, Found itself a spot short-sighted, And made a home with a crown.

That white crown now blows, As long as the wind carries, For as far down as goes the breeze, The pavements wave like white fairies.

Then it crept up to the hill, And along the sides it climbed, Winding round and round inclined, Encircling the hilltop with the kill.

It seemed not…

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The Valley of Fate

The Valley of Fate

Lost in mountains, Grilled by time, Bound by countings, Seeking moonshine, Torn by howling, Sealed in silence.

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Saddle Points

Standing scared beneath the summer night, The monsoon blew away all bootstraps, Need to pick myself up for the the fall, Can’t help but wonder at it all, So many leaking saps, Dreading that fight.

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Zugzwang

Living in apparent luxury, Coping with wooden pests, In a house of only glassware, The bird calls outside are heard, But only the lighter burns.

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Horses of the Faery

Horses of the Faery

Where the horses of Faery hide, Where the wings of the seagulls fly, Where the green of the meadows lies, Along that brook I shall sail, See the shining sun of the North, See the singing waters of the Storm, See the shimmering lights of the Fort, Beneath that hill I shall stand, Right in front of the place, Where the horses of the Faery hide.

[Inspired by John Doan’s Where the Horses of Faery Hide]

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Dying Fight

The sky turns dark, Rapidly pouring out, A rain not too heavy, But moderate in its step, It continues walking, Past the day, past the night, The cookers still whistle, The keyboards still patter, The generators still hum, The bikes still don’t cease, And still the walk continues, Caring not for the chilling wind, Caring not for the fading light, Caring not for the dying fight.

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Silent Spam Groups

Five thousand in day, A hundred thousand per month, Still can’t stop silence, After all games are over, Not a soul online but one.

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Ideals

Banners and flags held, Tall and respected in march, Forgotten fleeing home.

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Overflowing Bucket

Sitting in the bath, Thinking when will it be done, Just waiting didn’t help.

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Boring Days

One in joyful breeze, Two burn under blazing sun, Gladdest three cut grass.

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Ghost Number 342

Two cotton mattresses rolled neatly, Two creaky beds lying motionless, One alarm clock that ticks away slowly, Two wooden desks awaiting a mess.

Withering leaves of a bamboo, Paper-filled dreams of birds and fish, Clothes dried and marked for laundry too, Sleeping marble, drowzy dust in every niche.

Two racquets of a game, Two buckets below the frame, Slippers hiding in sight, Keys on the wall,…

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