Pupps

writer/musician

[pupps-x]

Moment.

Expose yourself. These crooked lines in your ever curves. Take light joy a photon with little pull like some strange impermanance in photograph memory. when you freeze things they become frozen, alien as anything fluid organic growing between the mud, between your toes. The act of recording, remembering, recapturing alive outside our own moving stories is a soft giggle on chaos wind. A pale version. A silluette. Our new collective mind may be quantified shadow. Yet while calm Mystery always tickles a teasing, we must let ourselves be whipped time and time again by its uncertainty.

[pupps-x]

She watches you fade, and it crushes her. You are not the man she once knew and she has only known you for so long. That haze between you and everything is so thick, only her rattling tears seem to call your attention. You, are husk. Rather resist gravity, feet firm, it poisons you. Now, she is poisoned too.  What will you do, now that cold consequence breathes its secrets down your neck? You are tired, too tired.  

[pupps-x]

tell me wicked loathing what it is you want the gravity in your presence turning all to dust turning air to stone fallen feathers no longer  trace my path

[pupps-x]

between trees layered treason petals torn askew how strange you, dormant wanting are unwanted there is a devil buried deep inside. 

[pupps-x]

fallen feather where you lay only sleeping i have seen you before a time where riddles dwell of ageless tides where magic like night to the cold reason of day where your omen would reach me now no longer i hear your song

[pupps-x]

tiny pools of belief stagnant in the unknowing of river that surrounds  

[pupps-x]

that is to say that nothing matters yet any action despite that fact, has meaning

that is to say, that everything you believe, is dust

that is to say, that real life thrives in the immensity of the unknown.

[pupps-x]

Artwork by Marcus Carne 

[pupps-x]

[pupps-x]

amble soft silence adrift

[pupps-x]

sword-smith lone in the land of gun

[pupps-x]

blood quartz the colour of money

[pupps-x]

Lilah

let go

the frosted edge

of reason

dissecting colour

hidden deep

in infant eyes

scaling

emotive waves

picking them

apart

seam

from dream

cool rigidity

an echo

seeps

like a virus

upon the quaint beauty

of rain

we

were ape

delivered

from ignorance

into arms

aloof.

[inbetweendaysminnie]

Lens

A man that camps, a woman that doesn’t. Little house untidy, there’s instruments to use on your lap. My grandmother was there and said “don’t marry, just build a machine together, the kind that can prank but also run you over.” We looked up at her, she spoke for so long my neck ached. Little house untidy, making a lens so I could see through this year in ever year. Time travel wasn’t a means of going back but an excuse to build a fire, run through hoops and quietly bury our non fictions with Pepper, your parents house, in your mothers backyard. I needed someone who could trust my machine, even when broken. Landing on the nature strip, past a narrow cast, a warped 6 pm on an awkward dial. Arriving minutes late, but still, this year, as rosy and as chubby as the time we moved to Blyth street. Still surprised I didn’t leave you behind. I felt around in my neck to know it still ached, I felt around in my eye to know the lens did not. Turns out, time was just the smell of a great song I heard in that house, the one song you knew how to play.

[pupps-x]

ye gal

[pupps-x]

Fata Morgana

a castle

carved of salt

floats aimlessly

above the clouds

its empty halls

dimly lit

by phoenix flame

a dull chiming

resounding its walls

heard only

by those

who know its song

strange

crystaline creatures

circle its towers

performing

an invisible dance

for old souls

lost at sea

upon the throne

of this cold fortress

the spirit of Circe

humbly awaits

the dreams

of those

who have lost their way

she projects a mirage

of liquid gold

calling forth

slaves of fortune

to endlessly chase

its treasures

who inevitably become

imprisoned

in her icy floors

the castle

carved of salt

floats on.

[pupps-x]

Unaware

subtle

flower smile

the mad face

of devotion

her ritual

a dividen

to eternity

while

the wilting

gently takes hold

unseen

unnoticed you find

a fading

of all

in the restless

passing of time.

[pupps-x]

24 Hours

awake you glide upward through glimmering light your clothes fall like feathers from your shoulders with them the worries of day fade you are invited by mystic sounds in strange comforting tongues awake they call eyes open languid before you tiny creatures dance tickling greens and blues from the aura around you chef mischief their only game you smile warmth across your gaze again you float to new shores where you are clothed in the sirens song you relax deeper aphrodites nymphs send pleasure like golden knives into your chest you rise up stepping foot to sand walking to forest land tribal drumming moving with you the very beat of your own heart beaded threads drape you again in deep red the sound ringing in your ears move forth again childlike curiosity it leads you further across desert sands where the cherokee flute paints tiny circles in the palms of your hands the min mins call yet you cannot hear for what was you is no longer here again you float upward gravity pulls you back and forth until deep within a vibrating thunder sounds its clapping hands the fibers of your being all the tendrils of love come apart and dissipate you are dispersed across all these worlds unseen and unknown yet you will assemble again forget not the way you have grown pupps.