Fever Pitch

Waves dancing over
Crashing slower
Oceans burble in
White noise circles
Droplets like white
Tidal waves might
Burn like fires
For drowning pyres.

Smolder, flaming,
Sulfur’s raining
Burning on edge
Water looks red
Lights so abstract
God in all black
Let the world die
The end is nigh.

Pulsing, shaking,
Throbbing, quaking,
The earth moves slightly
We die nightly
Nothing more and
Nothing at hand
Nothing less for
Them to cry for
Nothing in store
After this war.

Where’s your rapture
Christ is captured
Your cathedral of lights
Is just a blight
Sacrilege like claiming God’s touch
In your soul like you need a crutch
Descend into chaos and order
Fuck the blind-sight on the border
Look in hindsight, just a quarter
Of what we are lost as mortar.

On and on it just gets longer
Growing weaker, never stronger,
More complex with less to say but
We’ve become more afraid of what?
Life moves and nothing changes
Life moves on and we’ll be strangers
The metronome is off beat but we’ll
Finger frets and still turn that wheel
‘Til the day when it all ends and
We’ll be left without our dry land.

Break down
No ground
Clover’s
Over
Luck of
Above
No more
No love.

Single Serving Life

One tree
Surrounded by ashes
Its leaves flutter
On the warm spring wind.

A wolf
Howling at the full moon
Memories it will
Never understand.

A boy
Crying in a park
He doesn’t know
Who he’s waiting for.

Cities
Full of cars and buildings
Where nothing stirs
And there’s no life at all.

One world
Surrounded on all sides
The infinite of space and
Yet it’s all alone.

Deus Ex Omnis

I know of god in every paradox
Every lie that becomes the truth
Every evil from Pandora’s box
Existing to be good.

I feel god in the frigid air
Of a warm spring’s eve
It’s perfect scent, as I stand there,
Is chilling and killing me.

I see god in my city sprawled
Lain out before my eyes
Above the chaos, above the brawl,
I see no order in its life.

Within the calm I see the storm
Of my ambiguous, faithless thoughts,
In their struggle to be born
I know and see and feel my god.

A Happy Painting

Your life’s a picture
A pastel painting; a fixture
On an empty wall
Next to nothing at all.
So picturesque it’s
Perfect in every way
And time won’t mar you
Won’t burn and scar you
Just leave you hanging alone.

An empty museum
With just one exhibit
You have it all
To roam the halls
Late at night when you’re alone.
Day breaks; no one ever comes
Why would they?
What do you have to say?

A happy painting has no appeal
A happy painting isn’t real.

Time is leaving you behind as
You grow old it’ll just get worse:
It’s been too good
Far too good for the likes of you.
Nowhere to go, to run away to
The paint, as it’s dying it cracks.
Perfection rarely ever lasts
So end it, end it all before you,
Lose control; you’ve peaked
There’s nowhere left to go.

End it, end it all now
You can only go down.