EZKleen

Inside a dream
Picking up mothballs from the carpet
Haven’t you heard yet
They do it inside
Impossible leanings
make no difference
to the tide
as if flows
inland.
Metaphor and simile
Carpets of Persephone
make glad-will for all men
Persephone will be done
Come to me and to hell
Don’t pass GO! Will there be
another CHANCE for me?
Persephone will be done
Thy Kingdom Come
On earth as it is in Heaven.
Give us this day our daily bread
will be done. Persephone comes
wearing nothing. There somewhere
is grace enough for me. Come and see
believe somewhere is real and will be done.
Where can you see that I cannot?
Did you come here heavenly
Upon a chariot of fire?
There is place for me by the open fire.Will
you sit next to me Soul in penury?

My Candle Burns Underwater

Two Cities..jpegIn a word, insomuch of a breath that was taken in vain

This thing occurred.

A tale of two cities. Forgotten bliss. Memories of hope. Now.

I die. I don’t believe. I try. I do not specify.

Maybe. A Life on the stage for me. Assignations. A plea. Nothing.

Scattered frozen peas. Of an idea. Art was the answer all along.

Now I have something to show. Of ideas caught up in tallow that burns slow.

Maybe I have come of age. Now. Tomorrow. I have been here before remember.

Remember your name and date of birth and what will follow will follow. I have a talk. I have a talk.

My candle burns underwater. Flip the coin of ages.

The World

Big, square shaped, like a cube
That’s Billy my fifteen-year-old.
Slow, boring infinitely repeating
That’s Billy My Sixteen Year old
Large, Full of…
Well, I think we can assume young Billy is growing up, or sideways if you prefer.

The world is infinitely large or small, caring or indifferent depending on who you are;
In front of you lies a thousand or a million possibilities;
In so much as a whisper, your fortune can change
and this comes from one who has known for so long
as much as can be is only limited by what we see.

If you see the world as turning too fast then it will rarely if ever slow down
If you see the world as ugly then you will only see the grotesque;
If you see the world as kindly then you may be blind to cruelty;
If you see the world as sad then you may never ever be happy.

Insoluable in oxygen is this mystery; whereupon was found hate and greed
and misogyny.

Perhaps there is too much to see and better off blinded are we
to the folding of compromise and how it reflects on ourselves on others, we care about.

Nigh is the King we crown when given the Royal Ring did say ‘ A ring for all, so all may sway’ Over and under the trolls bridge today.

Power it may be only held for a day but the memory persists like
pebbles in a stream not worn away from countless tries of the coldest water.

Be a pebble and persist in the gloom, in the mist. When it is darkest.

Away from here goes the crow. Didst thou see it grow? And sulphur from it’s beak glow burning yellow in the night?

The crones babble like the shallowest brook and catch its fish on their belial hooks.

A Young man is foolish, Let him learn at our pleasure they moan into their cauldron casting spells. Belial fortune they crown not men from the town.

It’s a lonely path said the psychopath blind in one eye and just scraping by.
It’s a golden road said the bewitched toad.
It’s a storm of Shit said Belial poking me in the eye.

Winding breaking off at places into the unknown is where you will find it.

What you are looking for. A Ha. A Ha. A Ha ha ha!

You may find it.

The Man Who Couldn’t Write.

The man with gold lead in his pencil couldn’t write!

He tried a gold paperweight on his desk but still the words would not come.

A gold-tin he purchased containing gems and jewels and scattered them did all around his desk in the hope of inspiring him with beauty.

Nothing came.

A name, a game, insane.

He began scribbling with a jewel , a pointed diamond and into his desk scratched his name. He tried other jewels in the same way and gave them to the mice if they were no good for writing with wrapped in hunks of cheese from the kitchen.

The mice ran this way and that with the pieces and then he thought I am better at writing now. I will try my gold pencil again.

Unsurprisingly it did not work again this time either.

So the man went out and purchased an army of magnetically trained worker ants. A million to a colony. Then under his desk, he worked with magnets making the ants move as he did around the desk in the shape of letters. He spelled his name. The ants were up his nose in his hair and eyes and he felt like he was going insane. Until he thought there’s an easier way than this! I’ll try my gold pencil again.

But unsurprisingly it did not work.

He went full out trying all sorts of ways trying to make a mark with his golden pencil. Hitting it , bashing it with a hammer, using it as a chisel, a hole punch until crying he said. I can take no more!

He put down his pencil and cried himself to sleep…

TWO years later the man had written a novel with his golden pencil! Remember when before he couldn’t even write his own name. How did he do it?

 

 

Image Credit: http://enju-chan.deviantart.com/art/A-promise-under-the-Moon-136327869

Sad Unrequited Love

There was a girl once, Fate doesn’t care but Wendy was her name. It doesn’t make the craft paper mache stick together anymore in my dreams.

We were ready to0 double. Double the trouble. Then we were torn apart before we could really start.

There was too much trouble in my part of town. Others were my downfall.

Apparently. I just moved and made no trouble, eager to please a monster in a new town with new girls and boys none like before. It wasn’t fair. Until my forties, I never wrote about it. But it sure had made me crazy. But I’m the same boy from before.

Now I have revisited those memories and it still tastes bitter, the truncated memory. And I wonder… Does anyone care. It would have made a difference in my life if we had made it. I wonder If I had cried would they have listened but I had used up all my tears trying to rescue low flying aeroplanes.

Now alone at last, I play the record again and sing alone, maybe I can recreate the tune.

And make up with the past a different ending and memories just like I tried to do

so many years ago.