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Covert

The constriction is covert, 

the strings are made of silk:

it's attrition by stealth. 

 

The letters from prison, 

penned by unreason

in the syntax of petulance, 

unfurl the frustration

over the failure

of the fabled 

to materialize in 

the realm of the real. 

 

And the dullness

promised in a hiss

one can play deaf to

no more, gently seeps 

into v...

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Narratives

To parse sentences strung

together for effect, 

it might be discovered

that the Ideal is described,

even as one is compelled

to expound upon its dearth. 

 

A way of playing pretend 

at omniscience, with 

a 'voice of God' narration,

though the jig might

well be up when 

there's no one at hand

to give the peroration. 

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Crumbling

The edifice crumbles, 

the artifice emerges, 

the venerable scramble

to conserve a sliver

of sorcery, a morsel

of mockery, to muddy

a salutary catharsis,

lest the tributary

discovered dare lead

to a river of liberty. 

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Anew

The stratagems of Time 

swallow the parables

needed to survive, 

so the liminal moments

carrying all the portent,

require learning anew, 

a lion's share 

of both truth and dare

to deploy when caught

between Scylla and Charybdis, 

and sanity seems but 

a stowaway on the ship

of madness; when

ignorance really could

have been bliss, but

to choose it wilful...

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Disregarded

A disregarded clairvoyance, 

discarded in favour 

of the predictability of chaos, 

the furtive footfall 

of a rescue rejected, 

so that the glory reflected

from laurels once golden, 

now rusted and unearned, 

can sustain the need

to mythologize, yet never heed

the cautionary tales,

while cypresses bleed

their mournful tears

but let them freeze, 

stalactite...

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Undoing

The selvedge unravels. 

 

The sand in the hourglass sighs. 

 

The defence is helter-skelter;

who can even speak of shelter?

 

The soloist cedes the spotlight, 

hounded by a crowd's appetite. 

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Transubstantiation

A transubstantiation of pain

Into a prophecy of perseverance, 

A tomorrow that can finally

Be met at eye-level, 

With a quiver replenished, 

Ready to face all that's human, 

Both the horror, and the numen. 

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