Morning

Pattern of rain on a hot tin roof
Chanting throughout morning
That Life is awake.
Rippling shadows of daydreams
Wet kisses on flowers
And the beat of the world
As it turns around again.

Soft sparkling jewels
On the robes of the court
In the fancy nodding sway
Of trees at their bathing.
Rituals danced in the air above,
On a wing, singing prayers,
This day has spoken.

A Spot Of Oil

Crazed images of a question
Like a spot of oil burning in my mind
Torn conflict haggling for more room
And the pages of a diary
All too soon consumed.
Whispers of a dew-struck morning
Veiled like a lie on a silken tongue
Sneaking light on a horizon
Of no-tomorrows, broken silence
Creaky old man wearing tight shoes.
Every moment lived till forgotten
Temporary forevers in folded gold
A false light breaks on the horizon
And a small bird shivers with the cold.

Hollow Vessels

Fuck happy,
No stable emotion created more
Than well-cut lawns and polished floors;
No passion, no flair,
No mindless stare
Into the looking glass,
Peering through time,
Sharing oblivion through hapless smiles,
The statues of a clean, cold world,
The ever-present half-full glass,
The empty, hollow vessels of a love
Structured, organized.

Dream Tourist

Absolute surrender to a dream within a dream,
Finding layers in the ocean,
Blurring lines of definition,
Swamped by challenges of devotion
Information as a sensation
Emotion as education
Dereliction of reason
For fascination alone......

Neglecting scope for saturation
There is drive to be eclectic,
Direction without motivation,
Ecstasy and agony,
For apathy aches for innovation....

Wanderlust, yet wonder-free,
Shackled by tourism's blinkered duty,
Innocence open, but sightseer-spoken,
A revelry in seeing, not being.....

Poor Little Mind

Were you homesick for a world of pain?
Lifted from misery to expand
And travel beyond the walls in your mind;
Was there burning in the sunlight?
Night shifted in shadows and rain
Brought the sound of notes into dawn;
Are you so elementary?
Subject to the mirth of the ignorant
The passions of the absurd and lonely;
Did they mean so much to you?
That bearing weight and shallow hope
Was richer than a life made by you?




Zian Silverwolf.

Reincarnation

Pulsating from images within,
I strike - the force of the blow
Breaks and shatters reality
And I am there, in the void....
Waiting to imagine.
A thousand dreams and nightmares
Await me on the threshold of another journey
And while I cram the total into my mind,
The hand watches, wavers, then wanders
Across the page, into the new world....

The waters break and there is a child renewed -
Not on the page, but in me,
Another vision given birth inside me
Only a shade of that truth brought to reality,
Crazed world of insanity -
A figure, a cartoon, a monster or god;
Only I see the metaphor,
Unless I can bring it to life, make it breathe,
Clean away the blood and tears,
Wipe away the doubt and fears,
Solidify the moment, life on ice -
It's never going to be enough,
It's never going to end.
Which means that I will be reborn,
Through every vision, again and again.

Nothing Personal

Allow the changes.
Things grow, shed, morph and transform
For only in movement will they continue.
The path is not yours; it is there for you.
The journey is in the mind
For it is the spirit that travels.

Forget perfection - you are not.
There is chaos in the order that must be,
But deconstruction is not creativity.
Choices made were not yours in entirety -
You are here. In reality.

The myth is written, and you swallow whole.
The lies are spoken, and you make yourself in their image.
The truth is broken into cliches and paradigms of virtue.
It is your illusion, for you to use.

Fairy tales are told and you listen
Made bold in your decision to be legend.
Scripts you write, but there is no one to rehearse them.
This is life, not the book of the world.
Words will fail you in the coming of the light.
Words that are not yours will never prove you right.

Nothing was ever personal. You just happened to be there.

Lyrics - Against the Wall.

It isn't the moment left behind,
Or the memory within the mind,
It isn't the past, or what's been said,
It isn't the world inside my head.

I lean against the wall
Wondering if I can feel anything at all.
I smash against the stone,
Seeking more than flesh and bone,
Hoping to define more than the mind.

Each breath is waiting
Every second is anticipating
Each corner is relating to
Every possibility renewed.

I lean against the wall
Wondering if what I say means anything at all.
The shadows that I make
Don't seem like any action I can take,
Hoping to find more than just the sun.

In a straight line, just confusion,
In a circle, there's illusion,
In a square, there's retribution
In a spiral, evolution.

I lean against the wall,
Wondering if you know that I am here at all.
Do you see this world of mine
Or is everything in your own space and time?
Is that all you can find?