Prisons and Chains

When prisons and chains that bind are removed
The lie is broken, truth revealed
And All is set free.
There is no more loss
Only the terrible awakening of purpose.
Illusions shattered and curses dissolved.
No more can lies conceal
For they are hollow
Empty.
Just like the liar.

Beginning With The Dawn

Beginning with the dawn
And sleep, sweet haunted sleep,
Where golden dust shines in
Stammering sunlight
Dunes shifting hands
In a wind-struck dance
Slithering grains move, as
Ghosts on a trail.
Written by history,
Scarred by fate.

But no feet touch the earth,
The oasis is gone.
Buried under time
Lost to a dream.
Where the heart once wondered,
Where the fortress fell,
There is only the dust
And a howling call.

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.