The Running Dog

For all bifurcating branches
Sublime in their simplicity,
A dog has very little need

Indeed, yet with joyous barks
No less retrieves
Inherent interventions

Between what we deemed
Essential, or inbetween,
Or instead invented;

This contrast is at times
A subtle one,
Like sunlight through

Doppelganger-dappled leaves,
Ever since antiquities
In these dark-shaded parks

Of our entwining souls;
Yet if not for that twisted,
Rotten tooth of birch

In boggy undergrowth,
There would be no us,
Nor any running dog at all.

Paradox

If I die
Does that fly,
(Industrious in my boardroom-soul),
Die too?

The answer lies in morning truths;
I have seen too much death
To live without the absolutes
Of moths and fly-wing truths.
Await ahead, the multiplicity of universes
Wait renewed,
For the fly lives on without me,
But that singularity buzzing
In my mind’s
Unhealthy eye
Is discontinued,
And so the two states
Unfold together,
Uncomfortable together,
Yet necessary ever since
The primordial glue,
Made endless as Pi
When considering as I
Pulled the duvets of truth
Over my view
Of all the possibilities
Latent, residual,
In me, and in you.

Disembarked

Throughout it all
We lived and died,
And now we’re here
We have survived.
Whatever happened
For all time?

The endless wave is still but one,
The time we gave
Forgotten songs;
I’ll never be so woebegone
As those days dried
In solitary confinement,
As a soul disembarked
Bound and dumbfounded
In the moors of my lungs.

Outside a ragtag raucousness
Of seagulls
Signalling new reasons,
How I rode on the back
Of an alligator’s crest
With ivory hands
And gloves of ivy,
How I rode on the back
Of a humble turtle,
Nothing then deemed
Insurmountable hurdles
As the turf reforming before me
When I ruminate
On now, and then.

Sixth Sonnet

Should divinity and deftness intercede,
There’s no foundation for your faith deceived;
Corrupters of stories, creations and states,
Copious fields would have fed four forty-eights,
And yet instead they filled those fields with flame,
Concealed nature with no natural claim;
Buried sacred jewels in a barren place,
Showcased a generational disgrace;
The flag and the spire conspired without end,
So don’t be deceived nor miscomprehend,
Authorship of the powers you will need
Is bound in the beauty of one good deed.
Crushed under a crown, they self-stripped your health,
Better steps forward are with care for yourself.