Someone Else’s Song

I heard the end of your song
Before you finished singing;

I found the end of my life
Before I finished living.

Now I’ve been singing someone’s song,
Their words in my mouth, verbatim,

And over time their phrases replaced
Everything I had forsaken;

Routed out, vicarious mouth,
Only my soul’s voice was not taken.

Little Mjölnir

A hammer I found
On a tall mound of earth,

Only man-made,
So little like Thor’s.

I swung it at mountains
Of old washing up,

I heaved through the trees
Of ancestors lost.

The townspeople laughed
As I toiled and I huffed,

Its handle unvarnished,
Its corners were scuffed.

Look at him missing,
They sang and they coughed,

But they couldn’t see
The meaning of moths,

Shattered my ego,
Departing the docks.

The Coast Of Devotion

A part of my curse,
Inculcated, in marrow,
Nearing kingdoms of self
A wider gulf narrows.

I’m rebuffed, beaten back,
By bluffs from sea-sparrows,
Fall from a deck
On to self-tinctured arrows.

Where you are on green,
I’m red at the light;
When I dreamt I was falling
You stood through the night.

I expect this will pass,
For the future’s in sight,
Where I can’t compete
With gifts in your life.

A future sea-faring
In circular motions,
Just out of reach
From shores of devotion.

When all is extinguished
Find new attuned heights,
Blessed by Love’s arms,
Devoid of the night.

Trappings

Essence of survival’s seed
Is only ever as vital to me
As happiness aligned between
The nature and the need.

Wealthy neighbours trappings
My role could never afford,
Grow your golden shiny wrappings,
I’m happier being poor.

There’s nothing fine to me in fame,
All people I’ll not meet;
Filling thoughts, a foreign name,
For rhymes which float and fleet.

I turned my ego inside out,
Ego flogged my soul impure;
It thrashed in nets, and lunged about,
May meditation some day cure.

The Rival

My art is fuel for my self,
It’s all about survival;
Watering plants in a drought,
Mundanity’s suddenly vital.

I wanted a different existence,
To find my higher rival;
Meanwhile art is all I’ve got
Before touching down on arrival.

Later, above that lofty shelf
Too late the dim apostasy!
Knowing I was safer below,
O art, protect my soul from me.

When a unicorn falls from the wall
Then we are all in trouble;
Until that day I’ll paint my bed,
And write beneath the rubble.

Ode To A Garden Snail, Part 2

Little snail,
Evening journey,
You made it so far;
Will you one day
Reach a yard in to
Something like me?

If you have to,
And I hope you may do,
I am sorry now
For inevitably what
You must go through;
Blackbird beak,

Your shell will leak,
The soil below takes
Its toll. We will
Exchange in time
Our pace, our hearts.
Just keep in mind

And keep your guard,
For there are magpies,
There are sparrows
Who’ll tear you apart;
Stay steady young snail,
You’ll do better by far.