Whenever I feel here

Whenever I feel here, I stay still and try to stay.

It’s hard sometimes, it stings to try, I’d rather drift away.

It’s often that I wonder slightly if I’ve found an answer,

Some tragic truth that sees me through to happily ever after,

My hope gets higher, a trifling sight, it’s not so very lifted,

My thoughts get slow, my feelings bright, they all say that I’m gifted,

When clouds part quite apart from themselves, when sun shines through and soaks,

I beg the gods, the trees, the mountains, let me  go, let me go.

I want to go to a place I can stay, I want to journey to an end,

Not the end of all, just the road I’m on, the never halting bend.

Baby Spiderlings

I usually hate this time of year

When the roses I want to kiss are covered in

Bits and streams of web

When the dew exists to make swinging and flying a bit easier

Maybe a sip for the weary eight legged traveler

I usually don’t like the way that these

Tiny gossamer obstacles get in my way

Appearing quite suddenly, no way to escape

Covered in strings of fate for the fateless

But recently I met a friend

And she loves all the wee baby spiderlings

No matter the kind and no matter the size

She thinks that she can see love in their many many eyes.

I usually can’t stand the sin

Of a minuscule foot on my skin

Of the brushing and tickling of all their queer ways,

It’s not that I hate them or think they should die

Yes I used to think that but now I’m older and wiser

It’s just that I wish they’d stay away and outside

Not coming near me and mine

It’s simply a case of my not wanting this

To be covered in their panting hearts wanting bliss

And then I sit wondering how did it happen? This hatred of mine of the things in my lap?

Was it some faraway memory tickling my brain?

Did they once all attack me and leave me in pain?

No it’s simply that I fear what I do not know,

And there’s simply not time enough to learn all there is to

No not the fear

I’m fearless these days

It’s more that I’m too strong to weather their ways,

So sitting inside, nice and safe from it all,

I have one last thought

Why be fearful at all?

recently I met a friend

And she loves all the wee baby spiderlings

No matter the kind and no matter the size

She thinks that she can see love their their many many eyes.

I Don’t Mind the Dead Things,

the rotten, the ruined,

they give me a glimpse of the fate I lie true in,

the veritable capsules of long gone forgotten,

the best of the worst and the weakest,

for ought not the dead be alive in their finality?

could not the memory of all be what we all need,

wouldn’t it be just the best if

we just could get this

song in our heads to have some harmony?

I don’t mind the dead things,

they once lived so well

that they gave it all up to be

devils in hell