Archive for the ‘Schemilix’ Category


The Men with the Ticket Eyes

by T. MORGAN

Tell Mother I’ve gone to marry a man with green eyes,
green as the ocean.
Tell her I went to find him out in the forest,
where leaves were as bright,
as he.
Tell her the word that caught me there was devotion
deep within him.
Tell her I burned the trees because of the monster,
rotting, grasping.

Tell Mother I’ve gone to marry a man with pale eyes,
don’t recall what shade.
Tell her I went to find him by walking aimless,
into the sunset.
Tell her I married him for the wondrous house
that he made,
Tell her I don’t remember quite when I left him,
the man with no color.

Tell Mother I’ve gone to marry a man with gray eyes,
cool as the water.
Tell her I went to find him out in the city,
flint eyed and fragile.
Tell her that, if she asks, she’ll still have a daughter,
if she’ll have me back.
Tell her I drank myself sick, then took a taxi back to the village;
all he had was gold,
the man whose eyes were cold.

Tell Mother I went to marry a man with brown eyes,
warm as the Spring earth.
Tell her that his heart was strong as the mountains,
yielding as soft turf.
Tell her I left because his kindness was grating,
made me feel useless;
and so I wandered on,
before he saw I’d gone.

Tell Mother I went and married a man with blue eyes,
glinting like sapphires.
Tell her I felt entranced by the man that
everyone admires.
Tell her I think about the man with the brown eyes,
when I look at the blue on,
my arms,
my skin,
my thought,
my dignity.

Mother, I’ve gone to marry a man with no eyes,
black pits that beckoned.
He’s never done any harm because he collects,
we seeds and,
I wanted to tell you that I’m still sorry.
But it’s too late now.
I’ve gone to marry the man with the pale face,
and open arms.
I’ve gone to marry the one man who’ll take a daughter
who made too many mistakes.

Desiderium

by T. MORGAN

Come sing with me to
A dirge for the end of the world
Stand with me as the stars unfurl
And toss their golden ashes to us
Stay by me while the sun meets the sea,
Take me home to the cries of bells smashing
Free of you, free of me,
Free of everything,
It’s just ‘us’ now never such a lie
As bodies
We will be the one thing that stands
Against all the petals that ride upon a shivering breeze.

All the mockeries of beauty that dare sing true.

So carry me
When the sun meets the sea
Take me home where I shouldn’t belong
From our seats in the grasp of the wildest dreams
We shall watch as the world tumbles
Down and dust
down
and
dust

You always had a beautiful voice you know.

Under the wraps of the falsehood we live
We are
Unimaginable
So…
Let constraints of ficklest words be undone.
For we are the two that are as always,
One,
We are the war-cry of a world newly begun –
Anew, for we are ever
We are the wings of the wind itself
Open up and we’ll show them hell!

Trivialities to the smoldering soul.

Again I whisper in my sleep of so much wonder beyond words
Your hold entices all the dreams that hurt for all their joy
Myrrh cupped in a palm that once had held
And calmed my trembling fingers
Traced out our lifetimes in the dust
And ashes of what we were

But why must the dirge always end as so
The elegy be misery
Why must the claw of the world grasp tight
So much that we had sought for
Caught, harsh, in the chains under skin
and for my nightmares call out
Word upon a wonder and a sob in the ravenous dark

The whispers in the crystal turn to screams in my tiring mind,
The whispers that you mask are always screams to my aching mind.

I…
Don’t go.

The Writer, Ex

by T. MORGAN

He says his thoughts are tangled like
Thorns
Green thorn,
tangled and torn.

Once it was they meshed like gears,
Tooth to tooth and sound to ear,
The paper was singing
But now he can’t hear.

Oil, drips, somewhere,
Steady.

Sap, forlorn. Dribbling and impotent.

Some dreadful irony,
Iron,
Irony,
Indecision?
(Iron, Irony.)
Cogs are brass; some alloy.
Parchment was flesh once
often a calf. Slaughtered for words.
They ate him – she burst at the seams.

Steam, pistons,
Stars mesh, points clash, biting.
He grabs the air, childish,
clutching
testing if his muscles will move.
Someone threw a spanner
he thinks.
The bastard.

Or not; now he is an ocean, where he was a shore
jetsam, salvage. Now he sees horizons.
Feels asphyxiated. The sky is too blue.

He never liked ballpoints.

The pumps had something human to them,
he thinks,
and the pipes pounding were like a blessed
headache.
Now it’s all electronic.
There’s something wry about the similarity.
His eyeballs ache terribly. Synapses fire, wanton.

He leaks, possibly. Somewhere.
The engine’s given up.
Maybe it was the breath.

An ocean and the conjunction is
rusting and
verdegris was always so much
greener.
Like a thorn.
Hissing crown, machine, thorn, word, thud,
paper sung
the ears mumble but they knock on darkness.

He liked to call them ‘she’.
He forgot why.

Vergissmeinnicht

by T. MORGAN

Don’t forget to sing though the sun won’t rise,
One man against a beast with a thousand eyes,
Choke through the snake wrapped around your tongue
and
Remember:
You’re never the only one.

(You’re nothing without yourself.
You’re nothing without yourself.)

Fallen stars bleed a silver light,
No gold to lead your path tonight,
You’ll follow against the planet’s might,
One man against a monster:
Stand and fight!

You’ll stand against nothing though you are blind,
Locked in the darkness of your own mind,
You’ll stare down the world you no longer see,
Always screaming: ‘Remember me’.

(Always dying, but remember me.)

Don’t forget to sing though the sun won’t rise,
One man against a world of a thousand lies,
A solitary army, though still so young
but
Remember:
You’re never the only one.

The sky is bleeding, hidden from sight,
The ice in your heart is a fatal blight,
Your worlds will spill forth though you cannot write,
One man against a devil:
Stand and fight!

A fallen angel forbidden flight,
A heartless demon that knows no fright,
You’ll never be what you want to be,
But still you’ll whisper: ‘Remember me’.

(Still you’ll murder, but remember me.)

Don’t forget to sing though the sun won’t rise,
One whisper fighting through a thousand cries,
The final breath of a hymn unsung,
now
Remember:
You’re always the only one.

The Dreamer

by T. MORGAN

I was conceived in
A flurry of paper and ink
A whisper in a room stained with screams
I was born in
A time of feather and fin
Or a time where man makes man
I was raised in
The arms of nothing itself or,
A mountain where an angel summoned storms.

He said to call him master and I never understood.
One day when I was playing with a runaway cloud
And heard a noise.

(I never looked back.)

When I was a child I ran with birds
With wings the size of my hand, and the colour of living,
I called them my family but they didn’t understand
Just ran across the surface of forever.

Once I sailed over blood red seas
On a ship without a name
Whose boards were ebony,
I slept, a young man, curled in hammocks woven from the thoughts of dead men
He whispered to me at night
and taught me guilt
When I left to learn lessons from dusk.

Others say that my old friend was the ship of time itself but
Everyone knows that time walks alone
On a path he wound around his slender finger
And the sea is not his child, nor friend,
So I learned what ‘lie’ meant.

I was there when the sea was just an egg,
That came from the Earth’s womb in a nest of kelp,
Was it me who cracked open that shell and watched
As the newborn ocean explored her world?

Aeons ago when the sea was young,
I crossed from hatchling shore to hatchling shore,
Aeons ago when I was young,
I roved as a free man.
Aeons from now I will still not regret that freedom still likes to change.

Ages have passed since I reached up high,
Plucked out jewels from the darkening sky,
Mother didn’t exist so no one told me
The little fledgling in my palms was called a ‘star’,
But she was red as the sun when he crawls back home.

I was there the first day he came to us
I shook his burning hand and said
‘Sun, this is Ocean. You will be friends’.
Maybe they were but I can’t be sure,
Since Ocean hasn’t rested for a day since then.

At home I fed the star I found
With lettuce, but that didn’t work.

We didn’t believe in names,
Though I put her in my pocket near to my heart,
But she soon went away,
Fled from me when she was hidden by day.

They say I could reach the skies again if I could just see the wings,
The mirror says I have-
But they always hide
And I could never fly, since I wasn’t taught how.

Since everyone knows that time walks alone, and
The dusk loves as a feather’s breath, but I never learned.
Stars can’t feel but I never learned.

Life is a toy for some and that some’s name is time,
Life is real for some, but ‘real’ never healed a wound.
Life is a blink, life is a test, life is a chore,
But death is a rest.

It was aeons ago that I picked up my pen,
And discovered that words had not yet found me,
It was aeons ago when time guided my hand
And said, in a voice that was almost there:
‘You will do this for me’.

He gave me ink from the seed of unknown,
And took me
with him.

Everyone knows that time walks alone, nowhere at once.
Time walks the endless path heedless, with me, and I will never learn.

I tread a thousand ways and back again,
I am everywhere, nowhere, and in no time at all,
I am many,
But only one was gifted a name.

Only one of me writes because only one of me knows,
And only one of me walks the path where the wind from the mountain blows.

Shall We Believe Again?

by T. MORGAN

Lost connection,
Grey flesh, concrete,
No more signs on neon pavements,
Painted the sky blue for pittance,
Buttons sewing silk to fool’s gold,
Nickel soul and copper hopes,
And,
Bright green face for them to smile on.

‘Isn’t iron oxide pretty?’

Just wanted them to believe in demons,
For everything a reason.
Paper floats, a diamond boat,
On seas of need,
To set forth questing,
Hungry eyes, a seagull made of
ice and fire, lick no coal tonight,
Need a bag of dirt and riches,
Freeze before the first is given.

Live in a world of false colour,
While flowers wither in a starving breeze,
Plastic blue and copper sulphate,
Dull the wish with lead and graphite,
Bleached out people, shining screens,
Reflect on shreds of glitz stained cardboard.

Where wise men dance and ashes bleed,
Humanity’s a fickle creed,
Between what they want and what they need,
Left little room for love to intercede.

Degenerate,
Rust and burn away,
See the value in rubies, sapphires,
Grin and gleam the hurt away.
Needed silver, needed saffron,
Needed garnet, topaz, emerald,
Smiles,
Needed a wish, needed a hope,
A reason was given,
The earth is a shell.

Believe in angels,
If it helps,
Believe in demons,
If you want to blame
Spoke a mantra, sung a prayer,
Today it’s all
the same
I fear.

Where ashes dance and wise men bleed.

 

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