Category: poetry

“Napalm, Mercury, and Melancholy”

Staring at these boots, mind aloof,
Floating in the glow of a setting sun.
In rememberance of a fading dream.
A lucid memory unrelenting.

Radiant were the rays at dawn,
Only a glimpse…
Of this marvel was seen.

Majesty was there….
Aglow with ferocious nobility.
Exuding a rare beauty, enigmatic,
From this perch, looking back,
It was staring in to infinity,
The harmony of Shiva…of storms,
Destroying and creating, as one.
Two eyes are unequipped,
To catch its essence with words.

The ciggerette begins to droop.
Apollo awaits his rest.

Regret will come with the moon.
A gift was lost.
A path was forsaken.

Greatness was there, framing the world,
With a Crown afire, flames unending licking the sky forever hungry,
As they danced..
Thought, sight and reason,
Were consumed in its brilliance.
The crown called in the voice of a Siren.
A seduction irresitable in its call to serve,
“Go…go..please follow the melody”..the heart called out desperately.

Each beat like a drum calling men to war.
Majesty, Greatness. She:
Is magic personified.
The Tyger burning bright,
The immortal hand, and the lamb.
The beginning and the end.

Salvation on her velvet lips,
With an abyss hiding in a grin,
Ecstasy dancing like fae in her eyes,
In step with an unquenchable hunger,
Cavernous and endless,
Wanting everything and more.

Locked in the tower of reason,
That stands tall in this mind,
Peeking out with vanishing skepticism,
Logic crumbling with each second.
Sitting in the rubble with only wonder,

Bewildered…the head turned roundabout:
To a raving Captain Ahab,

A whale had flowered madness.

Soul, heart, mind…lept forward,
Obsessed is a word, or enraptured,

Opposite of ecstasy: thirst in a desert.

Swollen now with some type of clarity. It felt, hope has the heaviest:

Silver tongue.

So then. What was precipitating this:
Eagerness, to enter the maws and be consumed,
How had the mind synthesized the sirens call to doom into a ballad:

Of a reasonable sacrifice so deeply appetizing:
Thoughts once of reason, pleading in a starved tone, knees quivering to bend:
Threads of self already attuned to the vibration:
Which trumpeted in exultation of a King to a Guillotine.

As if guided, to altar: without a bell to ring for existence,

Pride: bullish, and unwavering,
Arose within the mind, militant,
Unequivocally denying this sight.
Dulling the majesty, denying the greatness, muting the call.
Ugly it looked, its taste that of ash.
Unwelcome, it chose the path of
Melancholy. “Never give in”, it chanted.

Continue reading ““Napalm, Mercury, and Melancholy””

Poem, “Morning, #56”, by Boch Special

Haven’t touched the sun yet,
almost ready to spin the endless threads of dreams,
as the stars follow me to rest.

knowing where the boots have been….
……a quest noble, and worthwhile,
lightens this soul a bit…to find at the end of journey:
a wonderful gift of words,
building roads to brighter worlds…
at peace with the shadows

as the dream begins to build great spires
of wanderlust.

Continue reading “Poem, “Morning, #56”, by Boch Special”

“Celebratory Morning, Alice” (Waterfalls of Subconscious: Collection of Poetry)

Morning can be celebratory too!
Alice, does the way ahead, trouble those brave…. Oh so, clever, clever eyes?
Did the path ever become less divergent, are the ways any different?
Here, look to the top, yes, where the leaves meet that cloud,
Where the cloud is embraced by the ray of light, only to vanish
Once in sight. “Were all mad here”, they quoted, but hey,
With this grin, larger than any sin, wider than any trouble,
Could the perfect teeth, crooked in the truths that seek to waddle out,
Be a map, a lamp, what about a cane?
Oh, perhaps this is of a different sort, the climb to step foot out of Wonderland,
Oh silly me, silly my, the crowds of nodding fellows, would think
That the average day is the greatest prize for thee!
Let us sit here awhile, whilst the rays of sun, chase the time in circles
Mad hatter would be pleased, to know the hollow, valley of candied
Trees and woods, had also lost its watch, just as he had, stolen
Under the guise of royal decree, forever to drink tea,
Yes madness is for everyone as was once misunderstood,
If all were mad, then would the madness be as bad?
Drink the tea, scoff the scones, Alice,
brave, clever,
Never stumble, the path is inward, do not fret, over the monuments,
The statues, the masquerade, the kings and queens,
All paths lead to thee,
Not away separately,
So do not fret, oh clever, clever Alice,
These paths are all a mystery, yes, oh yes,
But none are certain, none are worthwhile more than others,
Just your step, only your step,
That is eternal.
Be beautiful, make the wonderland confused in its own logic, a snow-globe,
To play with, another world conquered in the pupils, of the most
Clever, clever, girl. Elegant

Continue reading ““Celebratory Morning, Alice” (Waterfalls of Subconscious: Collection of Poetry)”

“Gifts of, Morning #1”

Great bountiful star,
Over the mandated landscape
Oscillating in river rays
Daring the bees of lent harmony
Moving masterful eyes
Over this box of time
Ranging the canyons of blue soaked eyes
Never reaching closely
In the depths
Not the braided bend
Grasp the failing star
Eloquent lady, dew dress
Mend the belly of the sun to see wonder, Alas.

“Turtles in Mu”, (Waterfalls of Subconscious: Collection of Poetry)

To all the tortoises out there seeking Nirvana.

A turtle swims to the vortex,
To find the light quite like Baroque, as in,
Time and Space are impassioned lovers,
Slow. To understand,
Slow as Vishnu,
As child, eating dirt,
With a universe inside.
Ask a looking glass if dirt
or the universe, was the Mountain?

Tide will come.
Slow will it go.

A journey to 42, with 47,
Was there ever a destination?

In the turtle goes,
Slowly not slothful. Entranced by ..the light,
Baroque or not….eternity or naught,
To a new abode,
Light of Truth and Beauty,
Are ….Elusive,
Grinning ….Hidden
Behind: the veil of time and space’s:
Divine lovers quarrel.

Just left of the tides of ego.

Slow, radiant and if nirvana could be a turtles?
Mu, says the monk long ago, mu.

Continue reading ““Turtles in Mu”, (Waterfalls of Subconscious: Collection of Poetry)”

A Day For The Ghosts, With A Poem.

Today is for the starlight’s lost too soon. Dance hard in Valhalla! 💜

Still inspire word lava, Natalie,
Thanks for letting share:
David Biegen.

Through a lens,
inside the drum set.
As free as the wind,
Yet deep in the muck:
Of lost lunar cycles,
Lovingbeams of the most…
Peculiar sort. If only,
If only had caught some,
To cherish like fireflies,

The wind came too quick,

Burning brighter,
Awkward, yet real,
A light in the cavernous, dark.

Punk incarnate, yet,
Simply Nat.

Mistakes made, regrets buried with albums, old photos, a traveler of that…
Old familiar path.

Society disregards us.
treasure in each other,
Looking for her in the mist.

Always there in the wind,
Dancing aloof,
One step ahead, grinning,
A far laughter, aoelion daughter,
Misunderstood, understanding.

I dance too, with the wind,
In thanks, and grinning,
In sorrow yet grateful,
For every tick and tock,
Every piece of clothes picked up,
Every laughter in random
It is us who owe thee, for all the lovelight lit,
By you Nat.
Fly free, in peace.
Your albatross is released.

Dance and cause chaos forever, Natalie B, you lovely enigmatic punk fairy. Taken to soon. RIP.

“Does One Dare?” (Vulcan Lullabies: Collection of Poetry)


Does one dare?

To cross the boundaries of her hair,

in to the abyss:                                                       of crashing storms!

that rise and turn,                                                 swirling gravity from:

Thine eyes, thundering blue bolts pure:

searing each conviction,                                       every vision

Sculpted in giant,

Her:              desire:                                                 grew colossus,

planes of existence crumble underfoot.

each step:                                                                 a universe undone,

Who amongst the brave, takes a step towards obscurity?

Tempting disaster, squelched, demolished or lost

Another silence of her chasm.

Does one dare?

To venture at a sight,

…that blinds the few who never look,

Bless those,               cursed to witness:

Contours of Aphrodite, at each point..

anew the sculptors rejoice, Prometheus has a new model!

beginning a fire,              so bright

it swallowed the light.

A fortress,

built simply from within to be a menacing sight.

Towering over schemes,

shadowing them in eternal night.

Did anyone dare?

Towards another land…

To lay in glory:                    of gilded trees bark and root.

In her: chosen garden                 behind the stars,

tended in silence,

meant to be private.

Yet every starry sky, bashful

to bloom from her flowers,         every dream awake,

at the heights of her vines, has a surprise!

within each nook:                          a morning in the loom,

colored in sunshine,

touched with the innocence of every lamb,

and tended with the care of every mother,

soul lighter than a feather, behind a chasm, do you Dare?

Continue reading ““Does One Dare?” (Vulcan Lullabies: Collection of Poetry)”

“Pocket Full of Rabbits”, from, (Vulcan Lullabies: A Collection of Poetry)

Dearly Beloved, slid from Coltrane at noon, slathering

Dirty melodies,conjuring images

Convoluted, shadow puppets…move upon the wall,
From an era gone,
At the edge,

Curled up in the rime, cloudy frozen bed…

Caught in amber, diluted

Each       memory       of every one       else becomes:       hollow,
Harder to recall, a conversation lost….(from your old Facebook)

Once read, “you were the highlight of those times”
Yes…the rest is a mess, elusive at best..
Not ours, it screams vivid,
Clarity…was it really us that built this wall?
Dearly Beloved, thickens the room…
Why do all the times with you, come easy?
Hued and radiating
as light blurs the rest…
So clear from this repose,
From coins, highlighter, trampoline,
To burning trees, chasing nicotine in the cold
A team defeating drinking age limits with large pants,
And a face adorable to confuse and muddle,
Directions if you please?
Challenging cows, let florida sink! Bunnies aglow, building homes…
with sorcery, a fairy at the window,
causing panic to maintenance, chasing ghosts…
Was it us that built this wall?
Why…when it was so great, did the masked friends
Twist us, Dearly Beloved,
at noon…was it us? No, we were fooled.

“Spiders on the Moon”, (Vulcan Lullabies: Collection of Poetry)


Under a bashful moon: paths get swallowed,

Truth wilts in Luna’s glow,

elegance spins the maw of Anazi,

Violently meticulous, Voraciously graceful:

Attracting dreams requires more,

Patterns spin, and spin more: beautiful as a lullaby,

Confusion layers the garden of truth.
Dew drips. A trumpet bellow for the light!

Anazi says smooth as silk, “it was nature that gave untruth, the Wind said to spin this web, and all the dreams caught…came willingly!”
Spider, spider…..
When that web is swept away:
by nature’s gust of reality….

Will the  remember it at all? Night, Anazi, night is mine to keep:
Glowing once more…
Revel in the day of triumph, it comes rarely”

Illumination came behind golden sunbeams”
Dew heavy as Anazi, brought down the immaculate web.