A life well-lived & the perpetual realms of yonder


Inevitably, your moments of; heartache, and, jubilation, sorrow, and, raucous laughter, will be momentary brushstrokes, of humanising colour, on an eternal, universal, canvas. It does not matter, if, post-use, your sapient, vehicular, corpus is; burnt, buried, or, embalmed. Every; thought, behaviour, and, action, made, in all conscience, must be accounted for, on your soul’s departure, from Gaia.


Just as, an ancient, Egyptian heart, must weigh, equal to, or, less than, the sacred feather of Ma’at. And, St. Peter’s keys, will only allow entrance, to the righteous, at the pearly gates, of the kingdom of heaven. The bearer of the soul, has, not only the mystical responsibility, but, the metaphysical obligation, and, duty, to be; morally and intrinsically: good.


Goodness is paramount to a clean conscience, and, more importantly, a clean soul. Spiritual; cleanliness, wholesomeness, and, goodness, are imperative, in order for the soul to continue, peacefully, on it’s supranatural journey, along the Milky Way, and, onto, the perpetual realms of yonder.


And, when, all is said, and, done, as your life, in all it’s ubiquity, magically, propels before you – like a feature film, or, flip-book, composed of; your natural essence, transfigured by, the shifting sands of time – will you be pleased with, how you; formed opinions, treated others, and, lived your life?


Or, will your soul, be burdened by; sin, loathing, and, regret? Forced to recount, every; hateful decision, every misinformed opinion, and, every missed opportunity, to form healthy human, and, spiritual bonds?


Your familial bloodline, and, genetics, may carry forth, or, they may not – that is, ultimately, out of your control. Yet, your opportunity to contribute, as many beautiful brushstrokes, to this; galactic masterpiece, as your life permits, is perfectly, within your grasp. And, in contributing with good; heart, mind, and, conscience, you enable your soul’s interstellar travel, to the stars; smooth, succinct, and, better yet, truly astounding.


All bonds, of virtue, that bind, righteously, will endure armageddon – not only, sororal, and, fraternal.
Your body, will grow, languid, and, old, but, if wholesome, your soul, will spring eternal.
And, while your body, may be, lost at sea, cremated in flames, or buried within Earth’s crust.
Your before, your presence, and, your beyond, are, permanently crafted, by the moulded creation, of life, in stardust.



The purest vengeance of all


To triumph over adversity, is to know, the purest vengeance of all. For, those who doubted, ridiculed, disbelieved, gossiped about and wronged you, are forced to realise, that:
they were wrong.
Nothing needs to be said, nor, interaction had. Yet, there is; a secret, smiling jocund, a humble, solemn joy, a discreet, soulful jubilance = in knowing that; the universal scales are, once more, balanced, and, true justice is restored.



Step into the Light


To stand. In the shadows.
Of greater men
-talities;
opaquely.
Unbeknownst of the burden.
Carried; within a silhouette;
of gleaned knowledge.


Dusky, sagely tonnage,
makes cerebra; camel-shaped. Combusting broken, humpy backs.
Ignited; under straw, sewn, skins.
By matchsticks, of sparked duress.


A fire then, lifts, in a burning rage,
courtesy of, camel’s corpse;
showing; Death, is only the beginning; of enlightenment.
And, from; great tribulation, great pain, great loss. Cometh; infinite wisdom.


The miles travelled, within a, fleshed vessel, are;
a measure of;
insignificance…
Within; the Creator’s multiverse.
Just as, the bacterium’s rotating filament is;
unnoticeable, trivial, paltry,
to mankind’s eye.


A soul has no need to walk,
only, to be, an impetus,
for, the light, or, the dark.
A journey to the realms of infinity, beckons.
And, a destination;
unknowingly preordained.
Leaving; an unbeaten path; of universal footprints.


Fantasies of “soundly asleep“


If I dissolved the universe

for a cup of joy,

or, a sip of worth,

would your own thirst; desert, destroy?

Waive away wet debtor’s curse?


If I had wings; angelic and divine,

to float across

this great divide,

would the final approach be a gainful loss?

Pinion clipped and cropped;

by fortune’s perennial pain inside.


If I weaved you fabric journeys

from my textile dreams,

could you knit me back together?

Fix these broken seams?

If those silk and satin sojourns

of vivid;

reds, blues, yellows, greens,

became moth eaten

by their endeavour,

or, no longer serene,

could you fill the gaps

of what goes in between?


Or, would you crumble and crack,

like my fantasies of “soundly asleep”?

Living through a nightmare’s lens;

of perpetual black,

soundtrack; my innermost screams.


Babylonian Cheeks


Cheesy moon at midnight pings

it’s beams down

upon a colourful commonplace town

pavement shimmering with blood and teeth

policemen oinking hearty.


Slipping

upon ripe banana skin

the fall – opens the flesh

fracturing bone

but, also, opening minds

coincidentally

courage

could never before

see our age

unified and advantageous.


– black and yellow meets red and white –


A wasp with great insight stings

a shrieking clown

his big lipstick smile made into a deathly frown

pass the parcel and the EpiPen, please,

at a child’s birthday party.


Foraging the dark arts

bold and free; golden,

exiting the mental metal cage

with toughened knuckles

and white-hot sharpened senses

ready to redden

Babylonian cheeks

angrily

in a manner

most outrageous.


Thirty-three.


Misfortune favoured

by a coward

gets emboldened by

imagined

acts of bravery,

paralleling,

when freedom is

attributed, scoured

then soldered, wry,

universally enshackled,

to the liberty of slavery.


A leaden head

of melancholy

wearing

suffering’s shawl

of crusty grime

became

a body of water’s

shopping trolley,

disappearing,

in that shoal

of rusting time.


Castigating memories

lie deeply

and contorted,

misshapen

inside that meshy box.

Untrustworthy,

this hill of discontent,

rising steeply;

geography unreported,

as the corpse’s lips;

kissed the fleshy rocks.


Tenebrous Crow


“You haven’t done anything with your life.”


grasping once more

at bedecked self-worth

but the grip

slips

oil slicks

betwixt

mental palm and moral fingertips;

should i show my hand?

stick or twist?


“What is wrong with you?”


dark matter

is my only ally

when faced with terror

because

i can’t do anything else

can i?

hollow laughter

leaves enough space

to crawl inside and wear;

a straitjacket of cajolery

sad eyes


“You could have done so much better.”


this tenebrous crow

a constant reminder

cawing – slow

perched atop

my shoulder

peering deep into my soul;

cavernous hole

to cavernous hole


“Such a waste.”


To be understood


If within your lifetime

you can use a clock, digit or a hand

to count this life’s time

objectively

when you truly understand…


You haven’t lived,

only breathed.


To live racily in life’s slower moments

is a prize that is totally unrivalled;

Neigh-sayers. Those jockeying opponents

are trampled

under hoof, when you ride unbridled.


In the future there will be others

passing eyes over; your words,

your offspring, your pictures, your lovers.

Voyeurism

through the abstract lens of the absurd.


In the cave of your existence

lives your depths, your thoughts, your mud

a gift of solitary, temporary presence

that is you.


And, what isn’t;

to be understood.


Scattered Scions


And as that outward blowing breath

scatters floating seeds of dandelions

my thoughts of birth and life and death

coalesce among the scattered scions.


For what is now has always been

and will return from future passing –

the sight of what remains, unseen;

your loss – not lost – but everlasting.


This life has now come to a close

and we reminisce on all your giving

a beacon bright bursts through morose

your shining light that lifts our living.


As we send you on your next new journey

we cherish those fond memories

we take a clutch and grasp them firmly

where you live on; in our reveries.


Envy


I’ve seen a man

so consumed by envy

that his jealous heart consumed

his mind

his soul

and everything

he ever could be.


When you covet another’s life,

success,

belongings or

in this case wife –

you become a bitter container

filled with green bilious

acrimony

spending hate-filled hours

to keep that bubbling

poison on retainer.


They say it is better to have loved and lost

but if you have never loved at all –

have you even lived?

No star-crossed

lover or Shakespearean romance,

no first kiss let alone first dance..


Just a sad excuse for actions

that are always centred on a loss

you never had

and a sense of selfish pity

that leaves a feeling of disdain

because

inside you’re left

wondering what it really feels like

and where the chance to grasp a real love

ever

really

once

was.


And, as that green bilious acrimony

bubbles away in its container

it eats away at what is lonely

and devours the remainder.

Leaving nothing but dysfunction –

a stab-wound without a knife –

leaving nothing but destruction

in what was once a living life.