Do you hear that stomping? My giant was asleep for so many years you forgot his potential. I urge you to make preparations. He is coming for you. One thing is certain. He is very hungry.
Life, i take from you this one favor. When you cut me, make it deep and to the bone. For this blood drips a royal standard. It flaps high in the wind above drums deep and pounding. My will is an army desperate to plunder. Let your strongest king push me off this mountain. Watch my desire claw its ugly way back to the top.
Life, let your sun burn my face as they lounge under umbrellas. Watch me squirm and sweat as I swing my machete through your thickest jungle. I will find your sacred temple through pain and laughter. My pendulum swings far and heavy as it swaths through your world. And when you send death to fetch me, may it gulp at the thought of taking me down.
Monday, February 9, 2009
In this skin i feel my music. In this skin i know my face. It's not a canary caressing a sonnet. But more like a crow beneath fog's sweaty cape. My crackling caw is gruff on arrival. Grasping at branches long since forgotten, and shake loose my story from the bottom of the gullet. I sound the call of life with my throat to heaven gaping. Loud, gruff, stubbly, and obtuse. This is my song, i am its valley. But even the thorn makes a lasting impression. And what is one's life but its effect on others? My body is a tiny pebble, and this life a ripple through the fabric of forever.