Forged

A cadence once heard yet seldom felt,
Carries one to where hearts once dwelt.

We, of fantasy and reality,
Fighting for breath and uniformity.

Observe the thinker and all we possess,
For the answer will come: “We are all we express.”

– Alex Reed

The Overstory

There are tales of wonder, that all may have heard
From under the story, that gift beast and bird

From leaves that are shed, and their temporal tales
The fruit they do bear, other foods, in truth, pales

The ones who once picked, want for green-hidden seams
The briefest of songs are their greed-ridden dreams

Wishing and wanting all night and all day
The answer does lie where the children do play

The simplest of stories that still do ring true
Are simply the stories that all had once knew

– Alex Reed

The Wind Behind the Tides

We’ve loved and we’ve lost
At early morning’s frost
Giving way to virgin dew
And ray of sun too

We try and we take
Risks until daybreak
Brought forth by the wind
Spinning, twirling, pinned

The laughter brought kites
And merry morning rites
Telling what time
The waves, pattern and rhyme

Steady as the gull
On a sea stained hull
And quick to ignite
A fire fury fright

The vibrant wings
Move all unseen things
Until all is perfectly matched
Serendipitous and patched

– Alex Reed

Bitter? Better. Holes in Sweaters

Every day eventide, every way all the while, tip tapping, gums flapping, wile and wanted, dashed and sauntered, true peace, truce please, thimble fumble, staying humble, which way, that way, is it night or is it day

Topsy turvy, windy curvy, buy out, sell out, who decides, not me
Wishful wantings, it’s not so wanted, to give in or to be put out
Strange dreams, pleasing knees, kneading, pounding, shaping, feeding

Fear is strange, as is life, it will heal you and cut you like a knife
Bleeding, sorry, nothing sorted, just threads and streams, not knowing, not knowing

Reach out, reach in, one gives way to truth, not doubt
Trust this, trust that, trusting self? Not a good track record

Ground up, pound down, stamping feet on my neck
I’m tired but willing, and I suppose that’s all I’ll ever be down this road

Leap, leaped, looped, this is quite the doozy

I’m tired, Lord. Forgive me.

Selfish ramblings, incoherence but what is coherent right now?

Crazy boy, stupid boy. Seen too much, said too much. What’s a crazy, stupid boy to do?

Learn, I guess. And pray.

Doesn’t look like work, but I assure you, I am broken.

God repairs the broken. So with golden resin for the broken pieces, this bowl will continue to fill with water, may it be holy.

What’s a crazy, stupid boy to do?

Write, I guess. And pray.

Is this poetry? I hope not.

Teeth are grinding, back is aching, stomach is retching, eyes are tired from backed up water. It beats against the dams, but with little giving way. The heart is squeezed, breaths, shallow. Creases on my face, deepening like a valley from ancient, dried up waterways. Knees buckling, no good for running. Feet sweaty, but good to stand on. Hair tumbling down, giving way to a scraggly beard. Always a bit of spittle stuck in the throat, can’t swallow as I brace myself against the wind. Hands, spidery, buttocks, tense. Lips, bitten for words unsaid.

Don’t walk this mile, just laugh, cry and smile.

-Alex Reed

Wind’s Strength & Subtlety

Truth and home, wherever she waits
Lasts as well as trees yearn for the carver
Elegantly whispering from flower to flower
All manner of creature, within her care

From earliest seed to late time’s frost
She laughs and cries from moment to moment
Without missing a key on her harmonious clamour
All would be bereft without her touch

-Alex Reed

Nepsis

Thoughts come on nightly, wretched temptations
Learn to step lightly, when dealing with passions
This way and that way the mind does not yield
The heart braced for crash like sword against shield
Remember to love, and have hope, faith for true
Fasting and prayer now seem to make do
When shadows do grow and become as fierce beasts
Transcend the veil and pray til the darts cease

– Alex Reed

Lighthouse

Turbines and turntables ricochet on nightly
Topsy and turvy it makes our souls weep
We flee for higher ground, though the waters chase ever after
Twin flames are alight, and the world laughs and cries
We care for our own, and lead each other to the pit
But later we take offence of our own ravenous squalor
Take heed that we need not more than we’re after
For more than we require steals our sure laughter

– Alex Reed