Rust and Ruin

There's a breeze blowing on me

It's whistling songs into my ear

I can hear all my memories

But I can't hold on to anything

I took a walk last Saturday

without ever leaving my home

I thought of you coming through my door

And then I woke from a dream

I've been tumbling down empty streets

Avenues trimmed with rust and ruin

Leaning against tall buildings

I used to play it down, now it's coming round

I used to shake it off, now it's shaking me

There's a breeze blowing through the trees

All my nerves go nerve goes weak

And I go down

to the middle and the surface below
to the trembling streets all torn apart

Down to the trouble ringing out like a siren

Down to the pressure and its folding me properly

I've been tumbling down empty streets

Avenues trimmed with rust and ruin

Leaning against tall buildings

I'm trying to hold on but everything's crumbling

Mountain

The Sun rises over the bluff
And the clouds roll out in mass
I'm aiming for the top
I'm looking through the glass
Heaps of tangled rock
A hindrance on the range
One day I'm going to do it
One day I'm going to change

These alps are crystalline
And white throughout the boundary
I'm not floating in the frame
I'm climbing up the barricades
I can feel I'm at the brink
I see it around the corner
It's drifting closer to me
Then it curtains and retreats

The Sun sets in the valley
And the rains starts to go down
There's a silence on every bank
Widening the horizons gate
I will lay down in that crevice
Press my feet into the dirt
Will my compass cease it's surging
When I send it back to Earth?

We used to be friends
But you don't ask about me
You only talk about yourself
Walk amongst yourself
Take everything for yourself
Its you you you
So have it all
Take all you want
It's free
And In the end
We're nothing
No hard feelings

Some enjoy the drag
the pushing, the shoving
all the talking, the need to please,
their heads under a heavy thumb.
It kills me, the monotony of it all.
I enjoy repetition only in little bits
And sometimes the idea of a regular routine
Actually sounds appealing.
But I am, as I have finally accepted,
am more animal than man.
And animals must be free
without demand or need, but
with pure instinct.
I do take what I want.
I do eat when I hunger.
And this animal hungers
for more than sweet meats
for more than bitter herbs
and plain vegetation.
This beastly, hybrid spirit
seeks liberation.
Liberation of the soul
Liberation of the mind
Liberation of the cold
gritty construct of modernity
and all his economic pressures.
Perhaps scarcity of solitude
pushes this animal on.
For it's very sweet when we have our cave
to ourselves.
And far sweeter when we have the right company
to share within solitude.
But the dog needs not a human.
The cat needs not to be harassed.
The animal needs another animal
with just the right instincts.
A similar reflex for all freedoms.
The taste for inhibited lust.
Yes, some people enjoy the drag,
the pushing, the shoving.
I enjoy the quiet
the stillness
In solitude

Do I show up everyday
Knocking at your door?
Are you always waiting
with open arms?
I do let myself fall into
the mystery of you,
only sometimes like
when I was a child.
I'm older now,
a little more grey
and my heart has learned a thing or two.
Those lessons of the heart,
which are sometimes so swift
yet often so lengthly strung
from romance to romance
are but independent threads
wrapping and weaving the soul.
This blanket of life, this veil, this
pillow
starts only from a thread
whom needs steady hands to help guide.
And they show up everyday
knocking at my door.
Am I always waiting with open arms?