The Vigilant Swing

A voice in permanence spoke lightly

My eyes gazed easily over the abstract district

Morning patterns

Dutifully aligned ‘neath night’s wakeful apathy

Stacked and fluttered before me

The very condition of a living thought

It’s thick existence temporarily dismounted

Afloat in fluttering winds

A winged conscience

Conscious of nothing but the reaction to

Random lines

Preclusion of certain madness perhaps

But in wider scopes of mood

   These casual stacks breed answers

There is more of reason

More to deception than just

A gloss in cornea here

Other things to reckon than hurled moments and certainly more than just the old midnight taps from spigots

 Disrupting this wakeful dream

I dared fathom what hands could create such testimony

As such that lay before me 

The shroud blazed in red stained ink

Monsters of treason crawling up from within

I chose my door skillfully and began to cut out the sounds

Like fish falling from a high dry puzzle they screamed to the floor

And the resonance scurried to hell

I could only vision the eye of poison that led me here

The coat that last I saw opening out through mist

The hiss of the street lamps

And my hands gaged eerily against their cause

I can neither describe nor interpret why I am still allowed such reveries

But in this end I know its’ a rub on the rings of descent

This disease to pathology keeps me ill

And with the raven shadows my page

Like a godly child I burn the curtains

Breathing deep

One last stack,  I promise the child

 Wishing in mind

A better noose of dream to sweep.

Reviews

[Marc Marlon Villaflor]

Love your style of writing keep it up!

[Kristallo]

A better noose of dream to sweep.... chillingly poignant final line, you have such a flair for ending your poetry with a bang. I loved everything about this. It was whimsical with an almost paranoid backdrop to it, ominous and deeply thoughtful. "But in this I know it's a rub on the rings of descent." Unfathomable. So great, I loved this dearly.

[Priscilla Sayers]

Your sorrow cuts me to the core my dear friend, especially when you know that I am here to see you through all troubled times. The Ravens continue to perch before me, their calls beckoning me and yet you remain only speaking in the tongue of Ravens. Find the light that I offer, the hand to pull you from the depths of darkness where you dwell alone. Do not stay there my friend. Express away but release as well.