Mirage


Mirage

We peer as if behind delicate lace-work to soften
Need – weighted with a terrible tinge, puce maybe?
Whispering aches only heard by wall art
Behind cool darkened doors of solitude.

It appears in couched terms
Divulged in metaphor, spun in rhyme
Shrouded in lyrical prose; mirages no one sees but
All see, in this overcrowded desert of bodies.

Emperors all are we
Scribbling in our invisible clothes, startled
If spotted behind our woven illusion, when
A fellow wanderer drinks at our mirage to slake thirst

Relief echoes in vibrato, rapidly rushing
Shell of pretense cracked and shucked, into
The refuse bucket, delicate innards shimmer, anticipatory
And rush we, into shared weaknesses and frailty
-Need nestled against need.

~SMK
Inspiration: The life of writing.

Famished for Fall

Click below for a reading of “Famished for Fall”

Starving for crisp mornings and
Lessened heat in a place
That neither really ever happens
Leaves me famished for Fall.

Falls there might be,
From pedestals someone set
Me upon without my consent
Or, even my knowledge

Falls there might be
As I trip over unfinished business
Here, there, and also over there
Which I ignore with unwavering consistency

Falls there might be
From favor, from friendship
Even from someone’s vision
Which too, is the mutable nature of things

But I am famished for that change
Those autumnal dialogues whispered only for me
As the intimation of winter glances off my skin
Beguiling me with hints of promise among sunshine,

-Leaves me hungering.

~SMK

Inspiration: Too much heat and too long away from four seasons.

Sweet Nothings – recorded and penned 2014

Sweet Nothings

Click below to hear the reading

 

I can build air castles on the most gossamer of foundations

Turn a look into a lifetime,

Freeze frame a moment and stretch it into eternity

Where we never grow old, cranky or away from each other

 

I can draw from imagination stores most active

Off the cuff words in passing

Take that phrase spoken in haste

Create the rest of the conversational lifespan in my mind

 

Active, creative minds can be boon or bane

Giving life to things that don’t exist

Overwriting the reality of things as they are

Constantly writing a story that lives only in one head

 

I will swallow you whole, savoring every taste of you

But, is the flavor on my tongue your real taste?

Or… is it a confection I created from

Only the fleeting aroma of your presence

 

And when I stop, and step out of my imagination

Hot, harsh reality blares its eyes at me

Then rolls them, and sighs

Sweet nothings – that is all they were, in the end.

 

~SMK

Inspiration: A doppelganger affair in my head.