Mermahuarter

Through the forest in the deep dank he emerges forth. Pushing over steep rocks, eyes gray with age and wear, his ragged cloven hands grasp at thoughts he once knew before. He runs, one bound covering three of yours or mine. Planting his feet solidly between exposed roots and moss covered rocks. Any item that is unlucky enough to fall beneath his step is crushed into the soft ground, broken. The trees whisk past him in a blur. Hot air heaves out of his lungs, ripping over a sharp dry tongue. Sweat runs from his brow to chin, soaking the wirey gray beard that hangs below his square jaw.

He stops to catch some breath. The muscles around his ribs pulling the cool air deep into his lungs, and with it the scent of earth and bark. Cocking his head to one side he listens to the forest sounds around him. Letting his sense reach out he catches a southern breeze flowing up the slopes which he has just climbed. On it the rhythm and scent of the ocean, rich and full of home. But also with it comes the sounds of faint cries, the spit as flames fall to the damp ferns below, and the ugly screech of metal on metal. These are the sounds of what follows him. His eyes blaze, full of anguish, he sighs and then with the bows of the near by trees bending to him he bellows, a fierce instinctual roar rips from his throat, silencing the once busy forest life around him. He then, without another thought lunges on, upwards to the mountains, a trail of broken limbs and silence left behind him.

One More.

There is a place inside these walls,
With lens flare bright on every filament
Mists swirl up and pretties the plain.
What little there is to return to.
A once proud lion wrestles on the floor with another
For there is no time, only false cover.

Ebb flows to the side with lost balance
on turns of the relieved.
Hips teeter in motion above spins on the heel,
And laughter imbibes across the worn wood.
Language would give away if eyes falter,
Casual hands do waver, making inner moths flutter.

Dapper hot ginger sings in throats
coarse with voice, slick with lyric.
Talk of the confident, whispers of confidante.
Nursing light into creased faces
The bright fire makes soot
And the tables legs have grown sunken roots.

Wit quick tongues roll with spit and
Saliva is left on the rim of bitters.
The room heaves with a warm disregard.
You will have just one more,
Chorus mouths closed on the jar.
Smooth rumblings stir at the bar.

Mermahuarter

The night breeze wisps across the ocean, sending salty spray towards the pitch shores. A favourable current pushes him swiftly on, towards this new geography. Following the waves he passes inside a spit of land that juts out into the big blue, sheltering the coast from the often vengeful tides. Once inside these calmer waters he pauses, bringing his eyes above the ripples to take in the unfamiliar scene.

He tastes the smoke from fires, and sees the light from windows, set in weather beaten houses with their wooden shutters and thick stone walls. He can hear muffled voices. Straining his ears he cannot pin point the sound, a poignant memory now, that caused his slow beating heart to shudder in awe so far out to sea. What creature had rendered him helpless against this new iron will to seek it out. He has to know what brought him, or rather what pulled him, so forcefully towards the flickering bright lights nestled within the still bay. He will seek it out and satiate the new need that has upset his once solid course.

Closed

Through dried tears,
find salt lines down pale translucent cheeks.

Under a worry bitten lip,
Blood moves slow and thick.

In anguished eyes,
wide with no change to the light,
Find blindness.

Between clenched teeth, and the tense skin of a jaw set,
Find a tongue chewed down.

Find silently trapped in scull, a mind,
Ravaging war on sensibility, for all its lack of purpose.

Closed over the hearts painful aches,
Find numbness
and nothing, in totality.

Momentary

Sensation pins me to the sky.
Aching breaths arc with anticipation.
Lungs barrelled high against ribs,
Muscles twitch expectantly at finger tips.
Joy in the minds eyes gaze.
The wanting and the waiting is passing,
Breath, blood and beat left behind
no longer necessity.
The being blazed creating eternity.
Encapsulated in one momentary piece.
Coursing through, rejoicing beyond.
To suffer is divine.
To not want, or need, sublime.

Always shall I be
The only that is me.
Bound in love
Closed through life
I will not see to be the one.
Forever shall I always be.

Mermahuataur

Through the forest in the deep dank he emerges forth. Pushing over steep rocks, eyes grey with age and wear, his ragged cloven hands grasp at thoughts he once knew before.