Objects without a story

Not lionized or accursed, not a source of wisdom or song

Objects without a story, unburdened with sentiment; devoid of outward interest, lacking a beginning and charm

Pitiable and stagnant, awaiting their decaying epoch, as no roving eyes pause upon them, disabused of desire

Resigned to dwine in their shadowed box unbidden

They abrade no memory’s surface, yet steadfastly collect the dust of ages, and ash of bridges

They neither twitch a lip to herald a smile, nor stitch a brow to presage a justified frown

They are nothing in the overwhelming nothingness

No one remains to inquire, no one qualifies to respond; unrecollected, she exists; an object awaiting

Begging of her breath to halt its march; pleading with the rose to wilt with her prose

Lest she be forced to remember herself

art: void of non-existence by Peterio

Spaces

He paces throughout this prison,
barred by the abandoned spaces,
only remnants of remembrances,
naught remaining in periphery

breathing subject to parsimony,
being always reticent to continue,
heaviness of heart to aching joints,
he can’t embrace the empty spaces

rather he zealously oppugns reality,
avoids the missing yet not unseen,
at the mercy of the vacant spaces,
caged by the enclosing nothingness

his stride transports him memoriter,
closing his eyes affords a wider view,
the vast open space of the eigengrau,
graces him with anamnesis anew

art: Nigredo – Morgenthau by Anselm Kiefer

Wasted words

He writhes and tries beneath
the watchful oaken knots bleeding
down the panderous wooden doors

They silently listen to his silence, but
react only to the tumult of enamourous
heartbeats behind their truer sides

Imperfections in the window panes
warp his warped view of the painful
imperfections he’s been shown

Dissecting his reflection, and others
he sees through, his features don’t
stand out amidst the banal amalgam

Staring stolen daggers into his wasted
words, reloaded from the broken back
he no longer turns, leaned on too often

Wooden man swallowing the knots in
his throat, deafened to the rapturous
fracas chiding his sensibilities

Insincere gratitudes, obligatory read
throughs, misplaced attitudes to fill
their waiting pews

Alas, he left no daggers for himself,
so must step into the fray, and release
anew more wasted words

art: Circumcision by Jackson Pollock

Mystical

Love, a spellbinding; when then
the incantations abruptly end;
what remains is the shockwave

of a mystical ensorcellment
nettling an atavistic hunger to
consume that which is beyond

the comprehension of the charmed;
an addiction to the enchantment
who answers no worship, obeys

no ritual, and rewards no sacrifice;
it grants only the illusion that
those engagements may unleash

the bewitching magic once again

art: Deliberation by Mario Sanchez Nevado

Ragdoll

See the words it writes, interest piqued
What says things such as this, in this way
Tentatively, first from afar, engage this
Ragdoll
Watch it, jab it, pick it up for examination
Unabashed, no concern for ramification
Curiosity overwhelms, it’s such an unusual
Ragdoll
Does it communicate, try it, see what happens
It does! Its responses are friendly and playful
How and why does it then write that way, this
Ragdoll
Ask it some questions, it’s polite, if not evasive
Even asks them back, interest piqued
Confused, don’t know what to make of this
Ragdoll
What is it thinking, is it alive, does it think so
Does it want to be, why does it project sorrow
Toys should be easier to play with than this
Ragdoll
Dead end, time waster, hurts these wandering eyes
Bored, but there’s a pretty picture over there
Don’t need to think; it can’t feel anyway, this
Ragdoll
Use it for parts, but leave the hearts, and energy
Toss it aside, can’t be helped, can’t be bothered
A broken plaything, it’s not like all the other
Ragdolls

Forsaken by

Forsaken by love
Forsaken by woe
Forsaken by friend
Forsaken by foe

Forsaken by goodness
Forsaken by badness
Forsaken by sanity
Forsaken by madness

Forsaken by dream
Forsaken by living
Forsaken by nightmare
Forsaken by giving

Forsaken by everything
Forsaken by one thing
In the end I’ll be
Forsaken by nothing