far too crowded

27 Apr

no more room for privacy in this world

everybody is peeking over and in

and snapping pictures to post

far too crowded to be heard

far too crowded to be seen

so there’s no need to be embarrassed

when they’ve stolen all my clothes

my passwords and my phone

and sold them all on ebay

far too crowded to talk

far too crowded to walk

the only thing I can do

is stare at the little screen

and forget who I am or why I’m here

far too crowded to think about that now

The Red

26 Apr

I could spend many long days in the magnificent green

or lounge about the cool refreshing blue

if it were not for the red which rises

causing my eyes to flash and burn

some people suggested the sticky orange

it will help you grow up and out of this fear

although fear it can be, it is mostly a fierce desire

which leads me past the limits and deep into the red

if only I could court the yellow and bide my time

I could bask in my purple majesty till age takes it’s toll

but the red stakes it’s claim

and arrives without warning

such an intoxicating thrill to be burning

with such a flame which can never burn itself out

or so it seems from within

others see me fading slowly

grey into black

and try to warn

but in my secret playbook I see it written

all colors have their purpose

and none can be avoided for long

the fade to black comes to all

as does the return to white

which, for a time, remains just

out of our sight

I must treat my body fairly

25 Apr

Last night my stomach went on strike

and with all the shouting and the waving of signs

sticking me in the ribs

I couldn’t get to sleep

from how it felt, I think they lit a few fires as well

I must treat my body fairly

give it what it is due

for it works hard and for long hours

with no pay

Maybe today I will recall those signs

“No more salt! No more sugar!”

and try to satisfy a few of my stomach’s demands

after all

I may be the brains of this outfit

but my body can just shut it all down

at any time it chooses

the lone survivors

24 Apr

perhaps I am one of the lone survivors

whose wings were removed long ago

we flew to places where we were not allowed

we prided ourselves on breaking the rules

laid low by an ancient tyrant

whose own black wings could

cover up the sky

perhaps we are the lone survivors

who still feel as though we could rise

high up upon the breeze

and never come back home

but that was a very long time ago

hard to distinguish between memories

and dreams, when

you are no longer young and strong

out on the open range

23 Apr

I miss those lazy days

eyes squinting in the sun

out on the open range

grasshoppers jumping up in waves

attaching themselves to my back and legs

the grass is long and there is plenty of it

and later I know a shady spot

near a pond

where we can all relax and roll about

out on the open range so long ago

it felt like it could last forever

until the first arrows

and then the first shots

My hide was more valuable

than my life

a piece of me

22 Apr

a piece of me is out behind the Tasty Freeze

a piece of me is strolling out beside the cliffs at nigh

a piece of me is walking the busy streets

a piece of me is curled up in a warm little nook

a piece of me is crying out

a piece of me is sullen and quiet

a piece of me is smiling and feeling alright

a piece of me is flying out

soaring out

up into the clouds

out of control

a piece of me is living the high life

a piece of me is dying

not serious at all

21 Apr

life can be as light as a feather

in any kind of weather

it doesn’t matter whether

you are young or old

dark brown or beige

lounging about some tiny little island

not serious at all

life can be a puppy and a kitten

gazing up at you with trusting eyes

so warm and fuzzy, eager to eat

it doesn’t matter what tooth or claw

all tucked together on a tiny little island

not serious at all

not serious at all

was the message I received

from I know not where

a cartoon world

a pleasant dream

It’s enough to give you the willies

20 Apr

Midnight marches with torches

Cobalt blue banks with sigils for logos

the cat’s out of the bag and

climbing up my leg

it’s gives me the creeps

and robs me of my sleep

men in robes lurking beneath the lamp post

It’s enough to give you the willies

I think I’ve given up the ghost

I thought I was pretty clever I guess

but the way I feel this morning

I’m toast

My new blog

20 Apr


Synchronicity, hidden connections, lost knowledge, other worlds glimpsed in dreams or meditative states or reveries, such are twilight communications, the subject of this blog. There is a subtext to this world, a ‘twilight language’ designed to provide a link to information which cannot be communicated in a straight forward manner, but must be cloked in mystery and magick, parables and crime dramas. This is the twisted language of dreams, and poetry. This blog was inspired by a weird day, populated by zombies in search of an image, a word, that could somehow make a difference in their media drenched existence. I was noodling about the internet, finding unexpected connections between disparate events, when synchronicity struck it’s resonant bell, I responded with this new blog. I hope we can exchange twilight communications, you and I. Welcome. My new blog is twilightcommunications.wordpress.com. I hope you will check it out.


Originally posted on twilightcommunications:

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Giving in to shame

19 Apr

Giving in to shame

is like purchasing a ticket

for a seat upon a ghost train

in which everyone tries to cover

their nakedness, but only succeed

in covering their eyes, like children

believing they are now invisible

and the world is but a dream

Giving in to shame

is to play the devil’s game

of shame on you, shame on me

of cursing all that is human

as if we were born a mistake

and must hate ourselves

for it is only what we deserve

Giving in to shame

makes every desire a horror show

a nightmare from which we can’t awake


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