Foxholes

My missing fox-soul searched,
Far from foxholes flooded;
Faux Moon muzzle-mud observed,
Drizzle cubs cold-blooded.
Her vulpine veins saponified,
Her den reborn inverted,
My hair aflame personified
One less soul converted.
Refrain a sale, saint to ermine,
Daylight’s dearth, unearthly bowl;
Something singing for your soul
For longer life determined.

Gravitate

You gravitate towards
A sadder song,
Ended the being
Where you would not belong,
Hurts to return
And hurts to move on;
Autopilot, Rubicon.

Sometimes, insurmountable
Are these feelings
To survive
An eggshell minute;
To contemplate
Is too much pain,
This world without you
Fingerprinting
Permissible limits.

Sadder, yes,
For if only you lived
To know the joy
In light you sought
And thought beyond
All your perceptiveness,
All your intelligence,
Instead, permeated and bled,
Permeates to this day
With all such grace
And truly intangible poise
Of miracles, abundantly
Transfusing through
Everything we did and yet can do,
In this safely stored-up knowledge
Would you still have demurred,
The abdicator absconded.

Wreaking

I hope my deadening soul
Wreaks havoc on them all,
I wrote then to my shogun.

He replied, may I surmise
That life is for the living?
I disputed his wisdom,
And held my breath in my hands,
And spoke alone without reply
That I am unforgiving.

My forehead is a wintry beach;
Slower than a ghost proposed,
Boat-bells sombre in the fleet.

When battalions disembark nearby,
Enfranchised and embittered,
They won’t disturb the dreaming folk
While scarring Hope with scissors.

A single cuttlefish appeared in blue,
I stared into her inky liver,
Then just as sharply darted by,
Bloodied and barely delivered.

Valedictions

Valedictions for you,
We do not accede;
Valedictions for you,
Nor do we recede;

None superseded,
None to subscribe,
No more spun your wool
For pulling our eyes;

No souls contorting
For far-faulted causes,
No more conforming
Under horse-trammeled forces.

Valedictions for you,
No longer we thrive,
Only lessons unlearned
For liars survived.

In Memoriam

Corridor necessities
Amid vomitoria policies,
A mind in memoriam;
For benches searched
Or even Delphic creeds
Though every turn
Fired memories
Across my synapses,
And how they burned;
I may never achieve
That Field of Reeds
Across the frightening river,
When reason is deserting
And yesteryear still hurting,
Irony is shaped by
Hephaestos beserkly
Hammering my soul
Once golden and yet
Now smouldering,
Malleable, and dirty;
With each strike he sang
A weapon for a war we lost
Before conscription started.

Someone stole the show
While, in cells below I waited;
So I write, not to remember
But instead, to purge, forget,
And now is nothing,
Is all I have left.

Azalea Eyes

I am resigned into being
Terrified by Time,
A body ageing before my life,
Tendrils thwarting limbs entwined,
Elongating through nostrils
Conducive to a waking mind.

With azalea eyes
This day is the same day
As forever and a moment;
The contents, mostly illusory,
Dilatory, dissatisfies;
We sometimes see a fleeting glimpse
In passing of what would later
Become dislodged
And permanently broken,
Acknowledging all we always knew
But which was never spoken.