Birds of Paradise

Fine grey skin
Housing feeble bones
Sharp and light
Ivory needles
Concealed in humble form

Meek creatures hiding below
Fearful of light
Breathing stale air
As it cycles through generations
Never to roam

We are bound
Chained to the selfish earth
Her muddled trophies
Of simple times
Though not for long

Pilfer the horizon
Pluck from it hueful plates
Diaphanous armor
Vibrant and defiant
Of the vague tones below

The spectrum of feathers
Donned the spectral defector
As they float free
The envious fellows below
Lie in our prismic shadows

From freedom hatches light
From light, truth
and from truth, love
So our flock grows
The dance eclipsing the sky

As the shade returns
You and I drift down
Wings too aged to fly
From out feathers we build a home
Our grey skin now cradled within a rainbow nest
With vivid memories disguised as dreams
Of when we were
Birds of Paradise



Though not to be lost in my arms
Such frail forms
One’s longing to end

For me she defined grace
Not of faith
But of wit and temperance
Oh, passionate heathen

Mind of diamond
Such that the edges reflect
Countless reflections within

Only to be cut by her own
Her tenacious heart
Greatest weakness and strength
Luster never to be compared

Jeweled not only in spirit
But too in her form
One so sharp and angular
Yet at a touch, so tender

To have her around
Laid in warm gold
Such that dreams meet her
For she has always been the crux of mine

Though she fades like my vision
Distance defying definition
I, the silent victim of a roving soul
Densely shimmering, but never to be held
May she find her place
Far off
Among the stars in the sky



Possibly mirage
Yet never truly known
As such
Is the nature of eyes

Perhaps longing
Or perhaps truthful
Never to dilate
For a handsome stranger

As some eyes drift
Others focus
On trust set ablaze
Their heart
Old kindling
Given long ago
Now unrecognizable
Fragile layers of ash
Left to the weather

Rational minds
With young eyes
Holding illusions
And fortunes
Floating through violet water
Succinct verdicts
Pressed to plastic glass
There will be nothing for you here



A mature mind
But a young heart
An old soul
With a passionate smile
To listen to my jokes
And bring silence to my sadness
Worldly ambition
Yet relishing in rainy days
And soft crooning serenades
Such a specific solution
Equal parts wit and simplicity
Equal parts mind and matter
Serve to the lovesick loner
Too drowned on weaker tonics
To pour themself a fresh glass
Of the cure to what ails them



I’m looking for the key to my kite
The conductor calling to lightning
While I’m on earth
Waiting to be energized or executed

Not to be used for unlocking
Some chest said to hold more
When all is before us already
But rather to lock close
The humble box
Of memories
Both bitter and sweet
And all things betwixt



They made me feel like I’m broken
A silent old clock
Best left to the dust of stagnation
In some attic somewhere
With a razor thin glimmer of light
Just falling short

A crack in the roof
Boundless sunlight on my back
Yet from my mouth
Only brief glimmers come forth
Weeping of weather
Gusting with sorrow

Maybe I am broken
Meant to wait for repairs
Though perhaps
I’d be lazily patched
Gutted for parts
Or disposed of altogether



Wrapping her arms around me
I can feel her skin
Cool on my back
As her lustful hands
Cross my heart
And compress my chest
I don’t resist, nor would I ever
As I’m pulled to the floor
To lie in the grass
The gravity of her demands upon me
In the coils of a serpent
A flicking silver tongue
And apple perfume
She’ll bite with her soft toxins
Her memory slowing my pulse
Then she’ll shed her skin
And be gone
And should I amputate
Or suck out the venom
I know she’d find me again
In some dark room
When I’m at my loneliness
And she’s at her hungriest