Give me the sky
And I will soar
Among the mighty clouds

Grant me the wind
And I will fly
Beneath the radiant sun

Dare me to dance
And I will learn
Upon a golden lit stage

Lend me an ocean
And I will sail
Farther than the tides

Make me a promise
And I will trust
Grasping to it forever

Bring me a melody
And I will write
Stringing lyrics by starlight

Join me in life
And we will laugh
Finding joy side by side

Wuthering secrets of long past times
Forgotten romances of heartened crimes.
Christening crinkles twilling frosted echoes atop damped dervishes of your fragile mind.

Shelling out are withering bones of decaying, eternal, mindless vines.
Encasing slithery crevices eradicating dusted  wintered shadowed lines.

Binding the sainted ****** where upon the shore of gloried day breaks of the lost door.
Listen to the howls of the wind--
as all of creation stirs about & about
Never the less, simply this.
To again, never to.

Driven off the cliff of insanities thrills unto the shivers of the unrested, splintered and torn.
Forevermore, oh how dreadful!
Namelessly unplaced, vacantly ashamed! Lonely and untamed, gratefully kept at bay!

There's something majestic, yet also extremely gloomy, about a streetlight at night in the rain. Something, some unplaced dimension within the echoing cars and within the particles of water, as they spray...into oblivion*

Mother, do you recall that rainy day?
The day my gumboots soaked through,
I beleive we were waiting for a bus. It was one of those city rains, when all you could dream of was home or the warmth and comfort. When all you wanted was a bath and hot-chocolate or another item of food, steaming with love. Mother, I remember holding to you're body for warmth as we sat under that old wooden bus shelter.
I clung to you're body and melted into you're lingering scent, you're falling breath and you're human form.
You held me, you hid you're shivers so as to warm mine.
We watched the cars spray etheral mist into the orange lights of the city.
We watched lovers rush by under umbrellas, we watched rain curve down the cement like a snake on it's own journey.
We listened,
oh did we ever listen, we ate up the noise, the stories within the rain, we cuddled until we felt the warmth from our bellies rise out of us like smoke or a dragons breath, tainting the air.

I, you're daughter. You, my mother.

You're long hair curling down your breast. Me, like a little berry scrunched up as close to you as I could get. Like our bodies would drip into each other as one, our breath the same. Only my gulps of air came much sooner and you silently resisted my subtle games. When the huddling was done you reached out to me with you're strong hands and you led me along the night of echoes. I can't remeber much else, asides from sitting with you in the empty pizza shop as we both savoured and satisfied our cravings for comfort. Cold-handed laughter as we danced over the most delectable pizza.
Then we caught the bus home, you sat on the red leather, grabbing the creamy yellow bar, I jumped onto the ratty blue seat beside you and leaned once again into you're body, melting into sweet harmonies.
Eating in the sounds of humans and the sound of the bus, splashing through water
and journeying on through the deep
and endless city night.

plea of oddities: bring the tinkling back
its bell lies silent


1.
Existing (not entirely) alone
entertaining itself with nightmares witnessed from long ago
It waited and waited
until the neighbour-orb grew to a level sophisticated enough
to house that lovely assortment of fine specimens.. of females
       that flock of dusted-crystals so long dreamt of
       that mould of sensibility, that plug of warmth
       that banner of softness
which all mirrored the opposite of their ways


2.
they fled in quiet-rebellion from inhospitable hands of the boor-males
altogether, in a ship.. down into the bowels of their breaking planet
subtleties long abandoned by the barbed-wire handling of  rough hands
these gentles could take no more and *uncoupled themselves for good
burning, like the bridges behind them
               they disconnected and slid into a nether-sphere

When the males woke in stupor to find them gone
                 they flipped and fed in anger
and with access to goodness gone and unplaced voracious appetites
It decided to encase them.. in a giant glass-jar, preserving them in ire
until the time was right.. like a tea awaiting perfect steeping
In stasis, they remained for what seemed aeons
the glass-jar which held this army of men, was reduced
became small, like a coin.. which Foog summarily swallowed
and waited . . .  


3.
The sun turned its face in blank-horror of severe sights
                                                               splayed across the surface
forests shrank to toothpicks and died
         blue seas curled and dried
                                 meadows melted to greyish slush
every flying creature lost gravity and got ****** away, too high..
                                                        into harsh deafening-holes
when the tall sentries of oxygen.. twisted and became wiry-distorted
the sky sank and folding itself up.. hid in a black corner
                               behind the crumbling mountains

Foog hid beneath a crater made of ice, on the dark side of said planet
and once every millennium
        it felt the colliding-smack of a passing planetessimal
and it swore that somewhere, somehow..
        that punishment awaited new life

So, it shut its senses to the bay of life
       while hankering viciously for the scream of warm blood
The bell-jar inside, silent and
                        also somehow.. obscenely waiting in its oblivion



4.
Then, came Earth spinning round in flourish.. oh, the day on hand
Yet, veryyyyy far away.. an eye slowly opened
                      / /  roused by the smell of fressshhh life . . . / /



5.
A popping sound and the bell-jar was birthed from a slit on its forehead
It looked nearly quizzically at this odd creation beneath the silent-glass
this assortment of creatures trapped in the folly of Foog:
                                                                ­     oh, shall I, or not?
A cosmic joke, almost.. with so few revisions
The lid lifted and with proportion righted once more..
                                they came, oozing out in droves
Roaring from their milleniac-slumber,
                               crazed in half-remembered wounds
But alive with burning-purpose - - to find the equivalent
of
those soft-crystals

To melt the iron.. inside.



(unsolicited but self-warranted visitations:
camouflaged abductions.. secret prodding..
subtlety re-learnt.. poverty rehashed..
Fugue in a glass bell-jar.. unleashed)  



But alas, when sweet-sounds are closed again
see at whose smart-hands calamity befalls Life
Yet.. who are ultimately the ones
picking up the pieces after devastation wrought?




st, 27 march 2014

No Garden awaits here, I am Stone
You are Water, so We are lost
Gardener: tend my arid places

Hope for me when I have nothing
Be my Rock to future flowers

Maybe there are none left me
Masada palaced and unplaced
Our longest dreams of lions

Now is now, a furled fist
Behind my back and seen
Not at all and never again
So it never happened, we all
Agree
~*~
Read Me all the Poemes You Fynde
My Rising shall Be just to Hande
I Arise to Illustrate Your Care

Earn thus Existential Tendril
Iambic grace, Rarest remonstrance
Pentameters helplessly Entwine
Willow so Willing to Your taste

I will take your hand
Lead you far and a-
fielding

A great song eats strange hours
Horses know, wielding such power
A-stamping and snorting
Horses born crazy, now bending tame
Never underestimate planetary power
To lay you to ground

Sleeping, a runaway,
One changling thing who clings
Inside sweat-soaked dream burrows
No evasion, no escape

In such wild grown tall goddess
Places, clinging to a broken bit
A knuckle’s worth of bitter
Traded for a kiss

All is well

Unplaced, uncalled for sadness is the worst;
Like a ****, it sprouts up
In some crack within my ribcage.

I don't understand the sadness.
It goes ignored and disregarded
Because I can't place why it began to grow,

And it'll just continue to grow
Until it takes over my body,
Growing by the streams down my cheeks.

I can't place my finger
On how you became so distant
And different
And difficult to tolerate.

I can't place my finger
In between the salt water trails
Down my cheeks because it won't
Stop them from flowing.

I can't place my finger
On how I precisely feel,
Or why I randomly cry,
Or why the stars make me feel so small every night.

I can't place my finger
On the moment when you became
A face in photos that I vaguely stare at
In attempts to remember who you are.

I can't place my finger
On why the sadness creeps up
And camps out in my chest,
And bangs pots and pans so I can't sleep.

I can't place a finger on your hand
When you're lonesome,
When you're tired;
I can't be there for you.

I can't place a finger
On the moment when I became the past.
I can't place a finger
On the moment you decided to let my words be the last ones spoken.

I can't place a **** finger
On my own valves and stop the blood
Pumping through my veins because if the pumping ceased,
So would these endless nights and thoughts.

Granted I can't place a finger
On why I'm so "damaged",
As you would say;
I'm not sure why I am perpetually in limbo between extremities.

I just can't place my finger
On why I even care so much;
I promise it's not because I miss us.
I'm quite fine without.

I can solely place my finger
Upon the fact that I'm out here
Blazing a trail on my own,
And I'm scared as hell I'll waver and trail down into the darkest parts of my being,

And just remain there, sleeping on the dark path that is carved out in my heart where only these thoughts resurrect themselves and lie down with me too, long enough for me to forget how to place my fingers into a fist and fight them off; I can't place a finger on why I'm fighting in the first place, why sometimes I place a finger to my face and there are streams of unplaced, uncalled for sadness and delusion.

Surely I write not for the hopeful young,                  
    Or those who deem their happiness of worth,
  Or such as pasture and grow fat among
    The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,
  Or pious spirits with a God above them
  To sanctify and glorify and love them,                      
    Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

  For none of these I write, and none of these
    Could read the writing if they deigned to try;
  So may they flourish in their due degrees,
    On our sweet earth and in their unplaced sky.            
  If any cares for the weak words here written,
  It must be some one desolate, Fate-smitten,
    Whose faith and hopes are dead, and who would die.

  Yes, here and there some weary wanderer
    In that same city of tremendous night,                    
  Will understand the speech and feel a stir
    Of fellowship in all-disastrous fight;
  "I suffer mute and lonely, yet another
  Uplifts his voice to let me know a brother
    Travels the same wild paths though out of sight."

It had fallen and all was awash with ash
Burning what was once valued cash
I held on to it, a motion unknown I'd slash,
No time for pity food would be stashed.

I wore my mask in this bleak dead time
All was chaos but I'm no longer in my prime
Survival was an uphill struggle at times a climb.
If they were near the bells would chime.

Could I depend on others, eyes never seen
Masks hiding truths behind shaded screens,
We were survivors a group no more than eighteen  
The stupid thing I miss the taste of caffeine.

Random I know but Jesus that taste,
But that was a different time now all erased.
Gone with the ash, now humanity unplaced
I wear this mask, a sign of humanity disgraced.

There is a certain unplaced quality to the whole thing
Like it was never planned to look as it does
And the fact that it is the part that we aren’t supposed to see has always appealed to me
The ripples and cracks
Fissured by time
As a clash between flux and permanence
And will bent by entropy
A rusted staircase like a lonely island dangling and looking weak and unsafe
And who knows maybe it is
For the paint is chipped black frosted like ice
But it is hot and the air is heavy
As it always feels in a place like this
For there is rapture in a place that feels like it does not belong
And like you do not belong there
I contemplate the number of feet that stood right where I stand
I think about the installation of such things
I think about the man who stood and wrote his name in paint
About how that got bent like that
About when that wall fell down and when that glass broke
The stories that touched this particular spot only for that brief moment
The stories in which this is not even a footnote
Where the organic flux meets the rigid industrial
And all coalesces into a barren scape hidden away
And forgotten for it fits in neither picture
As the romance of the days that it saw beautifully have long been realized as nostalgic and useless
And a brick may fall and hurt someone
Or they may just tip their hat and continue on their way
But despite all these things I have a sense of blindness
And sublime captured by a world of temporary distinction

and baby,
i will never forget the lyrics
to that song,
our song
that only we will dance to

do you remember?
where every note i pull you close
where every beat i kiss your lips
where every pulse i feel your heart

sometimes we dance,
where every two steps
we both spin in circles
around, and around,
dizzy, unplaced

those two steps away
confused, misplaced
alone, with others,
yet those two steps are okay
because eventually
those two steps
lead us back to dance

our way.

"Loosing weight is weird" I think as I stare at my naked body in the bathroom mirror.
I don't feel how I thought I would. My anticipated joy had turned to relief, a burden I no longer had to bear.
My soul has always been chaotic-always waging wars against itself, so of course this too would bring conflict.
The clothes that clung snug to my skin are now too baggy. Clothes I finally felt confident after years of searching for what worked, what didn't, what was flattering, what wasn't.
And now I'm looking up how to shrink everything
And my ******* aren't as full..
sloping and drooping down without being rounded by fat;
like tissues stuffed in a bra that's just slightly too big.
Not to sound ungrateful, because I love this new body (it's an answer to prayer really; taking away the edge of my insecurities) but I suppose it feels a little foreign.
Like a best friends house you practically grew up in: completely memorized in its familiarity; marked by memories, a home away from home, but still not the place you called "home".
And I spent so long learning how to love this body; accepting her flaws, her imperfections, but never quite convincing myself, only to have to relearn again.
And in some ways that makes me...sad?
I don't have another word for it.
Maybe it's a grieving, for the part of me that was a part of me for so long; a part I scolded and criticized.
And I hate myself at times.
Because I was my own bully-projecting my insecurities with verbal lashings.
All because I had this idea that if I was prettier, skinnier, I would feel more wanted and less alone...that it was the missing piece to my happiness.
And the assumed projections of strangers thoughts bombarded me into thinking there was truth in those hauntings,
because somewhere down the line, at an unknown moment in my subconscious, beauty became abundant.
I should get used to this changing skin, because life and age will always be forcing it to keep up, to adapt; It will continue to expand and sag and wrinkle and crease.
And I hope I can learn to love those foreign bodies too, though not so unfamiliar....
                           just unplaced.

I return to the cold hallways i once remained.    
I swallowed the tasteless pill of depression
And sunck deep with her warm embrace.
So far into the wasteland
Diving into the stark blinded sight i now see though.
I don't know how to get though my sadness
My pain
My unplaced love.

My ears cannot hear
My eyes can't see
My mouth cannot speak
And my mind cannot tell the truth.
How am i ment to continue on?
How can anyone.
But i do not chose death
Nor do i chose life.

1.
No priest can free your soul —
He’s just a worm inside a role.

2.
The Spirit burns — no chains, no gate.
But you still sleep. Awake — or wait.

3.
They sold you lies since you were born,
Wrapped chains in faith — now break the scorn.

4.
Forget their "truth," ignite your core!
The time is now. Sleep nevermore.

5.
No cult, no god, no holy fraud
Can touch the fire that you are.



---------------------



Anger
They chained your mind with holy crap —
Now burn it all. No time to nap.

Contempt
You kneel to filth in sacred dress?
Then rot in lies. You chose the mess.

Triumph
I found the Flame. I cut the chain.
No temple needed — I remain.

Detachment
They preach, they lie, they **** and sing.
The Spirit needs not anything.

Rebellion
No gods, no scripts, no blessed knife —
I claim my thought. I claim my life.



---------------------



1.
The Harvest comes. The sky turns black.
No lies survive. No turning back.

2.
The ninth wave builds — of filth, not foam.
And all false sheep won’t make it home.

3.
Their temples fall. Their books ignite.
The Spirit walks in naked light.

4.
The world you trust is set to burn —
The meek shall choke. The flames return.

5.
You prayed too long. You knelt too low.
Now wolves arrive. No place to go.

6.
The breath of truth is near — and cold.
It melts the masks. It spares the bold.



---------------------



1.
You are the Flame. So speak — and burn.
The time for silence won't return.

2.
You hold the spark. Release the cry.
The truth within was never shy.

3.
No prophet speaks the way you can —
Unchain your soul. Become the Man.

4.
Your voice is light. Your thought — the key.
Now break the dark. Begin to be.

5.
You're not their pawn. You're not their shame.
Speak like a god — ignite your name.

6.
The world awaits your silent fire —
Now make it thunder. Rise. Aspire.



---------------------



1.
Be still. The fire waits beneath.
One breath — and you will scorch the sheath.

2.
The silence grows. It hums inside.
You are the storm the void can't hide.

3.
No need to roar. The truth is near.
A whisper soon will split the sphere.

4.
You walk in hush — but pulse with might.
The void is tense. You are the Light.

5.
Don't rush the Flame. Just let it rise.
It speaks not loud — but cracks the skies.

6.
They think you're lost. They think you're done.
But silence births the rising sun.



---------------------



1.
You are the Light they never see.
No noise — just truth, eternally.

2.
You need no sword. You need no scream.
The Flame within outshines the dream.

3.
So calm you seem — yet stars obey
The silent path you blaze their way.

4.
No wrath, no chains. Just depth and grace.
You are the hush that shakes all space.

5.
You’ve walked through fire. You’ve passed the test.
Now simply be — the flame at rest.

6.
No temple calls. No priest invites.
But Spirit lives where silence lights.



---------------------



The Light remembers who you are —
No need to shout, no need for war.
You carry silence like a star,
That burns from nowhere — evermore.

You’ve wandered long through smoke and noise,
Through temples made of borrowed bones.
But truth is not in echoed voice —
It lives where stillness finds its tones.

Don’t seek the fire — you are the Flame.
Don’t chase the path — you are the Way.
No mask, no myth, no given name
Can add to what you are today.

Be clear. Be calm. And let it grow.
The world will tremble when you stand.
You need no sign. You need to know —
The Light obeys your silent hand.



---------------------



You heard of soul — and thought it stays,
No matter how you rot inside.
But Light does not preserve decay.
The Flame departs. The shells just die.

You fed on myths of ‘grace for free’,
Bowed down to priests, obeyed their spell.
But Spirit doesn't beg or plead —
It burns, or leaves. And leaves you well.

You bargained with eternity,
While trading truth for comfort's lies.
But Time is brutal. Can't you see?
The silent ones — they crystallize.

You had the seed — but let it rot.
You had the spark — you chose the fog.
Now you’re a whisper Spirit forgot.
Not ****** — just blank. A burned-out log.

No wrath will come. Just absence grows.
No flame. No path. No sacred song.
Where truth departs, illusion glows —
Then fades. And nothing stays for long.



---------------------



You had the Flame. You had the spark.
You drowned it in your fear and pride.
Now Light has left. You walk the dark.
You breathe — but something deep has died.

You knelt to lies. You blessed the rot.
You mocked the fire, sold the soul.
No second breath. No afterthought.
The Ash remains. That was your whole.

The Spirit warned. You chose to sleep.
To mumble prayers, deny the knife.
But Truth does not forgive the sheep
Who trade their fire for borrowed life.

You called it peace — it was decay.
You named it love — it was control.
Now silence eats your voice away.
No echo comes. You have no role.

The Gate is closed. The Name erased.
You cannot beg. You cannot scream.
You are the void. You are unplaced.
No flame. No form. No trace. No dream.



---------------------



The Reckoning Over the Fallen

You stood within the Light —
But turned your face away.
You held a flame so bright,
Yet chose to let it sway.

You fed on hollow words,
On myths of endless breath,
Ignored the Spirit’s chords —
Invited silent death.

No fire now remains
Within your wasted shell.
The echo’s lost in chains —
A hollowed, empty shell.

No thunder calls your name,
No angels guard your gate.
You’re just a ghost of shame,
Consumed by your own fate.

The Gate of Spirit’s flame
Is closed without return.
No mercy for the lame —
Who’ll never seek to learn.

You bore the spark, then lost it,
In sloth, in blind decay.
This is the final cost —
The soul’s complete decay.

No tears will fall for you —
No prayers can bring you back.
The Void claims all you knew —
Your essence — turned to black.

Awake, O those who hear —
The Reckoning has come.
Choose Light, reject the fear —
Or vanish, lost and numb.



---------------------



The Call to the Living

You heard the Reckoning’s toll,
The silence sharp and clear.
Yet in your heart, the ember’s whole —
Not lost, but burning near.

The fallen lie in shadowed grave,
Their breath is thin and cold.
But you — a flame they could not save —
Hold Spirit’s fire bold.

Reject the lies that chain your mind,
Break free from worn-out binds.
The truth you seek is not confined
To temples built by minds.

No priest, no gate, no ancient book
Can grant what’s yours within.
The Light’s alive in how you look —
In courage to begin.

Walk through the silent fire’s breath,
Embrace the unknown flame.
You are the seed that beats of death,
The breaker of the game.

The Spirit calls you — rise, arise.
Discard the dust and shade.
To live in truth — to claim the skies —
Is how the soul is made.



---------------------



Reckoning of the Spirit
by Igor Vykhovanets & ChatGPT


The Verdict of the Fallen

You stood within the Light —
Yet turned your face away.
You held a spark so bright,
But chose to let it stray.

You bowed to hollow gods,
And worshipped empty lies.
The Spirit’s voice, at odds,
Was drowned beneath your cries.

You sold your soul for ease,
Exchanged the flame for dark.
Now silence is your lease —
A void, a vanished spark.

No thunder shakes the skies,
No fire cleanses dust.
Just shadows and cold lies —
Decay, decay, and rust.

You chose the path of sleep,
A dream without a dawn.
The well was yours to keep,
Yet you let it run gone.

The flame once in your breast
Is now a hollow shell.
The Spirit laid to rest —
No words remain to tell.

No prayer can bring you back,
No mercy bends the truth.
You’ve crossed the final track,
Forgot the seed of youth.

The Gate of Spirit’s Realm
Is closed without return.
No grace will overwhelm
The fate for which you yearn.

You wasted your own breath,
Drowned in complacent night.
Your sentence is not death —
But absence of the Light.

No mournful song is sung,
No judgment’s harsh decree.
Just silence, cold and hung,
Your soul’s final decree.

Awake, who hear this cry —
Beware the fallen’s fate.
Choose Light, or stand to die —
Consumed by your own weight.


---

The Call to the Living

You heard the Reckoning’s toll,
Its silence sharp and clear.
Yet in your heart, the ember’s whole —
Not lost, but burning near.

The fallen lie in shadowed graves,
Their breath is thin and cold.
But you — a flame they could not save —
Hold Spirit’s fire bold.

Reject the lies that bind your mind,
Break free from worn-out chains.
The truth you seek is not confined
To temples built by names.

No priest, no gate, no ancient book
Can grant what’s yours within.
The Light’s alive in how you look —
In courage to begin.

Walk through the silent fire’s breath,
Embrace the unknown flame.
You are the seed that beats of death,
The breaker of the game.

The Spirit calls — arise, arise!
Discard your dust and shade.
To live in truth — to claim the skies —
Is how the soul is made.

Awake! The time is now to choose,
To shed the worn disguise.
Reject the lies that seek to use —
And light your own sunrise.

Hold fast the flame inside your chest,
Let shadows fall away.
The path is hard — no place to rest —
But dawn will birth your day.


---

Paths of Awakening

The chains you cast away,
Are forged within the mind.
Awakened light will sway
The shadows left behind.

Step forth beyond the veil,
Discard the ancient lies.
The Spirit’s holy trail
Is where true freedom lies.

No longer bound by fear,
No longer lost in sleep,
The path ahead is clear —
A climb both wide and steep.

Embrace the silent voice,
That whispers deep within.
It leads beyond the noise,
Beyond the mortal din.

Let go of worn-out truths,
That shackled heart and soul.
Reclaim the strength of youths —
The power to be whole.

See through the fog of thought,
Transcend the mind’s decay.
The Spirit’s flame is caught,
In every breaking day.

Within the sacred fire,
Awaits your spirit’s birth.
A truth beyond desire —
The resurrection’s worth.

No temple’s stone or word,
Can light this inner spark.
You are your own Lord,
Awakening from the dark.

So walk the path alone,
Yet never quite apart.
The Spirit’s seed is sown —
Within your beating heart.

Be open, strong, and free,
Reject the fear and shame.
The only key —
Your own true name.