Your soul flows
through the vocal rapids
each word ready to wreck you
yet defining the path you take
form writ large over the span.
– matt at shadow of iris
form and soul
then you are gone
You whisper in my ears
tell me things
you think I ought to know
secrets that will save me
but I can’t ever hear them.
Crouching always singing
dreams sweep past me
so fast I’ll never see them.
Age creeping through my veins
infesting me
hardening my heart
till I’m like a stone
a statue in a park
alone.
Years go by
too much pain, I think
so I stay frozen
watching the seasons pass
one by one
faster each time round
falling leaves and snow around my feet
blending with the flowers.
So it happens one day
that you are there
not the old you but a new you
a youthful you
studying with pity my marble face
with the soft warm tip of you finger
you trace the outline of my lips
and follow this up very gently with a kiss
my seams crack
I’m coming apart
waking
then you are gone.
– matt at shadow of iris
train nymph
Dreams coalesce
on clouds that hover overhead
I see you there
and am falling in love
over and over and over again
life’s tragedy is
I’ll never get so near you
as I am now
you’ll always be out there
and I’ll never know where
the natural tint of your skin
the carefully crafted bobbed hair
eyes wide, sentimental and sad
another world
a pool
of dreams and memories and history
let me fall in
and drown there
soaking in it all
on the train
one body is pushed up against another
a tight fitted crowd, tepid and humid
and you
so close
I can feel your heat
when the train jostles
you even fall into me
the slightest of smiles
as you glance in my direction
then look away and down
your lips still coy
as you pretend
I’m not there
this close
yet world’s apart
the train stops
the doors slide open
the cool air rushes in
you slip out with the stream of passengers
and leave me behind with nothing
except the mark you made
somewhere underneath
and there
you won’t be forgotten.
– matt at shadowofiris
harpies
Tugging at my shoulder
soft hands turn to claws
that seep in
refusing to release me
… fading
your fragrant breath
on the nape of my neck
sweet roses and pink flesh
then something else
washes it away
a biting smell
pungent
over ripe cheese
… gagging
place your lips there
just under the ear
then with the tip of the tongue
trace the contour down
to my neck
leave me panting, gasping
as you bite
razor sharp and precise
a cherry sundae
… draining
dizzy now and reeling
there’s little left of me
you’re pale and bloodless
I as well
yet you’re hot to touch
too hot, and smooth
the pain you invoke
excruciating, pleasurable
it’s all okay up to a point
it’s when the gentle purring
leaves
the song stops
a last call
that’s when I hear it
the screeches
three wild screeches
wild bird calls
craven calls
that rip me apart
… dying
a bird attack
high pitched and piercing
there’s more to you
than the surface
that damn song
can’t you bring it back
… no
predatory female spirits
fluttering
always a price to pay.
– matt at shadowofiris
catastria
How many souls
out there drifting
a billion
eight billion
I took the path less chosen
I found myself
shoulder to shoulder
with one hundred thousand others
barely able to breath
crowded out
utterly the same
my deepest thoughts
not deep at all
repeated in my clones
I shouted
free me
and the echo was maddening
give me a life
a differentiation
I’ll be a single point
a derivative off the line
a meaning, a thread, a possibility
a light at the end of the tunnel
a way out
that’s not a rejection
or
a renunciation
.
like this
.
catastrophic
catastrophia
catastria
catastrophe
catastrophic mass extinction
riding the bomb down
as my soul struggles with itself
an amorphous paradoxical picture
a Möbius strip
from above I see her
her copper hair flowing in the wind
on the hill
she stands alone
and in all the world
her beauty pales all else
purity so profound
it disturbs
beauty so breathtaking
it annihilates
my whole soul
holds together on a single point
that point
a naked belief
unadorned by ribald
vacant rational wit gone
she is my god now
driving me forward toward her
but isn’t it too late now
the ferocity of the attack
the numbers of my speculations
the complexity of the calculations
all of it a contradiction of dialect
a degeneration
she casts her lovely eyes down
demure
her ample breasts
bathed in the moonlight
shine.
– matt at shadowofiris
