The Breath We Live

Vast unfolding consequence of exotic dreaming raptures,

fenced by burdened reality.

Escape artists flocking to chemically false annihilation of strife,

tortured by their intelligence.

Deepest penetrating roots screaming truth to delusional ears,

tomorrow, after fleeing darkness,

problems are worse,

compounded by revelry's regretful posing.

Realisation whips us to pace, running, running, 

then, too tired to sprint, too hurt to walk,

too grieved to trudge, too depressed to talk...we hide.

In dreamer's solace drifting hidden, 

lifted on spirit gilded ethereal wings.

Particle free matter of thought's science defying breeze,

transport us higher.

Sought in sleep the Monk's retreat,

subconscious absorbing answer's clues,

we fly, at peace.

Body's jarring mortal needs stir us from heavenly repose,

dragging upright muscle mechanism,

meaning forgotten movement, we're here.

Deep breath mirrors inner monologue,

reflective pep talker's shaving grace, we're here,

ready to flee again later.

Life, in absconding thoughts,

significance of which is mostly missed, holds many keys.

Those minutes by the bus stop Tree in dappled emerald magic shades,

Sun's crystal oeillade behind dancing leaves,

veins of their ancient hearts pulsing sap in rhythms we dreamt.
The mirrored world inside a raindrop's fluid shivers,
hanging from the tip of a grey city's black umbrella,
how small yet large we are in thought,
such messages painted on water's dripping gallery.
The feather floating through the frame of your gaze,
held aloft by invisible forces that fundamentally scream, "I'm here,"
by just lifting the hair on your arms as it catches that feather symbol freedom.
Elusive glimpses of oneness,
as there you stand suited for your day in the song of the western wind...
here is your reality without constraint,
free from needs to chemically taint,
here is life,
to breathe and understand that breath,
to be filled with this,
 in each and every moment hence forth.
To live, is never to run and hide,
such is but existence,
 all things make all things turn,
live,
to be alive.

©David Nickle  Read 2014
 

Wasteland's Of The Mind

Heaving sand dune's desert presence, 

sky's ancient eye, beating backs,

molten fists of indiscriminate fire, 

punishing the trudging ones.

Disobedient of common sense, 

mad dog's dead bleached bones,

Englishmen taking photographs with

vapourising finger's click,

dust blown voyeurs blend with innate

taboo's ocean.

Tourists lay tragically sweating grease

from dying skin,

sunglasses reflecting their two weeks 

allocated time to be unknown,

mysterious fortnight.

Returning drones play back

the memory reel,

disturbed by smiles,

again they're gnashing petulant  savages,

existing in sweat soaked,

sand blasted,

drunken beach haze by gone days.

Roiling theatrical spectres,

now new nation ghosts,

society phantasmagoria,

 plague of town's lying delights,

television junkies shooting up the news,

plastic grinning anchor men,

a favorite pop opiate...

That or imagined blood,

drinking violence on the rocks,

metal bars cooling shame's temperament, 

handcuffing will to greed,

soul chained to lust and fear tied to love,

convinced that feeling needs a cure,

productivity of blood tax pure.

Outside our circus,

The White Face Clown beckons,

"Come on in folks,

step from the womb,

there's plenty of cells inside this tomb,

come...here's your certificate of mortality, 

you get another when you die,

but we're keeping your body."

Now a monetized corpse,

for your carcass they vie,

vultures studying a bloody machine,

pulling tendons of lifeless fingers,

quizzical looks from eye to eye,

limp hand dropped on the flesh operative's slab,

idiotically still...puzzled.

Spirits look down through a tear filled sky,

watching the grains of the sand dunes die,

as man becomes a desert,

a wasteland of the mind.

©David Nickle Read 2014

Our Collective Web Of Fear...Stop!

Our Collective Web Of Fear...Stop!

 Wisdom tearing knife edge skin of contemporary knowledge,

 Fear biting minds of those without acceptance of personal reality,

 Jaws dropping from cliffs of doubting existence scream at the world,

 From the wilderness giants stride to city's plastic morality,

 Stripping the skin from media's scaremonger whore masters,

 Confusion consumes the human condition's self digesting acid pools,

 Chaos rules the self blinding citizens of our race,

 Time devours our money lusting loins of ignorance,

 Bravery...is seeing it, then stopping to say..."NO MORE!"

 ©David Nickle Read 2014