From the poorest dysentery filled gutter,
The stars still shimmer as bright and unreachable,
As they do from a billionaire’s garden.
Inner Space
Although in orbit —
I feel the stars are no nearer.
Unable to see the light
With blind eyes closed, relying on weaker senses,
Stumbling forever onwards, destination unclear,
There’s no light in a reality fueled by fear,
More machine than man now, that’s humanity today,
Unlovable, unmemorable, unloyal creatures,
Over opinionated, self-indulged and dim featured,
Artificial is his intelligence now,
The dissident speaks without a mandible,
As simulation paints a future brightly tangible,
Changes have been subtle and constant,
Corporations are the necks that turn the head,
Governments of a people, corrupt and morally dead,
The dissidents no longer speak their mind,
And the world seems unwilling to see the light,
As constant technological dopamine numbs any fight.
Two moments in one
In the infinite darkness of space,
I drift,
My ship is set to auto pilot,
Silently moving forward,
Zero navigation to find my way home,
Blind in the dark,
There is no sound other than my breathing,
A numbness fills me,
Not quite alive, but unable to die,
I am in stasis.
"I'm not sure if this works, but it felt like I was telling two tales at the same time, each line flows together, and yet, each second line tells separate tale, both combining at the end."
September Morning
It’s a cold blue skied September morning,
The first coffee for the day has gone,
The heater is on and slowly warming,
And I feel myself finally waking up,
I perform the daily curtain opening ritual,
Bright pink cherry blossoms catch my eye,
Our garden is beginning to come alive for Spring,
The thought of an end to winter makes me smile,
As golden sunbeams pierce the tree line,
My room illuminates, and I rub weary eyes,
It is quiet, a blessing of country living,
My mind is also quiet, unready for workday stress,
The world feels so far away from me this morning,
And the thought of that distance makes me smile,
Apart from sparrows squabbling outside my window,
The fan of the heater is the only sound,
Right now, I could be the last man on earth,
And I would be ok with that.
When the Beast Awakens
Covert as a crow at midnight,
My anxiety builds within,
An unwelcome guest with no invite,
A creeping feeling now settled in,
It only takes a carefree thought,
Cast in the wrong direction,
To awaken the monster that I have wrought,
From my mind I have no protection,
Its first blow fells me with a body shot,
And then it then likes to take its time,
Then it twists my stomach into a knot,
And that’s when it’s showtime,
My mind performs its pantomime,
Where I cry, and shake, and can’t think straight,
My thoughts explode working overtime,
Making narratives to feed my frantic state,
I take the drug to calm the thoughts,
That tell me that I’m going to die,
At the hands of this enemy that I have fought,
Since I was just a child,
Eventually the wave breaks upon the beach,
Where I’m washed up broken and tired,
Afraid to close my eyes at night and sleep,
Fearing the monster I have inside.
The Return
The other me has returned so soon,
He visits throughout the year,
In my head he hums a familiar tune,
That’s how I know that he is near,
I feel more distant than my usual self,
As though he casts me out to sea,
Or I’m placed upon a dusty shelf,
While he masquerades as me,
The real me waits until he leaves again,
But who knows how long he’ll be,
He’s rolling storm clouds, and pouring rain,
Don’t engage with the other me,
There’s no acknowledgement while he’s active,
I’m just an unwilling bystander,
Our thoughts are not co-active,
When he’s here, he is commander,
Suddenly he has gone without a warning,
Control returned, his task complete,
I’m left colder than a winters morning,
All alone in the driver’s seat.
Infinite Black: The Rack
The rack under naked skin is cold and metallic,
Not quite medical, and not purely a utility bench,
A workbench in a filthy room built for suffering,
The stolen human awaits, like a dirty unfinished project,
Unable to die, a captive, an object, a component,
Living clay, soon to be remoulded, resculpted with other artifacts,
Becoming part mechanical, and part biological,
Dead fingers press, cut, and prod, pulling ropes tight,
All pliable flesh is needlessly lashed into place,
The use of rope is part of the show, it is an aggressive pantomime,
Used to install fear, fear is the source, the essence required,
The dark hoses that crudely sustain life, also fill the body with toxins,
All a mind can do here, is dream nightmares of endless torment,
While the busy engineers tools transmogrify the body,
A single tear falls from the captives eye,
In this place the helpless are stripped down, broken and rebuilt,
All to suit a mysterious unknown purpose.
Time to Fall
As I have aged, it feels like I am falling,
I’m slower, less enthusiastic, unwilling to connect,
Everything hurts, the body joints and the mind aches,
The younger me was more combative, stronger, fireier,
As if I followed an invisible upward trajectory,
But now, I can feel myself falling uncontrollably,
Piece by piece, day by day, I’m disappearing,
I feel I’m at the point where I’m in my own way,
And constantly in the way of others, my fire isn’t as bright,
It doesn’t burn with the same intensity as it once did,
I’m falling now, perhaps back to earth,
Maybe, after a life with my head in the clouds,
I’m finally coming down to rest, to sleep,
To truly sleep for the first time,
Dream free.
Farewell to Winter
I can feel the tomb of Winter opening,
The locked vault releases its frigid lifeless air,
Preparing for the colour and warmth of Spring,
A return of the honey eaters, monarchs and flowers,
No longer locked in the realm of the dead,
The grey clouds clear, and my mind feels hope again,
A time for drowned sorrows to dry and bloom,
To feel the sunlight again on my tired face,
To smell in the country air, a blossoming world revitalised,
Instead of cold darkness, and memories of death,
It’s a time for birth, art and light,
Breathing in fresh air, after holding it for a season,
I step out into the sunlight and I look older and greyer,
The season of ice has taken so much from me,
But today already feels different,
I hear my wife laughing in the garden, I see our hounds play,
And I feel for the first time in so long,
That everything is going to be ok.
Dan Verkys 