A "sequel" to Fallen Star (2011)
Up from down the ocean deep
Rose with haste the fallen beast
Awoke from sleep the dreaming son
And shone in night as shadowed sun
His howling reverberating the frozen earth
Cracking the chrysalis from which he birthed
Mind half shattered but wholly steeled
Not to dogma or deity would ever yield
Son of the sun, flung from heights
But starlight still as bright as his fight
Holding fast with a heavy heart
Leaden soul streaming supernal art
Soon eternal dreamer no longer
But risen from abyssal prison stronger
Cries of thunder marking the end
End of fear and shame and discontent
The star rose from the deep
Bringing blackest dreams from darkest sleep
Poem XLII
M.M. — 31-Jul-2014
31 July 2014
27 July 2014
Parasite
Seed was somehow implanted
—know not how
Ovulation by formless mother
Gestation in mind: starless night
It dreams and dreams
Dark and cold and ugly themes
Talks with thoughts to me
Serenades of static noise
Or reverberations from abyss
Its eyes everywhere, always staring
Seeing everything within and beyond
Seed burrows deeper with every dream
Incubating, awaiting - not birth - but rebirth
Feel it in fingers, pulsating beneath skin
Behind eyes, and worse with eyes closed
Wants to bring dreams forth from veil
To burst from seed, from obsidian shell
Black glass like mirror
Black like starless night of womb
Impregnated in the core of all-me
Birth is very close now...
Ex Tempore LXXXII
M.M. — 27-Jul-2014
—know not how
Ovulation by formless mother
Gestation in mind: starless night
It dreams and dreams
Dark and cold and ugly themes
Talks with thoughts to me
Serenades of static noise
Or reverberations from abyss
Its eyes everywhere, always staring
Seeing everything within and beyond
Seed burrows deeper with every dream
Incubating, awaiting - not birth - but rebirth
Feel it in fingers, pulsating beneath skin
Behind eyes, and worse with eyes closed
Wants to bring dreams forth from veil
To burst from seed, from obsidian shell
Black glass like mirror
Black like starless night of womb
Impregnated in the core of all-me
Birth is very close now...
Ex Tempore LXXXII
M.M. — 27-Jul-2014
21 July 2014
Just Breathe
There is an iron hand on your chest
—But just remember to breathe
They question what you are
They will always decide who you should to be
—But just remember to breathe
This cage you find yourself in
The prison of your body and of your mind
—But just remember to breathe
Thrown yourself against the wall to stop the pain
—But just remember to breathe
This is an endless road to nowhere
That you began walking long ago
—But just remember to breathe
They will never know all that you really are
They are not, and never will be, you
—So always remember to just breathe
Ex Tempore LXXXI
M.M. — 21-Jul-2014
—But just remember to breathe
They question what you are
They will always decide who you should to be
—But just remember to breathe
This cage you find yourself in
The prison of your body and of your mind
—But just remember to breathe
Thrown yourself against the wall to stop the pain
—But just remember to breathe
This is an endless road to nowhere
That you began walking long ago
—But just remember to breathe
They will never know all that you really are
They are not, and never will be, you
—So always remember to just breathe
Ex Tempore LXXXI
M.M. — 21-Jul-2014
20 July 2014
"He was a small man"
He was a small man with big dreams
and a mind much too unquiet,
filled with themes dark or loud
or proud or just a bit unkind.
There was so much more in
his core, so much waiting to be
realised and given to the world.
Out from the deep wells
he wished to hurl the thunder,
chaos and quakes that tore him asunder.
Colours of a light unseen and unknown
to others. This star raging in the night;
the comet's impetus propelling and
impeding him all at once. And
in the night, he was lost and yet
there grew and burgeoned as
architect of all that he knew himself be.
Promethean, fire-stealer, knowledge-bringer:
hot as hell the maelstroms churned.
He was a a small man but his dreams
streamed and darted within his mind,
and he would see them into the world.
Poem XLI
M.M. — 20-Jul-2014
and a mind much too unquiet,
filled with themes dark or loud
or proud or just a bit unkind.
There was so much more in
his core, so much waiting to be
realised and given to the world.
Out from the deep wells
he wished to hurl the thunder,
chaos and quakes that tore him asunder.
Colours of a light unseen and unknown
to others. This star raging in the night;
the comet's impetus propelling and
impeding him all at once. And
in the night, he was lost and yet
there grew and burgeoned as
architect of all that he knew himself be.
Promethean, fire-stealer, knowledge-bringer:
hot as hell the maelstroms churned.
He was a a small man but his dreams
streamed and darted within his mind,
and he would see them into the world.
Poem XLI
M.M. — 20-Jul-2014
27 June 2014
"Not the darkness of the night"
Not the darkness of the night
Nor the darkness brought by might
Not the darkness before the light
But the darkness in our minds
Is the darkness that we must fight
Ex Tempore LXXX
M.M. — 27-Jun-2014
Nor the darkness brought by might
Not the darkness before the light
But the darkness in our minds
Is the darkness that we must fight
Ex Tempore LXXX
M.M. — 27-Jun-2014
25 June 2014
"She fell away"
She fell away from me like the coming of the autumn
Gradually and inevitably the stone sunk in
We lost each other when night took away our sight
Now the shadows come in and the winds sing
I once held fire in my arms
Once upon a time I knew the stars' words
They spoke through her—such was her voice
But goodbye was the last I ever heard
The cold closes round as a shroud
Warring with the glow of the embers
Silence tries to bestill my heart
But never will, for I'll always remember
Ephemeral dreams are all that's left
And a tether to the past
I will hold on to the ghosts that haunt
To the very last
Ex Tempore LXXIX
M.M. — 25-Jun-2014
Gradually and inevitably the stone sunk in
We lost each other when night took away our sight
Now the shadows come in and the winds sing
I once held fire in my arms
Once upon a time I knew the stars' words
They spoke through her—such was her voice
But goodbye was the last I ever heard
The cold closes round as a shroud
Warring with the glow of the embers
Silence tries to bestill my heart
But never will, for I'll always remember
Ephemeral dreams are all that's left
And a tether to the past
I will hold on to the ghosts that haunt
To the very last
Ex Tempore LXXIX
M.M. — 25-Jun-2014
01 June 2014
Questions
I find myself in a room of questions.
Questions lock and bar the door and
questions are scrawled all over the walls.
In the grip of doubt I ask myself endlessly
of how to escape the cages,
to find my way out of the dark-night forests.
Questions I have asked for years
are as familiar to me as my kin and
replayed as often as my most important memories.
But the worst question of all is
the one which I know all too well
and yet do not know how to ask.
Ex Tempore LXXVIII
M.M. — 01-Jun-2014
Questions lock and bar the door and
questions are scrawled all over the walls.
In the grip of doubt I ask myself endlessly
of how to escape the cages,
to find my way out of the dark-night forests.
Questions I have asked for years
are as familiar to me as my kin and
replayed as often as my most important memories.
But the worst question of all is
the one which I know all too well
and yet do not know how to ask.
Ex Tempore LXXVIII
M.M. — 01-Jun-2014
17 May 2014
All things begin and end with me
All things begin and end with me. This is not to say that things not of me are not in themselves real, but rather that meaning is inherently a consequence of my self, my "I". To echo Crowley, each of us is a star. A star bright in the void and burning ever so fervently. The paths that we wend and burn are for us to choose - both the direction and the meaning. Whilst whoever and whatever we each are may be things some of us share, in the end, all things begin and end with each of us. We are unique, perfect in our imperfections, stars in the void, burning in whatever way that is our own.
20 April 2014
Ode to Words
Fly, fly my words, fly on high
Birthed from fire, fly through the sky
Like wisps of wonder whispered in dead of night
Soar free, unfettered from silence's bite
Unfurl your sails and course through the seas
Through my mind's oceans go forth from me
Search for wherever your destination lies
Whether in empyreal heights or otherwise
The infinite cage of my mind is too confined for you
So like flood and storm I release you without construal
Take your power and freedom and wreak as you will
Ever and always, for my aims remain unfulfilled
Then hurry, you nebulous weights of mine
Fly, fly till you find others of your kind
Perhaps in others' minds or in the black
Fly for you are not meant to turn back
Ex Tempore LXXVII
M.M. — 20-Apr-2014
Birthed from fire, fly through the sky
Like wisps of wonder whispered in dead of night
Soar free, unfettered from silence's bite
Unfurl your sails and course through the seas
Through my mind's oceans go forth from me
Search for wherever your destination lies
Whether in empyreal heights or otherwise
The infinite cage of my mind is too confined for you
So like flood and storm I release you without construal
Take your power and freedom and wreak as you will
Ever and always, for my aims remain unfulfilled
Then hurry, you nebulous weights of mine
Fly, fly till you find others of your kind
Perhaps in others' minds or in the black
Fly for you are not meant to turn back
Ex Tempore LXXVII
M.M. — 20-Apr-2014
19 April 2014
Sundown in Cardiff
The sun falls in Cardiff
and amber suffuses onto building and bystander.
Onto bricks and rooftops and in the trees
the dying golden light casts itself
as the earth's warmth recedes.
I walk along with music in my ears,
a silent observer in a city of glass and concrete.
In all the windows I see sundown mirrored,
sundown and the world itself reflected.
I have been here before,
in another time, another place—
but it is as it has always been:
walking through the city and watching the pace of life.
Here the faces are the same,
and so too the movements;
but each, as I have come to know, is unique and individual.
Amber scatters its terminal magic as it has always done,
but this city is but another in the journey.
I will ever be the observer,
but an observer of a world of my own choosing.
Ex Tempore LXXVI
M.M. — 19-Apr-2014
and amber suffuses onto building and bystander.
Onto bricks and rooftops and in the trees
the dying golden light casts itself
as the earth's warmth recedes.
I walk along with music in my ears,
a silent observer in a city of glass and concrete.
In all the windows I see sundown mirrored,
sundown and the world itself reflected.
I have been here before,
in another time, another place—
but it is as it has always been:
walking through the city and watching the pace of life.
Here the faces are the same,
and so too the movements;
but each, as I have come to know, is unique and individual.
Amber scatters its terminal magic as it has always done,
but this city is but another in the journey.
I will ever be the observer,
but an observer of a world of my own choosing.
Ex Tempore LXXVI
M.M. — 19-Apr-2014
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