Tempest

The storm brewed within him for years
Gradually building in strength and ferocity
Deep in the jails of his mind, the confined parts
A rage, an inevitable liberation? Yes - a maturation
One wrought of elements and moulded by time
The vortex swirled and swirled, aflame
All that was false and pretence compacted into a singularity
Cast off into nothingness, the oblivion of the past
And in its place came trumpeting a primordial light
From the upheaving tempest came forth his soul
Prised from the veiled abyss of a dead self
And with it, a new kingdom, a reign of light
Such that he, at last, was now truly sovereign of himself

M.M. — 30-Dec-2014

Lady of the Veil

Shining like a sun-kissed jewel
But light hidden from view
The Lady of the Veil spoke of such designs
Freedom in a world of confines

Held up in such high regard
But one not of her own desire
How could she be kept under guard
When in her chest raged a secret fire?

To say no when yes was the expected word
To liberate a mind caged in boredom
Unsheathe with all her natural passion her sword
And cut down the lies of a decrepit kingdom

The Lady: to be a warrior or a maiden?
But in truth she was both, and never compromising
Just as feminine as she was brazen heroine
Exuding a woman's grace and at once disruption rising

So she armed herself with great weapons
Steeling her mind with knowledge's might
Courage for her heart to continue her war on
All so that she may one day let shine that hidden light

M.M. — 30-Dec-2014

A Half-Dream

Partly written on the edge of oncoming sleep

Found myself again in a crop of stars
Reaped by own impossible hands
Light turned dense and thick
Perception gradually lost with the
Amounting ponderousness
A plunging into the deep dark within
A dark coloured of yester-memories and
Unbridled lustful fantasy
Sequences infinite in scope and breadth
And myself lost in the night-forest
A forest of speaking stars

M.M. — 28-Dec-2014

Notes on Time

The greatest curse of being human
is not so much that we feel or are aware that we exist,
but rather, that we feel or are aware that we exist through time.

The humdrum repetitions inside my head
only worsen the realisation that we are able to remember
the past, to think upon our future in light of our past,
making it all so much more poignantly exacting.

Yes, cursed be time.
Our bones rattle like the rattle of dice,
like the rattling of the universe.
I can see it in my hands;
I look at it in the creases of my face.
The maddening of it all.
As we stretch ourselves,
and are stretched by time—
how we struggle to even perceive it.

But blessed be time,
for in it is our salvation.
Just as in it are the hopes of unwritten futures.

Though it is with the weight of time
that we suffer in anguish;
it is time, and through time,
that we seek our own salvation.
We feverously desire to leap
through the continual affliction, to the point
of catharsis, of release;
wishing things would be so much easier—but they are not.

Time is slaver.
And yet time is salvation.

M.M. — 27-Dec-2014

Benighted winter come

Darkness the shroud has come again, cloaking your ever enervating body and shadowing the outer edges of your mind. Coldness, with serrated teeth, gnaws on flesh and your flame. Now you are but bones for the succumbing heralded by winter's clarion call. The call - its chill - frosty breath - speaks volumes of the declines and recessions. Of the shortening of day and dimming of light are the themes written and lived in this darkening time. Your night lengthens like death spreading out its robes of pitched eternity. Frosted scripts dictated by tenebrous thoughts deep in the hollows of an overcome spirit. And neither the world around is left spared. The timbered limbs of trees - ruined monuments of nature in cycle - stand bare and exalt, in unwilling morbid ostentation, the conqueror season. Your embattled body and its trials against the iced speared pricks of winter winds soldier through the darkened days and night's dominion. And it is through this - through the frozen, silent halls of winter - through benighted winter come - that you struggle and survive.

M.M. — 04-Dec-2014 

Truth and love

In an age where knowledge and information is free, accessible and omnipresent more than ever before in history, there still pervades contrarily a great degree of falsehood. Whilst the perpetuation and embracing of disinformation, misinformation and outright lies is a powerful thing indeed, Truth, I think, will always be much more potent a force. Take love. I think it is fair to say that in the modern day, the term "love" is quite a fluid and flexible notion in constant evolution. This makes defining love a less than straightforward affair. However, no matter how fluid or flexible one may deem love to be, I hold that love must above all be True. In the face of expectation, compromise and dictation from culture, society, religion, politics, our peers and, yes, even from our own selves - love must stand strong, love must stand tall, love must stand true. For if I am to assert that lies, deceit and aspersions are vicious tongues slathering the peoples of this planet with spittle into our eyes on a daily basis, then I do so whilst also brandishing this weapon: that love is Truth, and in this truth there abounds an indefinable source of strength and enlightenment that can tear away the veil that obfuscates the sight of us all.

"When the wolves return"

When the wolves return to the room, and ravage and rage once again, swarming and tearing you and themselves apart, seek the calm in the midst of chaos. The brooks and the slow rivers flow from the centre-mind. When the walls begin to crack and collapse once more, entwine with the still beating, still fighting heart. The world continues to whirl round but you must continue reversed; fall away from the ever-descending stair. Hold fast, hold on to strength, even in the savage slaughter of the wolves, and always bite back.

Ex Tempore LXXXIX
M.M. — 11-Oct-2014 

"Come the end"

Come the end, at the edge
of the desert of night,
we took in one last terminal breath--
one last reason to fight--
and saw all that we once were;
all that we once had.
And realised that life past
was all we ever wanted,
all that we wished for and more.
So there at the crossing
we fell to the starless floor
and hurt and burst and birthed
and rose again, aflame, once more.

Ex Tempore LXXXVIII
M.M. — 24-Sep-2014 

"Inside me, inside you"

Inside me, inside you,
Inside us all: a tree.
In every tree, and every leaf,
In every root: a life.
From death, from life,
From all between: a time.
Come time, comes dreams,
Comes what you are: a being.
Being here, and one day to be gone,
Be full and be all: be your own song.

Ex Tempore LXXXVII
M.M. — 02-Oct-2014

"Salvation shall be found in my fall"

Salvation shall be found in my fall
When I am cast down from dogmatic heights
I will fall toward the phalanxes of Love
And its upward-pointed piercing spears
Into the arms and caresses of the inner shining light
That dwells deep within the earthen mould
The mould of ash and gold, of flesh and stardust
A dweller in darkness become, to prise wide eyes
Seeking Promethean flame in the ice-plains of the South
Wanderer, the wanderer in the night, bringer of light
Forsaking self to rebuild atom by atom the self
Or perhaps to grow and to evolve and to form
The residual echoes of a long-muffled song
Will be symphony once more, and down on the floor
I gaze upon the vault of the celestial sphere
And ready my throbbing, outstretched pinions
To ascend as unshackled son, son of the sun

Ex Tempore LXXXVI
M.M. — 07-Sep-2014