Filigree.

Lettered in decorative filigree,
in a language as old as history,
carved along into ancient stone,
words that cut me to the very bone;
a message of archaic and ancient redundancy,
written in a lost language, once spoken globally,
this was no permanent resting place for the dead,
just a slice out of time to get right in the head;

there were spoken aloud then, unexpectedly,
words that were heard by the dark heart in me,
in a voice that rang with blood as mine own,
urging my feet to keep trudging towards home;

“You cannot decide now to give up and lie down…”
at the very same moment my face hit the ground,
“it’s not up to you to resign or to retreat…
do what you must to act and move on, immediately…”
The words seemed to be spoken exclusively,
to those of old who died down on their’ knees,
no mistaking such an undertaking is not meant for me,
so I rise in rebellion and keep shuffling my feet.

Propinquity.

It is all born
of a unique fact
the long-gone act
of the way we tie
closely together
through space and time;
the closeness defined
stronger than steel
your back against mine;
knowledge of Life
given to us by;
the archaically blessed
and most ancient of divine;
passed along down
a dried-out bloodline;
the circumstance
concocted like potion
of happenstance;
that tickling, vague notion
rolling and bending
like the tides in the ocean;
but never broken
beneath such crushing mass
a written word –
not anything spoken;
the act of
being based upon;
a kindred spiritual root
that grows deep and ever-long;
they tried to bury
something so incredibly strong
a truth they’ve kept in secrecy
and in the midst
of their stupidity,
the feebleness makes them forget
a scary variant
the element
of our propinquity.

Filigree.

Lettered in decorative filigree,
in a language as old as history,
carved along into ancient stone,
words that hit me to the bone:

“You cannot decide here and now to lie down…”
right in the place my tired face hits the ground,
“it’s not up to you to resign or retreat…
do what you must to get back on your feet…”

These words seemed to be written exclusively,
for the eyes of those who died down on their’ knees,
no mistaking such an undertaking is not the end for me,
unless I stay here, where I’ve stumbled to fade out in misery…

Propinquity.

 chaingang university

the act of being tied

closely together

through space and time;

the closeness defined

stronger than steel

a back against mine;

a knowledge of the divine

passed along down

a dried-out bloodline;

the circumstance

repeating itself over

of happenstance;

that tickling sense, a notion

rolling and bending

like the tides in the ocean;

but never broken

beneath its crushing mass

a written word – not one spoken;

the act of being based upon

a kindred, genetic root

that grows deep and long;

a truth they’ve kept in secrecy

overlooking completely,

an element of our propinquity.