Vortex Pen

The clock strikes the time but you are still awake, Thinking & thinking about the day that awaits. Where you stand on the bridge in stillness & fear, For the monstrous scream that driven you here. Beneath you is a murky firth, between the two ends complain, The oceans you spun and you must sail strong. Your mind would be against to sail, But your heart should tell you to prevail. To be stronger but lighter than ever again. Hold on for the euphoric, Endured to conflate the numb prosaic. Silent the monster’s scream, To shine through the cold & dark dream. Triumph the battle over mysterious pain, Because there will be sunshine, no more rain. You can run away from the tears, Through the laughter of loved ones you must hear. You have all the right! And it is how the wounded souls bright. Cycle the storm until you drown, Push the thought of suicide away & and put the knife down. ---------------------------------------------

Onliest man who lay hands on self and figure fingers on behalf; With the fore and middle knuckled on the cheekbone; Is the god of thoughts, with a blade on my throat? Is it most of you, but, not always me? To get right I come to you; When I'm finna interview. When I'm finna party. When I must stunt, I come to you- So sometimes it's me the Lionheart, face like stones,      Except when you are woebegone. Sometimes it's you who battles the whole hour,      But I line up the empire. No matter how dark the eyes shrink and how the skin to the brink. No matter how soft my body or how many eyes find it and peel, When I walk in destiny, I am all above the empire.

“These days everyone is writing their final book,” Bonney notes in  Our Death  (Commune Editions, 2019), published just a month before he died.  The ANNEX 1.0 commensurate with the fevered, queasy, anxious, often tedious nature of the current global mood.     The boor world is filled with more masks than human faces.     Carnal mortals now wear the mask that grins and lies,     Where it hides the cheeks and it’s shaded eyes.     The debt is paid to human guilt,     With torn hearts faking smile and mouth with myriad subtleties.     How the world is over-wise in counting all our tears and sighs!     Nay, let them only see the adequate, while the lummox wears the mask.     People today smile,     But, the cries, from tortured souls arise to Christ.     People today sing,     But, the clay beneath is so vile, that the feet run down against the mile.         So let’s play the right cards in the game of life. Underneath the luminous stars on the black c

Current drifting below me! I see you face to face! Clouds of the north, swirling my psyche to haze, Stars fearing from the stormy rage, Birds fading away from the fuss of grave. A crowd of men and women in casuals, how curious you are to me! I had crossed the ferry of the scratch old, But never felt the agitation with that cold, Seeing the reflection of your sharps that bold, Had my eyes winked to the hazels you hold? Others will board the ferry and cross from coast to coast, Others will see the highland cosmic and little, Others will see the shipping from south to north, But we will enjoy the wayfaring sun sinking. You have waited, you bold beautiful minister, I fathom you - I love you - there is perfection in you, You furnish parts towards eternity, Great or small you furnish your parts towards my serendipity.

Time could carry weight to the cemetery, To the graves full of lonely blistery bones, To the soil of sinking skin and thirsty blood, To the blathering heart hitting through the tunnel.  If death is charitable and there it is early,  We will conk to earth some fragrant night, Taking these lanes to be mossbacked to a fossil, And shall be happy for the dead reality. If we lose ourselves tonight, we will be dead inside; If we build the hate in mind, we will be extinct from kind; If we carry the grudge in heart, we will be a roiled hearth; If we kill ourselves behind, we will be the lost fossil in the wild.

She is the skipper at the porch with a storm of perfume, Husky are her eyes as the Correa dusky, Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her hairs dark as the queen of the night. Then spake to an old sailor, "Last night, the moon had a golden ring, And tonight its blur, we see! I pray thee, put into a port, For I fear a hurricane." Sharper and deafening blew the wind, Gales from the northeast, The snow fell hissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like a cleanser. Down came the storm, The vessel in her strength; It didn't shudder her, unlike a frighted steed, She just wrapped the storm in her sea man's coat. She lashed the helm, all stiff and strong, With all face turned to the skies, The lantern cutting through the blurry sky, And she fixed the storm with her glassy eyes.