Archive for Dustus Blog

The Human Drive

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , on July 10, 2019 by dustus

I’ll sit & watch…
The smooth gentle sway

Of dune grass ruffled wind
Feel old fear
Melt through
 waves
—Warming blood & skin

I sense the ocean calling here

That conscience sound within
A love that seldom seems to fly

When driven to just live

Dædalus

Posted in Blog, Poetry, writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on June 19, 2019 by dustus

…I believe that prison tower confining your physical freedom stood stuccoed pale ivory and flaking; drab in comparison to having built a structurally sound edifice—to entrap others lost within its maddening labyrinth—predicated upon your slipping into irony’s goat-skinned moccasins…

Thus made to walk the remaining measured steps of life not unlike your meandering victim’s did in their ensnared shoes…

However; you dream a way out—a series of epiphanies all knowing well the potential catastrophes ensuing possible design flaws…

Having reasoned obsessively; then learning to soar through selfsame determination—

As simple as water flow,
Rivulets turning back upon themselves
Beginning to end one; or nature’s inspiration
Out of the very flight of birds
Perhaps traversing over a security moat
& drawbridge

Such wanton ingenuity ultimately kills your beloved young son who wanted to be like his father; dead at the hands of his old man’s invention.

A few shed feathers floating upon the seas’s surface tension marking the crash site.

Later in life, you attempt to murder your brightest protégé: out of envy for being second woven wicker fiddle chair—that pent rage of being out shined from inferior self-concept (it was all too much indeed).

So, how did you live with yourself?  Your namesake and legacy revered, many times over, most notably in James Joyce’s masterpiece (he suffered beholden & led by your bullshit). Moreover lost in multifaceted holographic air and light, chimeras of meaning and language cast into words through time fashioned hooks, lines, and baited yet reeling back nyet.

                                                                    But when my mother died. Not only did I kneel (non-believing at the time), I soon thereafter heaved that burden of erudite garbage out that pigeon grey smashed window of reality—which held me mentally captive in a tower not unlike the two of you;

a golden red-faced American finch perched upon that ledge the second it reopened, and while secured yet unmoved, my mind finally freed itself.

 

Malignant Heart

Posted in Poetry, Short Poems with tags , , , , , , on February 15, 2019 by dustus

I had a malignant heart
Past beating to decay

Fire filled its pulsing chambers
Purged my coursing veins

Hopelessness and self-contempt
Died among those flames…
And while no phoenix ever rose
Nor any angel’s face did show
I felt self-love regained

Spiritual Crisis

Posted in Poetry, Short Poems, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , on February 11, 2019 by dustus

Writing kept me sharp
Tempers my dull mind
But this is not the type of note
That makes me feel alive

Royal Pain

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on February 8, 2019 by dustus

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Bring me that Court Jester
He thinks he is a scribe
I shall kill this royal pain
Snuff out his silly life!

Send him to the guillotine
We’ll watch his swelled head roll
Then let our knight take one last kick–
An American field goal!