Entropy With Sunbeams by Crimson-Stains, literature
Literature
Entropy With Sunbeams
Sun alights on a window pane of the ordinary -
refracted into seven streams of consciousness.
A yellow morphing through blues to become,
beautiful green flowing from the nature of the grasses lining the sill.
A blue collides with red to spill forth radiant hues of purple
settling upon the petals of the pansy.
Colourful patterns borne from the light of life,
soaked in as chlorophyll; warming the cool pallid skin of winter.
Grateful, as one ought, to the warmth of entropy
cascading about in the form of little beams.
Oh for the beauty of these waves and particles
that one may be the observer of such an experiment as life.
For my Brother -
There was a time when we were young;
you protected me.
Now we are grown we are equals in the world of chaos
and aroha.
Yet still - you protect me - and I
(as I have always done)
comfort you.
We live our lives by seperate minds and different paths;
but our blood binds us.
We are one; moulded from the same clay-bed.
Grown upon the same earth.
Dearest Brother: you are the rock upon which as a Tuatara,
slow and precise,
I may lay in the sun and warm myself to life.
And I am the house in which you may sit
by the fire
and shelter from the storms of emotion and thought
as the spill forth from your
beaten armour
Nothing and Everything by Crimson-Stains, literature
Literature
Nothing and Everything
There is nothing in the world that can stop me
"Wait!"
Except that. Your voice screaming at me, my anger surfaces
wave upon wave is attacking my psyche and I
blurt out
"Fuck off, leave me to go"
You grab it from my hands and start to yell again, you are bereft.
You CANNOT save me.
"Wait!"
I don't belong in the waiting room anymore, I explain you walk out.
There is nothing in the world that can stop me
There is only you.
We are always bound by fragments-
little shards that pierce this skin
that we have tried to make so thick.
Wearily we peer out from little slits
we have cut.
Looking out from a place of built safety
for a compatible shelter.
Woven together through misplaced irony
and pity, but also love,
until emotion wavers and all that resides is:
You.
So frail
is the thin cotton that pulls us together
holding us thread by thread until eventually,
we fall apart; a pile of simple string
sitting on the earth.
There is a whole in my mind
as it plays out in front of myself.
Far removed am I.
Pearls and flowers stained
orbiting from words whispered
"Follow Me".
Three lines and a stop;
something poised and worn.
It is not a cliché if you feel it. Right?
He is dead and the blood
is staining the flowers red.
Is he breathing?
I try to believe in the scene
almost at a point of applause
as my curtain falls around me.
Battlements and words built
in woods of paper, while salt
rains down on new realities.
It has passed now. Pain lingers
upon the wisdom I once had-
a whole life and such mysterious creatures.
We are, happy?
All I can muster is a weak smile as words pour through wires.
My eyes bask in tears, colour blighted from sparkling spheres
by anguish.
I recall your image; my mind's eye is scattered on a million pieces of broken mirror starring with pained eyes and smile.
All I can see is myself, my pain.
Without ill intention: I hope you are hurting too. Hapless wanderer, I caught you in the headlights
Our time was a countdown to One-
Ready.
Breathe.
ONE
However pain is an edge I have over no one; my battle is only small.
I am sliding down the rabbit-hole into the dizzying void.
Click and the pain will end.
It was over in an afternoon.
If I lie still enough will the cars headlights fade in the drip-drop of the rain?
Will the rains mist shroud everything: cars, people, roads and trees in a fuming orange glow?
And will the mist fade?
I cannot see.
Will I be forgotten and forged in my death by neglect? Will I be missing?
Missing as if existence was ordained upon me?
It was not. I may die if I choose.
And will the memory of one lone person resurrect my nature?
If I am remembered at all I have won a small battle over time.
But I want to know, if I lay still enough will I cease to exist?
"Exist"
Yes my friend. Will I cease to exist?
A Love Letter From Revel by Crimson-Stains, literature
Literature
A Love Letter From Revel
I ordered a mocha today.
A big bowl in a brown mug and mismatched plate.
I am at our cafe missing you; a lonely cigarette is burning in the ashtray.
Here am I sitting watching the cars keep passing
red light to green light,
and the people just walk past me.
They are rivers of traffic on our busy street.
None of them remind me of you.
I never noticed before perched where I am in our hot-seat-
the intricacies of architecture around the area we live.
Buildings squashed together in years past;
they are reminiscent of a past economy
and a time before our lives began together.
The Verona building stands short and squat next to St. Ke