Coils

A coil tightens with every movement
Each struggle is a new bruise
Blood and crushed bone pressed to the surface
The shape of man transforms
Into symbols of currency, pleasures, and pride

A suffocating air hovers above the court
A lawn of dust replaces the lush green
Carved stone, marble, and priceless metals
Coat burning rubble, scattered pieces of clockwork
Under the monuments built to honor progress

The great buildings tilt to opposite directions
Their windows are intact only at the top
But like everything below their oasis
They will also succumb to the fate of the foundation
That falters and decays in the struggle against time

The Grip

Listening to the sounds
Of an army marching
From the North
He prepares a shelter
And buries his soul beneath a barricade
Then he waits for the sky
To open like a fatal wound
To wash the salt away
His steady hands build a fire
As his knees tremble
Knowing the warmth will be irrelevant
Once his grip is cold

The Ferry

The ferry slowly moves across the river
Oblivious to a passenger left behind
Even if he was noticed
The boat cannot return quickly
So he sits and waits at the dock
His feet swinging over the water

He marvels at his inability to catch up to
Something traveling so slowly
He smiles and laughs at the inconvenience
Because there is little else he can do
But to pause and enjoy
A sunny day with a view

Of ships and barges and passengers
The captains and their crews
Transporting a precious cargo
Creating a massive wake
That travels past a liquid line
And gradually dissipates

The completion of his list

A simple display on a red table
Facing a window with a view
Of a great inheritance
Reveals a few important artifacts
A parchment scroll bound by a gold ribbon
And sealed with royal wax
Containing a list of plausible fantasies
And of rare, but tangible goods
Inked ornately and calligraphic
Of what the master plans to do
And the things he plans to consume
Before he dies

An inventory of what has been accomplished
What he has tasted and what he has not
Is meticulously guarded
Anticipation of its completion
Grows with each passing day
That he may finally break the seal
And fulfill the prophecy it contains
Next to the scroll
Is a crystal bottle filled with a rare, old brandy
The finest that can be obtained
And only available to the most exclusive
Members of his club

Near the bottle is a snifter
Resting on its side
With a candle under the balloon
Warming the contents
As he carefully turns the glass
The air of the room fills
With the bouquet of the heir's drink
An unlit parejo awaits a V cut
And awaits a fire to be lit at the tip
Just as the loaded pistol to its left awaits
The completion of his list

The Heat

The heat presses forward
Unsure of every movement
Doubting whether it can sustain motion
Progress stands in the way of progression
Force resisting force
As the temperature slows
And the force kneels
Still crawling
The heat is converted into spirit
Steam released with the turn of a valve
Only to be pressed against
The repetition of an outer layer
As the pressure again slows
And the potential grows
Two forces in opposition
Waver on the dust

Sun drops in millennium

Sun drops in millennium
Seashells and tide
The fallen remnants of change
The stalling lament of time
One piece of God's skeleton
Decaying light at dawn
Spreads like heated paraffin
Thins and then it's gone
The glowing eyes of majesty
Swirling stare of hate
The treasures of an empire
Glorify the State