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Someday Soon

August 15, 2010 (Sun)

I can’t wait. One day far or near into the future, my words will be re-spoken, awakening a memory of significance in motion, salvation through a Creator of my choice, and followers will find meaning through my ludicrous insistence, instances of miracles and revelations which awaken old passions and which dull the inner cries, independent [...]

I Am Not Him, But He Is Me

February 6, 2009 (Fri)

Some friendships are meant to be remembered, and some are easily forgotten. But then there are some friendships that have a way of inflicting themselves on you. They grasp you by your guilty obligations, your quiet frustrations. Private notions of loyalty and compassion degrade over time, varnished by a silenced eternity of stifled resentment. These [...]

Fear Into Pieces

October 14, 2008 (Tue)

A common age and a common name, how low we bow to common pains, the like mistakes dictated by complacency, familiar trembling aches decaying the root of reason, the tides of time sweeping swooning plops ashore in granite rhythm sea of the wincing stewards of change Past we roll, oblivious to the bloody sky on [...]

On Being Saved

August 28, 2006 (Mon)

Define salvation. The mind immediately grasps for explanations of the metaphysical, recollections of the mystical, wisps of stardust and Divine refuse, ethereal trails of holy time, thoughts, visions, majestic myths. The Divine. We all have some joker in the sky to blame for our joys and our woes, existence of flesh, the theoretical residence of [...]

For Ben

April 17, 2006 (Mon)

Stories never begin with “Once upon a time” anymore. I imagine there must have been a time when “Once upon a time” was the noblest salutation a storyteller could say to preface his tales. No longer, I guess. Compulsion urges us for constant change — and so we bend a little each time so that [...]

What Mumia Knows

January 20, 2005 (Thu)

Sooner than never they change at each stage they stage each arrangement through fictional shapes formed to fool they play with words as if nothing ever disrupted the stream of eternal monotony You can’t change what you can’t name so ignorance they teach us from an early age dressing their lies with the bind that [...]

Cross

October 25, 2004 (Mon)

Hands, they betray me like dissident fiends disrupting the gradual flow and how they sting with each frosted touch cold tips, those mocking digit spears all comfort shooting pains in veins inflamed knuckles reeling protruding in rhythmic vibraphone time like a rippling wave through a crooked spine. -Kevin Zing