ST74 ... Poem from just above the ground

i am a restless writer.... i write with a broken language.

‘i write for no one and see with a single eye’…

i am a restless writer
i can twist words in on themselves
stretch paragraphs for no reason
i can sing syllables into existence
force letters to fall broken with light
i write for no one and see with a single eye
i am ready within the wind with another spinning dice
i am an illusion, a veil, a shimmering light
my name is Hidden, 'protector of the thin'
i traveled through seven dimensions to see your face, here, within
i am a writer, i write with a broken language
a crippled view across the land
i am a saviour hiding in the lowlands
i own no answers for any one
with a song sung from eternity
and a simple kiss flying thru the night

I am a writer, i write long and tender
thru the haze of belief 
and the dazzling distance
i am you as you are me
trapped in words
free, free to see

'minds that think they know
our hearts needs
with wired words, connected
watching truth fade
thru that dark space
between'

i am a writer
of tattoos of epitaphs and numbers
i am a man
with no home, no name
in your streets
under your roads
i am your brother
mistaken for another
i am a writer
of rust and flowers

i am a writer of miracles and drowning souls - skulls frozen across the plains

I have been on your doorsteps
with flannels and words
peddling and peeling
screaming, whispering, and flying
through the ruins
i am a writer of miracles 
and drowning souls
faint flakes of snow and flames
across valleys, low
i write of walking to another shore
where dreams meet and wounds awake
that clear and tender space
where ends die
and recreate

'skulls frozen across the plains
words trapped inside clausal closets
electric volts stuffed in dreams
waiting for a great writer to explode
from the hells of mediocrity
where fear slips back against
where walls of broken beauty, sins'

i am a writer
i write as the day breaks
as it sits still
as it folds into the night
i have no ambition to awaken you
i breathe words like a train 
sucked into a station 
than disappearing
down tracks of fading time.

i breathe words like a train

Buy me an americano !

WeyWord Times / Writing and Images by Patrick Wey

Hang Me Up…. Images

If you’re wandering around down here amongst these paragraphs and rusted trains, say hello, hit a link, crack a button. Dragging words thru this swamp, can drown you, if your shoes are heavy….