Solemn Things

Lost boys look for their mothers
behind shrubs and trees
Or so I read. I read they cry
under a blanket of clouds
and eat berries in the morning.

If decades were charms on a titan's arm
and lives fall off like lint time after time,
I guess to look for one you have to crouch
and turn over leaf after leaf after
Leave the dead where they've fallen

seems to be the call of retreat.
Those who cling to the chain
are always drawn to look back.
It's only natural, I suppose,
that lost boys seek mother.

The ultimate battle is the battle to cling
and not unfasten the self from the link.
Collateral damage is the left behind,
the craning necks, ever searching.
Why do mothers let go?

Boys will be boys, even lost ones.
The moon compels them to fly closer.
The wind is a caress on their hair.
Boys will be boys, even men.
Men will be boys, again.

Death Anxiety

It was the middle of night
when breaths stir air slowly
and nightmares descend
I was awake

When light goes out it can return
and water flows all over the world
above ground, below ground, it flows.
What of me?

That night horror clapped its hands
and sudden black draped my eyes
what will happen of me
when I die?

How can I ever say again,
"Life goes on," when it will stop
and I will be gone. How can I ever say,
"Later"?

What are the moments before death like?
Is it like sleeping, as they say?
Is it a silent scream? Is it peace?
Is it decay?

Will I rise and fall like water?
Will I simply become dust?
My self. My will. What will become
of "Me"?

Dragonheart

What thinking of you does to me

Breathing sulfur from an exhaled flame

The plumes curl over my head

twins of fire plunder my chest

Inhale, exhale

I've always thought, "Conflagration,

how painful to be scorched

much more to be entombed

in a spiral of fire." Ha!

This is joy.

Your breath sets me glowing from within

When you rose above the horizon

With wings and claws and fangs

Magnificently, like the moon.

Below you this creature stirred

And gaped and laughed and cried.

My arms reached for your embrace,

Frisky as a monkey.

Yes, breath fire. Fly steep

Fly hard. Fly strong.

My heart, you are my heart.

My joy, you are my joy.

I rush up to meet smoke and heat

Love, without ashes.

Copyright 2015 Cristina T. Cheng

posted from Bloggeroid

posted from Bloggeroid

Message Sent

Tap tapping the sound is silent 
but in the synapses within this device

I imagine arcs of light and heat
whorls of energy you recognize
and only you.

In another plane there is a song
not silent but angry 
doomed nonchalant angry
fated capsizing.

Pull down the bar at the top
long-press to refresh memory

at the ready it waits 
for my electronic alphabet
missive to space.

Where does energy go?

Inside an artificial mind
do dreams collapse from chaos?
Or do they find proof?
Dreams of windows and bars
and vistas so far away.

I know this won’t get lost.

In numbers I trust.
Numbers do not doom the hopeful
and the mad.

My fingerprints send these words
to you. Long press. Refresh.

Copyright Cristina Cheng 2015