Walking on Air Collection Vol. 1

1997 2012

Walking on Air Book 1 Poetry composed in the spaces of time during travel and upheavals‌

Daniel Wordsmith Praymore Royal Order of the House of David

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Index Page Poem 1

Bequeathed Honor

Page 3

Poem 2

Placated Out of Existence

Page 5

Poem 3

The Feud

Page 6

Poem 4

Ancient Angst

Page 7

Poem 5

Maple Tree Sugaring Off

Page 9

Poem 6

Resurrection

Page 11

Poem 7

Vegetable Noodles

Page 12

Poem 8

Adaptation

Page 13

Poem 9

yet again

Page 15

Poem 10

Abandon

Page 16

Poem 11

The Abbey of Death

Page 17

Poem 12

Will They Meet Again?

Page 19

Poem 13

Almost Done

Page 21

Poem 14

Humble hope

Page 23

Poem 15

Spastic death

Page 24

Poem 16

The Enchanted Griffin Folk

Page 27

Poem 17

Who Will Ever See?

Page 28

Poem 18

Warped Imagination

Page 29

Poem 19

Rejuvination

Page 31

Poem 20

The harlot

Page 32

Poem 21

Directions

Page 33

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#1 Bequeathed Honor

Surely I knew it not; yet stars, planets and a peeping moon knew all along the running feet now traversing Earth's deep, deep stone forest shod with shoes of willingness, dancing to danger while trees and lichen moss applaud, carry a mighty warrior to unending battle.

Not much is left anymore of a once great and magnificent land where eagles flew, where wildlife roamed, where fishes frolicked and oceans foamed, where air was clean, and crisp, and sweet: where a stolen kiss convulsed the mighty inspiring both young and old this ancient story of bravery is told.

Beset on many sides by selfrighteous lust and expediency, since birth I've seen wanton hate and destruction: no longer can I keep silent or stand idle by!

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Nature's wrath I command in just retribution to entangle Earth's foes: a fearsome double edged sword I carry to my enemy's dark heart, a helmet of truth, life and love, chainmail of virtue under my vest, a cummerbund of uprightness winds my waist and ensures the birthright meant for me.

Once again sounds the horn of warrior King David: echoes throb through crowns of trees and bush, lonely tones of long forgotten song emits in painful quanta hitch hiking on swarms of birds and insects: flow in fluid motion swiftly approaching faces flush with fearsome anticipation: will this time spell annihilation?

Jun 13, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#2 Placated Out of Existence

Insufferable social-works: a bane of banal sops to raise the quality of discontent leaving self-respect in the lurch to simply evaporate with the EMI or constant re-possessive menace; like stale beer farts tenaciously cling to whatever inner-wear cuddles them: government tax breaks, state Medicare, yes in fact myriads and myriads of subtle bribes ensures public silence thus exercising and satisfying the voting masses, and ditto, ditto, ditto‌

Jun 16, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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The Feud

Bow-twang snaps reverberate through the night, arrows swish and slither death in random flight: none are safe none can be sheltered umber colored huts burn shale roofs crash: trance-like demons tear, rip and slash; children encumbered with confusion condone the carnage, assuming just retribution is to thoroughly atone: a village haven salutes unseen tips of pain, loss, and foul play, history's didactic recurrence decimates mortals and flay to coerce for imagined gain‌

Jun 16, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#4 Ancient Angst

Silently oh ever so silently slight stirrings in your soul belies calmness displayed on your usual taut poker-face gnarled with anger-scowls and an unseemly dreadful wart reflecting some sort of abrupt defiance that never achieved the desired effect one might have surmised wanted to obscure the irrefragable facts that ugliness can be most apt and hence intriguing when digested appropriately in relation to the spacetime norm offered by ground reality we encounter here on our death-valley journey; of course, those years have not been too kind all around when one thinks about bygones and the painful memories elicited contemplating loveless dramas in banal sequences, which have dominated your otherwise boring existence gushed from fate flowed awry only to shipwreck on the shoals of your vacant mind void of imagination or creative impetus, just simply vegetating maintained by the current of routine impulses sent from this 7

encompassing environment imposed by the insane-asylum where society locked you up in a prison of their own design ethnically cleansing elected political correctness; but you never really understood any of their deceit and I'm so unable to transmit anything of intrinsic value to your conscious awareness that I only give you whatever love I have left over after being scrutinized by authorities that prevail and thus dictate my social conduct to concur with the insatiable megalomania infesting their political egoism presented as uplifting promises of prosperity with progress, and so peace...

Sep 3, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#5 Maple Tree Sugaring Off

Cold as a witch's teat frosty bits of ice-puffs conquer my windowpane reminding me of woolens and mittens needed now, here before dawn as I shudder to exit my quilt.

Gotta get to set the maple sap-spouts while it is yet dark and temperature below zero, you know?

Ah! There they stand in awesome array sturdy praises to nature's display: amazing power yet gentle delight stupendous pillars of self-sustaining might, abode for countless insects and beings sustainer of requirements' basic id; Maple trees enable these functions of banal reality, converting needs into marvelous feeds enjoyment guaranteed.

Majesty will not suffice as description of the magic coursing through the veins of life this magnificent tree bequeaths 9

in succulent sap: spirit potency in ever-sacrificing ecstasy.

Since some days the huge sap-basin's been boiling, boiling, boiling and boiling colorless luscious maple liquid transforming it into brownish crystallized goo...

Our old mare ain't what she used to be; yet, pulling the rickety sleigh 'bout the towering trees somehow still happens so bucket by bucket by bucket more and more sap is gathered.

Looking forward to the final day, the ancestral fulfillment; much care and effort is expended waiting for that ultimate moment: with music and dance and laughter and song hot goo is flung into the air onto the snow there to contract, and crunch in crystal might: telescopic sculpture of sugar lumps, true Canadian Maple Tree blood line guaranteed to offset any bad spell what the hell...

Floral carpeted prairies, majestic mountains and royal streams, fantasia forests, trees raise their hands to honor creation in maple leaf dreams: air crisp and clean, land unending and will unbending trees are the envy of our Earth, free life, free birth...

Oct 12, 2010.

Š All rights reserved 10

#6 Resurrection

Life death bequeathed an extension: drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop, drip… swimming sweltering sweat pearls swiping blood-stained gashes from knouted lashes: acid on tender skin for skin.

Perhaps was it predestined?

Perhaps was it chance?

Perhaps was it organized chaos?

Perhaps was it a dance?

A dance macabre to bring on light; would be sacrifice turning midday to night: space-time duality // infinite singularity…

Who’d dare have presumed when the body was exhumed Joseph’s sarcophagus was bare?

There was no one there!

Jul 13, 2010. © All rights reserved

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#7 Vegetable Noodles

water boils snap essence dissolves wheat snakes limber fork lifts to ingest soup boosts energy-level satisfaction guaranteed

Jul 13, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#8 Adaptation

I really don’t mind so much anymore, you know it’s sort of like well the sunbeams are my own, can keep them for a spell while they last that is: sometimes they trick me with a no show or maybe they come and go, they’re my floor clock tell me when it’s feed time or turnkey inspection or sweet, sweet sleep into whatever-land; used to be an actor you know not much success though, always chasing bill payment cash… but here the stage is mine: the lights, the props, the audience, just have to stare at the bricks shared with an old rat like me, ha!

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always popular on this stage, nobody throws me out you know nobody boos or cheers, always popular nobody cares: they’ll hang me tomorrow you know been waiting for 29 years; that’ll be the big stage lots of live ones will come, don’t like crowds, got no one left who remembers been barred from love too long; but I really don’t mind so much anymore you know…

Jul 17, 2010. © All rights reserved

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#9 yet again

my pitter-patter heartbeat ejaculates blood rush, to brain-cells starved for oxygen for a moment I drowned, her tear-welled eyes belie the pain exquisite moment of no return, mundane silhouettes, forgotten promise‌

Jul 17, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#10 Abandon

Well below our tenderness do you fathom how, all seeing eye, Earth and Sky entwine as one day and night emanating Lovelight?

Aug 1, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#11 The Abbey of Death

Stardust bespringles lofty hopes emanating upwards through spires and cones catching a piggyback lift towards the ultimate event belying otherwise drab foreboding walls and cloistered stain-glass windows of someone else's ghost; silent night admits silent sounds from silent souls sobbing in disbelief at the beauty of the sight oh, silent night...

Gravestones slated with staccato data inscriptions carrying no valid meaning as such: too late for contemplating identity crisis or say, ancestral connections?

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Gravediggers' union cards they are, strewn on lumpy lawns where flowers adorn uncaring departed as if their worth in death overshadows lamented lives lost to throwaway monotony of endless copulation in the name of Love...

Jul 31, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#12 Will they meet again?

Seeking high, seeking low follow the spirit of yonder crow: yet death clasps in cold cuddles unforgotten potential, searing pain of anonymous vacuum assails an’ befuddles his heart.

Whither has she flown, her journey leads someplace?

Might he track her beyond life itself?

Wisdom is worthy of her children?

Old ‘silver chord canoe’ in silence charges obedience as fee for ferry float athwart obscurity’s water; apart is an art vanquishing obstacles ‘n trials: no duality = singularity is the quotient until the shores of life-forces allow once again unity for those called by the Master of Life.

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Peace returned; battered passions no longer mourn to scorn knowing well love conquers hell and meet they shall once more on life forces shore‌

Aug 2, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#13 Almost Done

Never stops hurting those assaulting flashbacks, yesternights at the cloister: pubescent lust deluded by curiosity, prodded by naivetĂŠ.

My recall relentlessly slaughters all feelings of decency.

Never permit the orgasm inside; murder the feeling, draw dangerously near, cease!

Look at me now, am habitually working skimpily clothed, reshuffling repetitive intrusions.

Eyes like empty shot glass reflect errant frustration framed in green mascara: wistful defiance of my unbearable identity, who can make me come?

There was a time long gone when attraction played coy slag and teaser; 21

lips puckered in expectancy of something more than lipstick.

Maybe the old priest fellatio became incalculable impetus for a harlot’s frigid beginning?

Nov 6, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#14 Humble Hope

The day is done: sweat and toil paid in full evicting any tourist thoughts hitchhiking on stray desires; my God she completes me please let it grow our love, let it grow as the seeds we sow... my body pain is sweet agony of fallen nature yet hope dawns rays of Lovelight; we can eat now, Lord, your blessings may prepare our future progeny and let silent sleep beckon towards the womb of unfulfilled dreams, amen...

Aug 11, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#15 Spastic Death

Just left the nite-shift hospital emergency ward, had to sleep in my own warm bed; wore my old air-force long-coat, crystal shivers in subzero typical Canadian winter: shuffled the usual beaten path leading to a hot stove, when the red flash caught my eye.

Police ambulance dominated a small group of half frozen night-walkers!

So what? I'm bushed, man, need to sleep, too much blood and gore for one sitting... yet a creepy pull drew me thither: regret forthwith, everyone stood as if statued staring fascinated at stone cold sober Billy no longer eternally drunk pinned lethally to the wall outside his flat door.

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A parked car'd slipped on the incline icy road surface: Karmic mercy with a retributive twist suddenly crossing into Billy's misery of having to stand outside his very own house totally shit faced watching his wife balling an old friend; Cut him in two: up against the wall, buddy!

Nobody knew what to do...

"Let me die, please..." gurgled he.

From the waist down he was mush: no scope to rescue from old misery to new misery, alcohol to drugs?

"Look, I've called the mobile rescue team," I venture, "Any minute they'll be here."

"No, move the car and let me bleed to heaven, I just wanna go home; please?"

Billy's eyes persuaded me to be merciful, "OK, let's move the vehicle!"

The cops sprang into action, Billy slithered into oblivion, I intubated him as a benign gesture, the mobile rescue team ambulance arrived vomiting doctors, paramedics, and whatnot...

Later on at the emergency room Billy had died more than forty-five times only to be artificially revived 25

while the priest bopped back and forth like a vertical yo-yo in a crazy elliptic spin; poor Billy's spirit floated near the ceiling wondering when? Oh when, oh when, oh when...

After they gave up Billy at last got to rest; I went home at last, got to rest as well: no more spastic death.

Aug 12, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#16 The Enchanted Griffin Folks

Rumblings cascade through the forest so deep, Fairy wings stir; silent waters effervesce in fear, widowed mothers tremble, in horror weep; Why must they die? Why is death so very near?

Pristine glory, its meaning now but drear, empty vapid dreams of esoteric sleep akin to sardonic homilies that shear human courage, exposes dearth so deep.

Penultimate chance before final death to keep daemons at bay, cynicism to Satan dear shall not deter me: evil will evil reap: my Griffin I conjure; fear, my foe fear!

Defender of the realm, hear people, hear!

Your hearts let not in oppression’s turbulence steep: serene certitude display, think not of yesteryear; no longer need parents in horror weep.

The haunted house whence once wicked ghosts would creep and clarity obscure, deceivers truth would wear: false justice to cloak questions with answers cheap.

Why must they die? Why is death so very near?

From virtue’s quarry our Griffin kinfolks steer rawness of grief to memories of joy that seep into deepest chambers where a ransom tear glistens as the Griffin’s headband sapphire through the forest so deep..

Oct 23, 2010. © All rights reserved 27

#17 Who Will Ever See?

A sweet little girl from my house just next door would only wear panties sold from Fairy Frillies' store.

She'd make sure they were fancy, and pretty, and bright with cute little faces to fit snugly and tight.

Much money she spent, it hardly mattered at all as long as the panties were bought at the mall.

Well it came to me then like a curve-ball thrown to me, such wonderful panties: who'd ever get to see?

23, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#18 Warped Imagination

At the edge of time's blackest hole where light bends and quantum mechanics ends begins my story: kaleidoscopic photons bounce from the thermodynamic path charted through the event horizon at warp speed bypassing the elsewhere taking me back, back in time...

Whirling, twisting, spinning zapping through singularity beyond reason: destination unknown though I want to change so many things if only I could; maybe nobody should?

You know, a fresh article for the constitution, bring John Kennedy back or some such quirk.

But when I get there my mind blanks: fascination over what was overwhelms me, silence and awe humbles me into submission.

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"Get your ass outta bed!

What you think I run here, a time-machine hostel?"

My better half yells.

The ground-reality slap wakes me, synchronizes my synaptic aberration reminding me it's Monday.

My only time travel back is back to work at the same old grind...

Oct 29, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#19 Rejuvenation

Sight of fine full blossoms on a cherry-tree akin to young women's bosoms do quite excite me: as the tree's rising sap blood flows through my veins; then I quaff spring's pap, old life youth regains...

Sep 3, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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#20 The Harlot

Could it be she spoke ill of me Whilst travelling ‘bout the shire?

Would it be true she said to you I’m the target of her ire?

Her words did they scorch like Hell’s fire Sucking in hearers to bitter mire?

Threaten did she of consequence dire?

Her face was it taut and sore strained?

She must’ve looked evil, uncontained Such venom spewing into minds Of simple folks and local hinds.

I do suppose I’ll let it be, Like autumn leaves on a Maple Tree Or frothing scum of a wavy sea To naught it will come, this I know; Truth in due time won’t fail to show: Conjugal fellowship, true love Is not for sale, cannot be bought; Tis a most sacred treasure trove For which I live, die, and have fought.

Sep 18, 2010. © All rights reserved

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#21 Directions

Suppose a stork Flew on overhead Across a fork In the road of the dead; Where would it lead, The left or the right?

To lovepotion’s mead?

To a grave in the night?

October 18, 2010. Š All rights reserved

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