Above

Beautiful complexion
In need of inspection
Come here now

We don’t believe in forever
But one night is even better
So what is love?
Come here and lets share gifts of the above

Give me a shot,
One night,
And Il be your chaser

But let this night
Be a blur
As long as when you awake
You can face a scarred mirror

murmur

The poets on strike
Emphasis on the lack of capitalization of the poet
For to possess a title you must be the subject of matter
But yet in what circles
Do you hear The Poet?
Rather you hear people whisper of a poet
Maybe when time is gone and stories become myths, myths become legends
Can they whisper of a poet
But in the present future
There will be no title accepted but the one of Austin;
Consequently,
The Poet.

it is the climb

The essence of smoke is to fade
The essence of life as a mountain is to climb
Can you climb and fade at the same time?
Or by fading do you slide rather than climb?

To elevate to tall peeks and be touched with spirit
Or to fade downwards,
Is sliding part of the climb?
Climbing means we will inevitably fall, question whether you will be caught worthy of being saved?
To fade while trying to climb, you end up sliding to earth’s core
Where there is a devil,
And I’ve been to hell and back and made it back fine
As I refuse to fade and surrender to the pain of the climb

Migrate

A bird, A sea, A destiny
A scowl, A flare, hereditary
A drink, Salt, Salt of sea
Anger denounced at an early stage

Why should the bird not fly away,
Migrate to a happier place,
Where the weathers warm
Calypso is a harsh cold

Blackbird!
Or was it BlackBeard?
Sailing a ship, of immortality
Yet mortal as self

Just a temporary gig
Give the bird a swig,
And tell him to be on his way
Never re-open the deck,
For lust patiently waits

In essence the bird flees,
But from what,
He is unwanted in originality’s birthplace
Give the bird a lighter, the girl some mace
Send the bird on its way,
For his call is un-returned
For his wings float
But in mind and bodies wants nothing is met

So do not return the once sought call
Do not send, the once searched message
Do not text the question…
The bird chose to migrate and left the twenty first century behind
There is an answer