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tajpe’ joj ‘oy’wI’Daq boS yabwImey legh choSmeyDaq nuqDaq Hon e’be’ pa’ Qoy ghoghmey tun retlh HeH yabmey ghIH nuqDaqvIpbe’ |
Torn between pains, the gathering of my mind, seeing shadows move, which aren’t there. Hear the voices whispering along the edge of minds coming out of nowhere. |
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Hurgh choS pum ‘el qo’ yab Hagh je’ yu’ vaj ngaS choS ‘e’ mach yabmey vorm ngep Doch ‘e’ tebQeh |
Dark the shadow falls entering the twisted realm of mind bleeding. Feeding on the questions which abide in corners of shadowed cobwebs that litter minds worried over things that still fill anger. |
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paHlaw’ chImQeH parHa’ puq ghu pIn’a’ jISuvchoHQo’ largh lo’laH naQ loDnI’pu’ SIch Sambe’ taybogh Dechyem pagh mojmey tlhIb yab chImyab ghom’a’ |
Growth of unmadness like a child from babe to adult, fighting to maintain sense of worth. Wanting the filling comradery seldom reaching the point which encompasses such blankness as becomes the insanity of insect minded masses |
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pIj QIch je ghoS ngeH bong ngeHmey Qoy yaghmey |
Frequent the sounds come here sending thrills through ears and groin |
| ghIj tehmey
pov Qong tlhe’ wov najma’ pong HIyab vembe’ ‘ach,’a nID ghorghbe’ jIH ghoS naDev jIH Dech hIQ neH Say’ neH Say’ jIH ghIj ngoj qawneH buS ghIj tuH loS |
Fright filled afternoon slumber tossing in colored dreams calling it’s only in my mind. Not waking even though trying. When finally I come back, I’m soaked needing a bath ridding me sweat and fear. Remembering just feelings of anxiety and fright. |
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qIj ram nobmey jIH tlhab le’ maH ghoSmey nargh ghol’eb jaj Deghqo’ naQmey ghaj moj tach DeSmey vIram |
Black night gives special freedom to us coming escaping oppression of day into eternities which are harbored in the arms of mother night. |
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ghormo’ hurghlI’ botlh noDwI’ ghoS ngeH bong negHmey nong ra’ ropSoQ jach woD chalqu’ logh Dajmey teb Qeh tay’ QIch bIng ‘IH tunSutmey jaj naQmey ghegh DIr Sep bIghHa’ Hur ngeHbej mIgh |
From crusted darkness at the center of worship come songs of ill passion. Utterances of blasphemy hurled to the sky, shape twisted spaces. Spend low sounds in shaken silks colored chaos, rough to skin bred in pits transidental evil. |
| yInvIS pIgh
ba’taHnIS HeH bejwI’ ra’be’ naQmey ropSoQ botlh nID SIch chargh ‘u’ Dep jey loghmaj botlhma’ tlhe’wI’ qup qI’ jech Hoch ‘u’ma’ QIt choH tul moj ‘ach mach ‘u’maj qupqI’ |
Sheltered in ruins looming on the edge watching the chaotic blasphemy at the core attempting to reach into any universe being repulsed by vary space at our core twisted into Elder sign masking our entire universe slowly changing a hope until even our small cosmos is an Elder sign. |
| pagh tlhuHmey
DechtaH partla’ Huj’eng teb Hoch qojmey getlh paghmeH ram ‘ach,’a loghDajmey je chIm loghmey ghajmey law’ tay’ ‘ang nIHwI’pa’ paghmey ghomrI’quprIp wIchIrgh larghtlhuH He’ yIn nobtun lojmItvam tIj chIrgh wIquvmoH vaj tlhIHqanglah chaw’ta’ tIlegh paghmey je tu’ wewmey largh yIn |
Blankness of soul surrounds like stifling fog filling every crevise with dull nothing even night in her eternities and hallow spaces has more to show than the blanknesses worship at her temple sniff deep the scent of life give softly at the doorway to the inner sanctum she will bless Then you’ll be allowed to see into nothings and find glowing breathing life |
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Dat je paqpu’ vay’ wovmey parHa’
jIH paqmey bang chaH Depmey ‘et yIn Hovvam pov jevam vaj Hu’ ghorgh SIS je peD pum joq ghorgh getlhpagh langbe’ eg je ghorgh chaH pa’vaj
najma’ qo’ Hop Suq poH je logh yeb je neH |
Every shape and size any color will do.
I love books they are friends for life. On sunny afternoons and on those days when rain and snow fall or when the fog is thick and too when I just want to sit they’re their.
Dreaming of worlds far across time and space of mind and just. |
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ghar DeS jatlh bech SuSvIS ramvIS che’ pagh leghmeymIp nargh SIHvaSmey pagh chImHoch toy’ |
Broken limbs sing with wind while night rules. No colors escape twisted greys ended smiles. |
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bav qojmeyvam bep jachmey ‘u’ nIHHoch Qam Huj jachcha’ qImbe’ pongmey Hurgh Qobpu’ ghoqwI’Dabo’ wovjech jach HurghQobpa’ net tunjatlh He’largh DI qob ‘ur mIgh veQ je Dochmey ‘ach,’a ‘arghral rop yabram nach wI’ vaj |
From this pit agony screams to include all that it can. Shaken still standing yelling at those not paying attention calling to darknesses masquerading as light. Barking into shadows that whisper things reeking of blasphemy obscenity and a few things even worse mentally vomiting in my ears. |
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nejlI’ qetlh nav
not ‘etnoblI’ qetlh nav buD pa’ loSlI’ pongmey boHlI’ yIn Hommey tlhuH ‘ut ghItlhwI’ tu’meytaH ghItlh nav tlhutlh tlhuH chen tlhuH laghmey vamvo’ banvIS ej buD ghItlhwI’ taySuD |
Look at a blank page
Never forgiving The blank page Lays there waiting Calling impatiently For the bits of soul The addicted writer Finds he must put upon each page Torn bleeding From the artists spirit Out of the depths With love and apathy as the writer must |
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largh tlhutlh pugh lISwI’ puS HaSta qo’mey ghomey mInmeywI’ ‘engmey tlhuH tlhIch jatlhwI’ tlhuHwI’ wIchmey je Qoch quv je QoS leng SuqnI’ nup jup ghoS chaH peHghep |
To the smell of coffee adjust my sight visions of other worlds circles my eyes in wreathes of spirit smoke speaking into my soul legends and creatures holiness and sorrow trips across long dead futures the friends that come for each generation |
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nej chIm pagh
qama’ tlhuH Hoch tlhegh wIj pagh nav jIH legh je ‘ut teb Hot je cha’ wIch je wIch mu’ mIS ‘Iwvo’ nach je qabSIS ‘IQ je Quchvo’ Sormey je SuS jatlhwI’ jIH je mIqta’ ‘ach Hov je boghbe’ nem wIchmey |
Look at the emptiness
A piece of my soul goes into every line. A blank page I see and need to fill with emotion and image myth and legend. Each word mixed with the blood of brow and the tears of sorrow and happiness. Trees and wind speak to me machines also Even stars and unborn shapes — future legends. |
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tach Hop chap bIng baS Qu’ ba’mey be’ Dech tep paqmey tep pong ghItlh DuH De’
qanbe’ ba’mey HemQan paqmey
Sovbe’ nuqjIH tu’ nej ghItlhmey ngo’ Hoch paq largh ten lam je lutlhnov |
At the store far in back under corrugated tin an old woman sits surrounded by boxes of books on each box scribbled in crayon a possible subject.
This matriarch sits deep in the protection of the page.
Not knowing what I might find looking through boxes grimed by age every book with a scent elder dust and primal slime. |
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jIH je’ paqlI’ tach loSjaj He’ nov je SIS jIH Dev bIQ ngoH Hum ghoD lam boS ben jIH Sov jIH bang chIch Hot Hoch paq lanmey nuq Daq jIHlI’ vum pa’ Qorgh |
I bought your book at a yard sale on Saturday. It smelled of dog and damp but still I held it close. Water stains dark spots of mold collected dust of decades I know I’m in love. Holding it close Touching every page for places where others have worn with their care. |
