Fight Club

She was the scratch on the roof

The opening in an all white room

That spoke freedom

The free voice that you stared at while laying still

Passing the time because there was no way out

But through that roof

Boredom is the thought of you facing yourself

One on one

Mano y mano

Un delgado

Delicately delegating to yourself the very things

You think of yourself as imperfect

Perfectly knowing how insane the process is

Sanity in love?

Logic in lust with itself

The whole thing a throbbing lamp of blue lava

Settled when cold but as soon as warmth arrived

The meandering globs and botches of paint couldn't stand to mix well

So where does that leave us

Oh yes tongue lashing the ceiling

Cursing the floors

You know only you can stop the voices

But like any good cut

You can't help but reopen that wound

Until it becomes a part of you.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

88

When in doubt

I crunch numbers

When emotions are pulling veils over my eyes

Only digits seem to add up to clear the mind

I wonder does God do the same

When the World is searching for him in a particle

And the spiritualists are looking for her under rocks

I crunch numbers

I too like Einstein deep down know it will never add up

At least not in this lifetime with these boundaries

Chemical precursors limiting the speed of light transmission

Can only be appointed with a vivid imagination of fluid dynamics

And when this doesn't seem right

I crunch digits into pathways on trees older than civilizations

We are all looking for morsels of hope grains of truth

I think we all thread through the desert sand if only in youth

A sand box where the bully simply wanted to be loved

So you offered your toys willingly not willing the fight

In hope that the universe did all equal out to an infinite figure 8

Astounding yourself with such thoughts at the tender age of 8.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

Forest of Missed Deeds

Play with fire and let the soul burn

Circle the perimeter allow the coals churning

Scorching you into something new and beautiful

With a slight taste of the cinders' still flaring

Catching fire to your eyelashes allowing glowing sight

Blind yourself not by jumping ship

Blitzing through the wind towards the sea

Racing to your long hidden revelry of content

But burn and smolder until your choice is no longer

Escape

Freedom is the bold ability to stare off the cliff

While laughing watch this; throwing your time piece to a friend

So while your house is calm and serene

Eye mine closely because wisps of orange shall spread glory

Wake the children and the dead

Allow not the smoke to stifle your growing desire

Saying flame on towards triumph and the setting Sun

Chasing the dusk with the dust at your heels

A growing crowd lingering in a charred forest of missed deeds.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

Eyewitness

Such a peculiar look

Laid upon my brow to stare

Piercing through my thought

Without want or care

I marvel at your innocence

And how you can just be

While I gaze upon your wonders

And entertain your need

A curious fright one would endure

To see you watching this time

That time also before

Considering all you store

Though you change day to day

My love for you still true does stay

For you take me without regard

And know the course to stay

Yet still I will wonder with reprise

As I stare into those lovely

Eye witnessing moments that aren't mine

I love you too and want to be like you.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

Forever

I have seen light

That burns tears

Into the soul of man

I have imagined a globe

Illuminating dots

Connected with each other pulsing

I have caught the scent

Of an arid desert

With one wildflower in bloom

I have tasted honey

Suckled to a stem

Born of a need for more

I have touched fingerprints

Unlike my own

Yet marveled at the pattern

I have heard the voice of angels

Crying out to their maker

Let us sing forever.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

The Artist

The work of an artist is twofold

A round of Blackjack where the house always wins

Not that I am a gambling man

Or one who likes to see

If the jack 

Or the ace

Shall show face

The sculpture of the artist is love

A piece of themselves

Unselfishly given

To the carnivorous World

Famished

Ready and willing to eat

Anything of original

Intrinsic value

The play of the artist is whimsical

With a dash of passion

An ounce of hurt

A mixture of remorse

And a steady voice

To keep it all

Together

The words of the artist are hidden

In meanings that only seconds of life can decode

Sometimes the contents of the package say it all

Sometimes it's just the string

The heart of the artist is truth

Gushing forth past lies

Gushing in old age

Gushing in youth

Heavy as a lantern

Worn by the lamplighter

Through cobble stone streets

With a duty of giving light

So everyone can see

Their portion of the night.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

A Surgeons Scalpel

An artistic touch can lift a face

Rearranging parts repositioning space

As we all stand in line front and center

We wait for the surgeon's hand with a tremor 

Looking on the line

An array which extends through all

A wondrous thought

Could you

Should you

Fix them all

Sometimes beauty is in place permanently

At others it is the still such waiting to be

A scalpel can be a powerful tool

The edge of the mind carving to truth.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.

Kingdom by the Sea

Whatever happened to that palace by the sea

Where we gazed off into the distance you holding me

In a semicircular embrace

Time not moving

Face to face

Supposedly it is still there

Where you would sit upon your chair

And I in the corner

Admiring you or the competing glow

Of an endless sunset

That with the right touch

And outlook

With a speed of constant velocity

Would claim an entire kingdom

Yet there was only you and me

Perhaps two spirits we manifested 

With our spree of unlimited love

Devotion only to what challenge would lay ahead

And where on Earth we would rest our head.

Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.

Contact me for reprint/posting permission.