Into your arms,
downward, I fell
reversing death.
and discovered clarity,
despite your attempts
to shroud it from me.
Eventually though,
I will fall out,
and rise upward.
Closing all windows,
as I depart,
that lead to your dream.
Blot (slightly off center)
A Scarlet Thread
I left with no words that would venture
all well tangled around my tongue,
and lodged solid in my throat.
Yet, I finally spit them out
with a nasty flair
to cut you deeply,
as was my intention.
However, it did not feel
like I thought it would,
there was no weight lifted.
I only self righteously
stained my teeth
and viled my mouth,
with careful planning.
After Glowing
In rented rooms
they began late,
a lovers tryst
across the county line.
His observation
of alternating glances,
revealed intention
to the clerk.
They defined love
in fluid movements,
placing their guilt
on a bedside table.
Cakes and Ale
If you look for me
I will be gone
my legs restless
needing to stretch
in new directions
where I will live a soft,
simpler existence.
I have moved
deeper in the wood
in a cottage
freshly whitewashed
with yard tidy
where I will bake pies,
and tend a garden.
The sun will find me
in quiet solitude
walking the forest
with grandchildren
hand in hand
where I will teach them
to listen for poetry.
Riddle
Midnight icy demons howl
unleashed, a predator enslaved to prowl,
tearing through the black, black sky
blowing fiercely within the eye.
Across the field, the drifts I glimpse
as the white oak shudder in attempt,
the window pane begins to breathe
the screen transformed as if a sieve.
My hand moves up to clasp my throat
filled bittersweet as the storm provokes,
a pine tree snaps, a split jackknife
in rearranged environment so like my life.
Imagination rages in the prism of experience
heralded above,the night spews indifference,
I am as of stone, weighed to the spot
struggling to remember what I have forgot.
Entangled within is the message unknown
puzzling my soul, and then it is gone,
forever to be buried in ice laden snow,
and once begins thaw..I might never know.
Irrelevant
The pain continues,
an ebb and flow
it is what it is,
offering no escapes.
It arrives suddenly,
Then quickly departs.
So I remember,
that to live is to feel
and sometimes,
it feels like hell.
Pardon me while I shoot my TV
The box drones
with the daily news,
and progresses
through the
commercialism
of commercials,
and now that
I think of it, I must
have one of those
nifty slicer-dicer’s,
though I can’t eat
because I might
gain some weight,
and I am feeling
tired, so I must get
some special vitamins
at Walmart, where
their rolling back prices,
and I’ll need some bling,
cha ching.
Keeping up with the Jones’
is the new american goal
a sure sign of sucess
the accumulation of things,
and oil is an idol
when innocents die
for naught in Iraq
yet, all I need is
another designer bag
to hold all my stuff,
so hear ye, hear ye
our brains are
sponges, sucking
propaganda,
and capitalism
is a dream
you hear everyday,
but we still tune in
same bat time,
same bat channel,
slaves to the machine.
Anathema
After months of roaming
you coolly breezed in,
refreshing the stale air
a shiny, smiling face
braving the unknown
with your new beginning,
and spirit full of hope
unaware of the subtle force
possessed by clannish folk
whose opinions formed
before they were born
with past generations,
and are rarely questioned.
But, oh how their sneers
stung.. when you thought
you really didn’t care
as they held on tightly,
clutching their malice
holding it to the light
so all could examine,
those syrupy tongued,
preening jackals
feeding on the remains
of your vulnerable soul,
and I turned a blind eye..
to my endless remorse.
Balladry Backwash
Words are inside me
tapping on my teeth
scratching my throat,
filling my appendages
throbbing them numb,
settling into my pores
festering, mocking,
encouraging me
to open my mouth,
and let them out
to join a range of
emotions that are
placed neatly on shelves,
labeled,
and used sparingly.
Dogged they pursue me
prey on my weakness,
stroke my ego,
persuading until
I succumb, and must quieten
the incessant chatter
letting them float to my pages,
altered to changeling’s
where they elude me,
to be interpreted by strangers.
Atlanta
In this life I drift
of appalling intention,
down neglected road
It is your face I missed.
Your soul, I did not touch
my heart never softened
in the hard places..there still
with regret my conspirator.
Your fears, I never faced
no comfort I offered,
but forever your tears
will stain my soul.
In your life, I held no share
our bond only moments,
a tenuous thread of light
put out in anguish.
Your spiritual advance, granted
as I summon the ghosts
at the scene of carnage,
that shed innocent blood.
Yet, within myself
a fatalistic lack of surprise
child of my fire entered a void,
while none took pause.
Submerged in delirium, I call
listening to silence
thick and final,
As you are not compelled to answer.
False serenity, a protracted vigil
re-etching my grief,
to the writhing of my heart
in consideration of no larger agony.
As for you, Nothing
will slake my desire
as you remain..nameless still,
A tragic waste of magic.
As I remain, a fugitive
most treacherous,
in the crime of my heart.
