You are among the wicked
Left in desperate rain
Ferociously trying
To wash away the sins
Of the label
Given during my birth
The desperate rain is kind
At least it tries to be
Every droplet
Drips from your
Cemented state
Untainted and clear
You are stuck
In the harden retched filth
That plagues your being
It can not be swept away so easily
Since then, I have left
Leaving you to drown
As you wait
For the desperate rain
to pour
She laid beneath
dew and cloaked pine
her hands slight with curve
toes in agonizing arch
eyes barely reflecting
the soft green moss
that entangled auburn strains
the pitter patter in the distance
echoed a stillness in the wood
it surrounded her winter body
even though the estival air
was dank and heavy
as I stared
my eyes reflected back
a story of winter
laying with summer
in harmonious still lust
a statue captured
in this moment
is hidden in pinewood
I remember thinking
“How beautiful”
Among concrete timber
They hover
Through the hard scape
Haunting those who pass
Begging for societies rewards
They float without notice
Without eyes meeting
They are taboo
Not worthy of your court
Or a nurturing society
Sentence to loitering
The ghosts
The ghosts of LA
Beyond the ridge
Together we clamber down
The pitch is sharp
With field floral and dust
Sister in forefront
And I far behind
Limping to the tune
Of catching up
My Naked feet scarred
By fierce barbs
The palms bleed
beet red
Gripping the handle
Of a vessel of water
That didn’t escape
Once from its spout
We stop amongst
Sapling timber
As the gold
Lights the terrain
This jaunt is meant for two
It is made before the gold sleeps
A ritual of emotion
Within each of us
Its purpose is to pour
The putrid water
That plagues us
And our thoughts
We are inconsolable
Son and daughter
So we pour each day
Into the puddle
Droplets of memory
Splashes of abuse
Ripples of habit
Spray of deception
Since then
The puddle is no longer
But a vast body of liquid
A lake
Most have been swallowed
Except for a small parcel
Where we rest our feet
Upon the ridge
The flood has taken years
But we hold the damn
And nail it shut
The pressure is there
We can feel it
One of us will have to
break
To release the flow
One of us will have to…
break.........
A river carved
between nobles
One for sinful pleasures
the other a white voice of reason
amongst the multitude of rapids
they spill
sinful and holy colors
into the river
canceling the other
to a gray tinge
it is balanced
but one side could
seize the other
in noble duel
of swordsmanship of fate
flooding the land that dictates
giving into their waters
we are the estuary
that obtains these actions
thus the color of the river
feeds into and tints
the larger self, the ocean
Summer seeped in night
And I standing in shimmer
In forefront of the door
Watching a moth
Hover by the bulb
Chirps in the distance
Set the silence in tune
Staring like radio static
At the moth and light
I tune out the cries and abuse
Of the one who gave warmth
you where there… you know
in impaired stumble
on the edge of light
out of the dark
you grabbed…me
by my scruff
hurled the fragility
into the bed of your chariot
you screeched
“We are going to Cali”
the horse power rumbled
we drove
and I like radio static
never took my eyes
off the bulb or moth
Cast away thy woes
bring bounty to the table
We and I shall feast
Yes, we feast
Like kings of old
Fill thee salver
keep steins wet
and we shall feast
now come fill your court
with kindred spirit
and dance in linear toe
until thy fellowship
is askew and crapulous
laugh through thy belly
and out through thy nose
neck the nearest matron
thy night is early
and daily labor is through
now drink my chap
my friend, my kin
before the night is through
there is a piano
it sits amongst woodland shroud
your tread
are what press the keys
to play a melody
of a woodland experience
this hymn
is different for each
as it entertains
the one that it suits
that one is you
so play the piano
the piano
in the woods
it is about the time
when gold meets
the earth
the light emitted
romantically sings
the land to slumber
it is about the time
when thoughts drift
and eyes wander
they follow
painted brush strokes
made by pulling winds
it is about the time
you call
it is distant and faint
a sweet sound
carried to my ear
as it is meant to be
it is about the time
I turn to you in half light
As twilight fills your face
It is beautiful
soft and warm
in the waning sun
among the bustle of clacking heels
and conversations through frequencies
speaking to someone
you will never meet, nor care to
they sway in the midst
of cemented construction
determined to uphold unforeseen judgement
they are of rats, fussing for crumbs
nibbling on social order
dictating instincts of survival
they shuffle, bustle and hustle
to destinations near and far
however, in this carnage
there is a moment between
it is a moment
lasting, only a few
where an action
disrupts this daily migration
it can be as simple
as a bird floating into view
or as tragic as death
it is that moment between
the bustle and the action
where we find emptiness
a truly euphoric state
Within men
there lies a deep crevasse
blacker than black
it is hidden but not forgotten
you step in
among the black
a shrine of rot
once stiff and steady
the guardian here
can no longer mend
he is one man enclosed
in ragged rice paper walls
governing the atmosphere
that is sprinkled with false stars
the guardian though frail
keeps the light yet faint...alive
without one acknowledgment
of presence
he says:
“one wrapped in contract
shall not be cursed
the light awaits to be nurtured
come now
stay and rest
for this will mend
and fill this black crevasse”
clouds as curtains
cover the woody stage
it is gray and silent
then a sound softly lifts
as a frigid shroud prowls
they begin to pirouette
gracefully in quick allegro
filling the stage
as they cloak the silent forest
the tempo quickens
as each beautiful shimmer
in chaotic choreographic elegance
coat the stage in white
the tempo doubles
a barrage of white
dancing to the tune
the stage now full
the twinkle of the new
falling stars
ready their final bow
the tempo fades
clouds as curtains open
revealing a shining canvas
the moon is in place
and the silence now kept
song held in morning
echos across summers mist
splash a loon dives in
the dunes are tall
but, we can still hear the crash
and the smell of salt reminds us
of treasured frames
you asked if I remembered
“yes”
I do remember that one
the sand was like flour
it cradled our feet
as our palms smacked
the land
as we progressed
to our full stride
loops of gold
surrounded us
tickling the laughter out of us
it echoes beautifully
in slow romance
your gaze meets mine
that is when you turned
'click'
a pose framed
by my eye
a shutter captured
the moment of our escape
the peasant with nothing to offer
but, rock of bread
they vowed to each other
the eternal devotion
and with every union
a male shall support
the house
and female shall
tend the house
daily labor
filled with black
stained his skin
the remuneration
was barley sufficient
she offered her talents
of the morphing avifauna
feeling hopeless
they pursued
and flaunted her majesty
the worlds eyes did pay
with plenty
but greed stained
the her feathers
until yet another
wanted the relentless
curves and talents
of the female tengu
the count
made his presence known
he persuaded the wedded
that greed is now what binds
with a swoosh
her majesty was swept
locked behind stone
taken away from him
her love
A high moon in a glittering canvas
it dances among the ragged crests
following us to northern forest
where a boreal landscape
is soft with white veneer
reflecting back to the sky
from which it came
your eyes gaze in wonder
through the pane
as the blur of dark races pass
your feet on the dash
and your face lit by a full winters night
you smile
Violins will play a melody
For those who wear purple
You there in time lapse motion
Will fluidly show this
Violins will play a melody
Each limb will inherit motion
Graceful as it is
It will be slow and it will fade
Violins will play a melody
Fit for people in purple
As seen in monarchy
Underneath doors to heaven
Violins will play a melody
For you… the one in purple
Fast moving water
Yet we float forward forever
Please don’t float so fast
Peering through the pane
My eyes fixated on color
A brilliance
Lit by a golden glow
I place my hand on the pane
Cold and crisp
It is Sunday morning
And silent
The faint sound of the breeze
Keeps silence in tuned
I am now in trance
As I peer through
My breath slightly fogs
It is Sunday morning
And I am tuned with silence
“just a small dream”
“It was childish to think…”
I thought
The cold stole my breath
And froze each digit
“It was childish to think…”
My body slunk into white
As the thought raced through
“It was childish to think…”
“that”
“I”
“could”
“fly”
