Ferryman, ferryman don't come for me,

the children sing freely

in the bright sunlight.

When gathered together on a dark

stormy night...

they pull covers over heads

to stay out of sight.



He takes the coins

from the eyes of the dead.

His payment for the travels

he plans ahead.

When payment is made

he guides his guests

to make their final hopeless quest.

He beckons with a gruesome smile

and they board his craft with little guile.

The river is swift...the river is long...

He ferries them right along until he

crosses  the river when he blows his horn.

He looks around and all are gone.



It is said on dark lonely nights,

the Ferryman is out to fright.

Who dares to board his ferry boat

are the dead who have lost all hope.

When innocent children hear his horn

they run like hell to beat his harm.

The road was a ghostly ribbon:

a strange violet hue.

The sycamore trees ******* thrashing

as a frenzied wind blew.

A dark cloaked horseman

appeared on the horizon’s edge.

He whipped his horse forward;

this horse almost flew.

The pounding hooves echoed

down the cobbled road.

The  madman charged forward

with his deadly load.

They never caught the horseman

who murdered her father that night.

He shot his pistol once then the old man died.

No're was he ever seen again

after the red cobbles dried.

They never found his stallion

with nostrils flaming fire'

who flew like a dragon

until the prey expired.

The girl wept and moaned

at her window. Always watching for him.

Watching the winding road ;she could redeem his sin.

A kiss my darling sweetheart, kiss and let me fly.

His shadow was imprinted on  clean cobbles.

His scarf around her neck but nothing made things right.

The devil surely wanted him

and death breathed down his trek.

They searched  swearing they'd catch the wretch yet found

no trace of him. The girl she smiled sadly.

For now he rode the wind.

Dust on the mirror distorts my face

Yellow sun slithers across the floor

Long since have I been to this place

I will come here no more

Sheets cover the furniture

Dried brown roses resist gravity

A petal here and there

The facet in the sink is dripping

No concern have I anymore

You cleaned the kitchen spotless

Thinking I might come by

That was snowy months ago

Now rain beats on the panes

I always wanted shutters

I thought you felt the same

Our love making was stale at the start

It finished with lots of blame

We seemed so compatible

Please don't ask me why

I spy my old umbrella

Leaning against a chair

I pick it up and turn around

Shrugging at this mundane affair

I put the key in the mailbox

A weight lifts off my brain

In another month, my dear

I won't remember your name

The front page news hit home!

Thirteen dead in a gambling pen...

A dead bell hounds those

rain soaked back streets

bullits smash soot blind windows

and the smell of blood makes you sick...

White light of the camera eye

spinning red  globes

An attendant shacks his head"How do you rationalize this mess"

"Just bag up the rest"

A child whimpers.

"Hush, Little flower,

it is just death's long shadow

way down in Chinatown."

The Mulberry butcher was amazed

a packet of kidneys arrived and glazed.

Where did this wonderful treat come from?

It said on the label, Choice, US, One,

The Chief of Police was having a fit;

twenty young women  

reported missing and found ripped.

Ripped through the throat and the back

as well

somebody was destined to go to hell.

The coroner cried, My God, look how they died!

He sliced their neck, took out their eyes and

then, My God the kidneys too!

This man surely belongs in a zoo.

The Chief, he knew, at once,

the Rippers return had given him lunch.

The human imperative tells you this if

nobody tried to live this way the useful world would be in vain.

A man, like me, sitting on this sagging bed, staring at the green

greased stained walls disgusted with the human imperative is unique.

I detest the ***** smell in the dingy brown halls and

the communal bathroom with bugs on the wall.

I know why you had me taken away not jailed this time.

I didn't hit you just spilled whiskey on your imperative new

furniture and dress. Now, whiskey is spilled on this brown

stained carpet and I have no more money. You saw to that!

I'm too sick to panhandle. Nothing to pawn. And the human

imperative makes me sicker. It doesn't consider really gut

hunger for love, ***, food, sleep, oblivion from the mind's

torments of failure. I didn't expect much from this life.

My brilliance kept me above the rest. I am brilliant enough to

know life can end here till they throw you in the alley to die.

There is no where to go. You say recovery? I say, Bull!

No one recovers from a plan like this. Not when you were

King of the road. Not when you wouldn't concede to others

needs because they were banal and stupid and nobody

accepted you drunk. I didn't hit you this time. I know when

I hit you. Some don't. I know I made a mess and was bad.

**** it, once in awhile one of us gets away. They do, imperative

or not...

I reach across the table to touch your hand.

Fine hands, long slender fingers, pale pink and soft...

so soft...

I long to feel your hand silently caress my cheek.

I hunger for the softness that hides a secret sexuality.

You are secret.

You keep yourself refined to a pitch.

I want to know that pitch; can your hands take me there?

I want to know every part of you, I know there is more

hidden softness.

Softness between the folds of your plump round *******.

Softness of the skin between your legs and buttocks.

I look into your soft brown eyes and see your hunger.

Are you just too soft for me to go deeper?

The agony I feel...

The frustration of intense longing.

Let me in, please. The velvet softness of your hands

makes me insane for you.

I will go mad for the softness,

You take your hands back and fold them.

You are wise to your treasure and making me wait

increases the excitement.

The pleasure I will someday feel inside you.

The sun is like a blood stained egg yolk

The world gone mad

deranged with grief

Sheltered by the solid oak

I cry my heart into my throat

I cannot breath

A wind came with thunder

in the trees

The dust is choking me

I begin to bleed

My hands stung by nettles

My feet caught in  thistles

Nature gone mad before my eyes

Is this the way we intend to die?

KMCOLBY@20111



Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/the-sun-is-like-a-blood-stained-egg/#ixzz1DroEzGUE

The signs ignored

in apathy and guilt

Death receives a special invitation to

the dance of mindless violence

Sound is red with blood

a single sigh translates

pain of dying hope

Hearts pound like ocean waves

in a storm

The body frail

in the face of gun, knife or bomb

Only the soul survives

the ravages of chaos and death

While, time the thief

steals memory

Minds pale in grief

in an unshaven darkness

of impending horror...

Someone left me a *** of marigolds

on my white porch floor

Afraid to pick them up

I left them near the door

The paper boy knocked them over

dirt spilled out on the wood

The mailman stepped in the dirt

and smeared it as he should

I righted the *** and saw it was dry

then left it in the afternoon sun

and the vermilion sky

Days went by and the preacher called

He asked about the plant

I shrugged my shoulders and took

his pamphlets fast

No one ever told me where those

marigolds came from

I assumed it was the devil

as he was the only one

Who knew I killed my husband

and I would go to jail

A trial would condemn me

they would hang me

by a nail

If you receive such a ***

know your time has come

Leave the marigolds where

they are to die

Giving you time to just go on.....

In a heady perfumed night…

Spanish guitars strung out a snare,

Soldiers crowed the border town

to see the Gypsy fair

Gypsy wagons, colorful and garish

circled the camp fires near the barracks.

Gypsies wandered freely their mongrel dogs did howl.

Gypsy’s drinking ***, stealing and making dog stew.

Some claimed they put in magic herbs to

boil a man’s skin raw.

Others said the opposite, it came out as a draw.

The violet dusky sky seemed to fall into the sea.

Bonfires burned and ravished the evening gaiety.

Sweat was running just waiting to see her.

She’d leave them broke and *** soaked;

but they cared not in their desire.

Just before the clock struck ten a wagon

door swung free.

A garter ed stocking leg emerged and men forgot

to ***.

The guitars began and then the drums until

the lady was among the wild eyed bunch.

Her colorful skirts, taffeta swished. bracelets graced

her slender arms, luscious breast heaved into sight;

men thought they would go blind.

And from her ears hung gold earrings dangling seven sparkling

moons. Her black eyes glistened as she made her snake like moves.

Her feet were bare and a golden scarf wound round her raven hair.

Slowly, She began her dance. to the ,melody of stars. The faster her body moved

her hips swung loose gyrating like in grooves.

Out of the shadows a dark figure appeared. No one noticed; her body was their

cheer. No one saw him pull out a knife and walk towards the girl.

Her torso grew more snake like with every ***** move.

His suit was black with silver studs.His boots were to the knee. A cigar hung out the side

of his mouth.  His meanness was plain to see. At last the girl saw him. She whirled away towards

her wagon; a ****** threw himself before the stranger. To late, He kicked the little man and

then began his wager. His voice was like a fog horn, smoked poured from out his nose.

Rosanna .grabbed the wagon door. He reached and pulled her close. A golden object dropped

in the dirt, no one picked it up. He twisted the girl till her breast were glued to his chest.

“next time you rob me. you gypsy *****, be sure what you take.” he tore the other earring off

and flesh came along as well. He shoved her to the ground and kicked her in the belly.

“Try to pass off a dead brat now, to hell with you and many.” He threw the other earring down on

her blood soaked blouse. He strode passed the dazed men and leaped upon his horse.

The girl  lay very still. No one moved till he was gone. Then they rushed to Rosanna

and saw her final blush. When he had been holding her he stuck his knife in her breast. She was dead

in the red dirt  and *** soaked breaths.

A legend grew from this incident, Rosanna of the seven moons. Folks said she was with child. They said

she was a ruse. After the terror filled moment her body disappeared. All that was left was a golden earring

that turned out to be fools gold. The strangest thing that had happened ,all the men had been robbed, Their

love for Rosanna blotted out the loss. No one cared about the money. All they wanted was to see Rosanna

dance before their lust was lost.

Many years later, a stranger passing through, said he’d found a golden earring with seven large moons.



Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/rosanna-and-the-seven-moons/#ixzz0tUwFn8hz

Go bravely into this dark night,

death has lost its sting with words

of love on the wing.

Stay stoic before the dark unknown;

better things in heaven than ever known.

Regret nothing in life it soon  passes away;

there were no guarantees only mercy and

moments of Ecstasy.

Take flight before the end, broken wings into

the glow of sun.

Your labor is over, a job well done.

Human life may take its last breath

but you my friend will go on and on...

for in the end love has won.

It is 1943 and the world has ended as we once knew it.

I drive you to the air strip in the rain.

Purple dusky shadows slide across the strip.

I am wearing strong leather shoes with ties.

I am hoping they hold me stable.

We get out and walk towards the waiting plane.

I look back at our sturdy little Studebaker.

It pales next to the plane.

A waft of chanel rises from my neck.

Do you smell it?

We climb the ramp, you holding your luggage.

We look at each other. What do we say now?

"There will always be Portland?"

Who ever heard of the small West Coast town?

You are covered in uniform. I desperately try

to get my green leather gloves off.

I look at the small emerald ring.

At least I have something.

I want to touch your face but you scare me.

Your air force uniform and hat are so intimidating.

I hear the engines; the propellers start to turn.

A gust of air hits me and my hair is tangled.

Are you going to kiss me? Or, do I kiss you?

Stupid. Why don't we speak?

War is unreal. But, I'm going to work in a shipyard.

We already have black outs. Fear has a distinctive odor.

At least I'm not pregnant. So many women are.

They are counting on America. America is young

and full of grit and  bravery and heroism.

You touch me. You are going. You kiss my cheek.

I recoil like I was slapped. Your face turns ashen.

You disappears inside the plane. I hurry done the ramp.

I hurry to our car: your car. I sit in the old brown seat.

and wait. The plane takes off. Up into a misty darkness.

I expect it to explode. I turn the ring around and around

on my finger till it hurts. I finally feel something. Pain.

I start the car and head towards the highway.

Traveling down the road I begin to relax and suddenly

I feel relief. It is over and I will go back to life again.

And you are flying into death....

Love was betrayed in winter's stillness;

it withered under silent snow.

I stare out windows made of ice and

see the yard's gate half closed.

My frozen garden has lost its bloom;

a brown stained rose on the window sill

a reminder still.

While embers smolder in the hearth

a grey sky fosters surrender.

My banal deed is a sheet of ice,

touching it stings your fingers.

A bitter taste is in my mouth for

lies can never hold a love for long.

The tea kettle still hisses, steam curls

into the room of barren table, two empty chairs.

Excruciating is the heaviness in my chest.

Betrayal is the cowards way;

love is only for the brave,

You big bloated orange moon
Hanging there in this heavy air
You have stolen summer
Eaten it right up and laughed

You have opened the night for lovers
You have burped out a sigh
A wiff of smoke; camp fires burn low
Eager for what lies ahead...I dread

After the regal colors of Autumn
Snow will chill my bones
So, gloat now you blighted orb
I will laugh a pumpkin laugh alas...

Out of summer linen

the pale scent of roses

rises

like your red hair

rising from the azure sea

Your skin the color of linen

waiting on the old bed

waiting for the afternoon

the siesta

the swoon

While the scent of roses

rises

from your linen flesh

Pink succulent

slightly warm

A cool breeze touches

the gauze curtains

Licks the salt on

your skin

Snatches your scent

carrying it on a wanton wind

back out to sea

Visions lost in cracking air
dirt and crumbling sidewalk

I drag my feet homeward
one more time

I dream the dream of dying
I wake gasping

I am locked in
this chambered hell of body

I see fire under rocks
I smell smoke in the bathroom

The night breeds evil smells
they float into my nostrils

Hope is lost, it flew away
I woke up laughing with the dead

Give me a safety pin
I have to pin myself together

My body has parted
was it a distorted mirror?

I touch my eyeball
and it sinks

I spit out teeth
with blood

My fingernails
have fallen off

Tired, I am so tired
i wander crooked streets

Shadows on the grey walls
my only companions

I am daughter of radon
I laugh as my hair falls out

I am so hungry
hungry for life

This steel landscape
of bed pans and commodes

The chill enters my toes
I wake up screaming...

In the midst of regal red
Orange flaming like a ****
It sneaks out
Euphonious as rain on a pond
Mellow sunlight,  warm days
Cool not chilly nights
Roses bloom anew
Nature takes a breath and sighs
The second Spring holds back;
the tears of time

Shameless moon
blind white
motionless climbs
above a sleeve-worn stone

Limb by naked limb
night -entangled trees
release queer shadows
on bare bone
distorting memory
and the tainted foliage



KMC @ 2011

Tree branches glisten like diamond chains.

Frozen lips want to sing old refrains.

Home, and hearth, Thanksgiving too...

friends, and relatives, the house is a zoo.

Frozen outdoors as the fresh turkey arrives.

Mother in apron is sure to preside.

Pumpkin pie, spiced cider, cranberries glisten,

father tells his jokes and nobody listens.

Sister arrives with rose hips and blooms;

a dazzling display in the living room.

We all gather together to feast at the table.

Say a quick prayer and eat as much as we're able.

You smell of sea salt

and the sea an evil green

your lips are cold

i look out the window

rain blinds me

fog rises from the brine

of ghosts

dead sailors

lost souls

lies

i do not dare look

at you

seaweed wraps around

your neck

snakes slither

out your mouth

a sailor of intrigue

deception

i pull the woolen

tight to my stone

body dead womb

freezing

the bed is rising

i am floating

towards

death

death of love

the worst death

wear your casket

sailor suit

wear it back into the

fog and sea

i won't hear

from you

you will be dead

alive somewhere

with someone

not me

i will strangle

the pain

and let my womb

bleed

i will bathe it in

sea water

and spit out the

lies

into night

and fog and sea

It was the summer of
a shower of stars.
Vermillion plums,
voluptuous fruit
hanging low on branches.
Fire-red geraniums;
bouganvillea cascading down.
The earth was humid,
heat waves rose up like
a boiling sea.
Full moon's bright stare
ignites strange shapes
   in our garden.
Shadows that move like
   mating snakes.
A burst of stars
fall to earth;
little fishes invade the beach
then vanish into
a silver sea.

KMC@2011

The road is long my friend, my friend

Longer still until the end

It makes us ***** and sadness filled

Each time we try to climb that hill

We stumble in ruts that stab our souls

We look for light but darkness fills

All the places our hearts desire

Angry we feel full of fire

If only a kind hand would extend

And help us climb towards the end....

This prose poem is from my collection "Poems from the Island"

Snow flurries rushed between us on the ice.
Two  black shapes without the world.
"Keep seperate!" he yelled.
The wind blew his words asunder...
Instantly, I remembered the sea heather
I'd left to dry by the fire pit.

Idle thoughts like sludge move slowly
in a frozen mind.
And the right words freeze on your tongue.

If the ice cracked, we'd hear it.
That horrible sound when Buddy was ****** down.
I wished I married a fireman.
A fireman would have saved my brother.

My old Dad was crackers living on this island
so far North. Expanding his poetry by writing
sonnets to Shakespeare and Ovid.   Taunting me
into crossing an ice plated pond to test fate.

The time was ****-eyed, too late in the season.
My father was scared. He'd been scared for a long time.
I heard the CRACK! it ripped open my head.
Suddenly, ****** back to our unborn selves. STRANDED...

No time to say, good-bye.
The black curtain on the last call falls sharply.
Those with nothing to live for invent things
to die for--so much for invention...

Out of the dark shadows
a night bird shrieks

The howl of the lost
and forgotten
   chatters the green monkey

The man with a red guitar
dances in the Mexican heat

Discordant broken strings
of music
   fill the desolute night

The shreik of the green monkey
murders the soul...

Hurry gravedigger

The ground is frozen solid, sir

And this sack is heavy, you cur!

I need a *****, a drill would do!

Dig, you slug or I’ll send you through and through...

The snow was deep, the graveyard barren

not a wreath on a stone. The dead were alone.

You should have brought her in a box, sir.

I laughed like a lunatic.

The ***** deserves no better than a sack

her cocktail dress a mess, alas.

Suddenly, her head rolled out.

My God, I said, Her lips are red.

My big concern was her corpse would

sprout in Spring…

Perhaps sir, beg your pardon,

it may be sooner than you think.

I blinked and blinked…

her cheeks looked rosy pink.

What did you give her sir?

Slow acting poison in green liqueur

Hum…she seems to be moving.

What a wicked smile.

A twisted thorn branch hit my side.

A red drop of blood hit the snow.

I tossed the branch aside.

This woman was destroying

my writer’s pride with ***.

She climbed out of the sack.

I took off my coat and wrapped

her tight. Divorce would have taken

all my money away.

Well darling, she said, attempted

****** is now on the list to rid me

of your writer’s fits.

I began to feel ghastly faint. My

stomach turned I vomited in pain.

Grave digger, she cooed,Keep digging.

A shallow grave will do. After the news,

the prodigal writer son will be shut away

in the family Museum.

The bewildered grave digger nodded

then watched his master fall to the ground

seemingly dead.

I don’t understand, the gravedigger said,

he claimed he killed you with slow acting cyanide.

Yes, in my favorite green liquor.

His rabid fondness for liquor obscured the switch.

He drank my drink.

Is this ******, madame?

How so, dear boy? he simply killed himself after his novel

fizzled. I simply took him quickly outside, buried

him shallowly and only for a while so the smell

would not offend the party inside.

la belle dam sans Merci

What did you say, old man?

The angel of death and all her wiles

leads men to death with her beautiful smile.

I should report these goings on…

I think your thinking days are done.

She picked up the *** and shoved it hard

into the old mans mouth. Blood dripped from his ears

and eyes. Then carefully cut his vocal chords.

The old man fell to the ground. He tried to speak

but not a sound. She kicked him down the hill with

her spiked heeled pumps. Picked up the coat

and wandered through the headstone maze.

She stopped. A headstone caught her eye.

A silver wreath hung ore the name, diamonds like

icycles  dripped their bracelets from the branches.

She was in disbelief. She pushed aside the wreath

to see the name. She stood up shuddering.

It read: For my Belle, I made you up now I

take you down. One hit by a club of steel.

She didn’t feel the blow. A trickle of blood at

the corner of her lush red mouth. The grave

was ready with head stone too. I tossed her in

and locked the lid  then dropped it all into the

pit. Tomorrow the grave diggers would do the rest.

I was mild proud of creating a character so

clever, No more. I was free. Free of my own creation.

Free of having to prove myself as a writer.

They will find the stone and believe I died a drunkard's

death, a second rate writer with an empty

bank account. What a New Year joy. The money in

Tahiti and so will I…writers can change their name.

What’s in a name anyway?

i hear the voice in whispers...

whispers...whispers...

under the willow tree

the voice says nasty things

***** words

to keep me listening

i hear it by the river

over rock and into splash

slash your wrists, sister

they'll never take you back

i run to my old playhouse

under the old oak floor

the whispers turn to hisses

i can bare it no more

i take the razor and cut so deep

the blood is black and sprays

now maybe at last

the whispers will go away

The light of the world

flickers faintly and fades.

In autumn's grey shadows

hushed voices make hymns...

    A cloak of sadness

cloisters the old refrains,

and each of us wonders...

will life ever...be the same?

I started to cry

beneath our old willow

tree

Those tender thoughts

of you and me

So many years

have come and gone

The love we shared

burnished by sun

Jumping off the old

wood pier

Wet kisses before

we got to shore

You gave me a ring

it made my finger black

I carry that ring still

in a sack

They told me you'd

died

in some crazy war

No matter the memories

I still want to store

I stand alone under

the old willow tree

I remember your love

and it sets me free...

Love conquers all

under this tree

I am thunder hear me roar;

paramour of Wotan

now the mountains rumble

when I anger and make war.

Beware the lair, my hair is fire

and I scorch from far.

I hurt your lies

and burn your truth.

I race the wind.

I always win.

Do not mock ...they’ll

find your body

on the rocks…

torn and ******  

black holes for eyes

bore out with nails.

You never saw

the truth so what!

You dispise

the one who tried to

show the way.

Go to hell !Oh boorish ****...

I’m here to stay…Vaincre Le ****

is surely meant for me...

just set me  free…If you should say,

Oh poisson,she smells... it would be fitting

for Wotan’s *****…

You  are a real piece of work!

What beauty a summer sun
does bring
It serves us;
our eternal center
Words ignite its radiance
What is true of the sun
is true of the soul
An invisible element
made visible in life
We see what we want to see
If rarified beauty is
our vision
perpetual summer will glow
through us; lest like Icarus
as a golden winged bird
rising higher and higher
to escape
closer and closer to the sun
melting wings
falling into the sea
and death...

Darl Dudley was a pud with a swelling in his nipper.
Shaving, he forgot to zip his zipper.
The morning was great, he was cheerful and able.
He decided to set the breakfast table.
Seeing the adelaide boots he became unstable.
Yanking at his crotch, before he was aware,
Yiks, he had caught a lot of hair.
Then he broke the zipper off and ashamed, began to swear.
His love entered the breakfast room
saw his bent over form and thought it was a dare.
Darl stood up and held his crotch, his pants slipped down
a notch; red faced he howled a prayer.
"My darlin," she exclaimed. "You seem to be in pain.
Let me help you get your trousers off."
Darl let out a heart felt sigh. Just wanted to cry.
His dinger, hot and swollen with a badly bruised side.
She bent down for a moment to see about his fly and
and ended up with a sharp poke in her eye.

Dusk

Winter fog slips

Silently

Trees rise as dark

Sentinels

The road is

Shortened

The intersection seems

Too hazy

Notice the dead

Gray rabbit

***** paws up on the

Curb

Pass this silent

Symbol

Cross over to the

Houses

Amber lanterns glow

Hazily

That familiar dusk

Has fallen

The amber dusk of

Long ago

Warm memories of amber lights

In fogs damp chill

You have to shiver while

Strangers peek out  of their

Windows

Snug warm people

They didn't see the

Rabbit

You must go back

Yesterdays memories

Warm to the bone

The rabbit needs to be

Buried

Somewhere in the deep dark

Woods

A baptism in hell

known by the  murderers, and those

of  ******* loss of soul...

They didn't know they knew...

is what they found out...

They hunger for mystical rain on their cheeks

walking down a lonely street.

They search for  requiem and

pulsating warmth of life,

anticipated as a gift...

That is the sting!

Mother's milk like honey from a flower

cannot save them.

Tragic to miss creation in

the chaos of their destruction.

The air is orange...
smoke snakes down the Sierras.

He and the dog went up there.

A wind pours hot by my rough cheeks.
The sheep are running wild.

The sky turns a pale grey:
a soldiers color.

I will evaporate waiting here.

I hear the dog's faint bark
in crackling timber.

Promises no longer matter!

A rush of raging heat.
The dog drags to my feet.

Too late.

The faint cruel whimper
of impending death.

Eyes burn and tears
are dry.

Aurelia!
I hear him call my name.

Aurelia!
Even fireman die.

The Sierras burn on faster...
Some lonely night I will go and gather his bones.

Then, I will take him home.

Wind distresses wood and window pane

Soundless damage in the shade of

stationary identity

Now, artificial names blow in the breeze

Where lush fields bloomed from wild seed

Memories plague my ears like bees

The meadows have been stolen away

A highway molests the scenery

And I taste the grief

My past ruined by washed identities

The scars have healed

Sealed off as far as eye can see

No shacks or desolate abandonment:

Romantic stops or medieval Fairs

The Age of Steel and Machine

has burst the attic of my dreams

Lamp light glows through drops of resin

Trapped life in heavy honey

Honey  that flowed from ancient trees


Your pale finger touches the smooth

surface of soft stone


Eons of treasure in cased in sap;

into our brief tomorrows

you wear these  fragil jewels...



The drops of resin like you

preserved forever in a beautiful

magic from the past...Rarefied

My ashes will hold my destiny;
nestled in a cool dark vase
tossed out to sea
I will not pass into nothingness
but a sweet sleep
sailing the ocean of death
whipped cream waves
will lick my cheeks
Remember me as a crystal
in the snow
Remember me as sunlight
on golden grain
Feel me in the autumn rains
I have cast off an over-coat
of clay
Remember the beauty
of our summer days
See me in twilight
where we played
The beauty of the flesh
vanishes but is destined
for memory
I will look at you again
Toss my ashes to the winds
And remember me!

I watched you

many times

eating an orange

in the shade of the cypress trees

beside the freeway

in the tall wet grass

I watched you

carefully peel the orange

skin

dropping the peels

in a little sack

How tidy yet unpretentious

you are

I watched you plump

each orange slice

into your pouting mouth

I could see your face

savor the **** yet sweet

juicy orange liquid briefly

touch your lips and

your small darting tongue

lick it away

You savor the orange

like a primal ritual as

you brush your blond hair

away from your face

Satisfied you put your garbage sack

in your satchel

and slyly glide out into the

blazing sun hair gleaming

bright colored skirt swaying

A secret smile on your

beautiful face

I will watch you

as many times

as many times as

you bring an orange

to this place

I will watch you

always

Deaf to nature's harmony creates a deviation

not meant as God's creation.

The unnatural bent is towards

false pleasures;

fools can reflect at their leisure.

Climb an ascent and see fire in the sky

is perfect harmony as it zig zags by

but the old male beast sees only youth

when all is worn; dumbness or delusion,

it remains illusion.

Life in a greater sense is harmony not madness,

performed not by chance but in nature's fullness.

Image by UW Digital Collections via Flickr/ Ivan Novikoff was my ballet teacher for twelve years when I was very young. Kathleen Colby/view photo on my profile facebook




Gypsies dance while the world spins on and on…

Pacing a beach in Africa a lion yearns for freedom and fun.

This old beast has known the wilds and never spun to happy tides.

The girls have thoughts of glory in their heads; no lion tales do they dread.

The lion just wants to dance, his old legs wobble when he tries to prance.

The girls let their scarfs fly high, the wind whips them as it should into the sky.

A perfume hits the lion’s nose; he lays down dead, he is very old.

The girls dance on without a thought.

A dead lion in Africa should have been taught that ballet

dancing is for the very young when you get old you are done.

The ruined church yard hidden
in a wild haunted glen...strangled by red ivy
and rope like vines.
A relic buried under moss and sod...
The stench of deadly flowers...
beautiful and sick.
Spirits hover like vapor in a blue mist.
Fog hangs on broken statues: headless angels,
saints with no lips.

A pitiful howl, haunts the glen. Frightens
the country folk who gasp as they pass;
a headless horseman would cause such fear.
The legend says, if you look and the beast catches
your  eye, you will die with blood to **** until
you are dry. Your tongue will swell and hang
out your mouth. you'll join his legions lined
up for sport. He'll giggle and wiggle you till
your body just fails.

Hawks hover in covens ore the old grave plots;
headstones smashed and holes in the ground
where coffins were found.
Corpses buried with all their blood. No under-taker
in this back woods town.
The beast is angry and lusting too. He hears her laughter:
his siren from hell. Where did he plant her? He cannot
recall. He laughed at his legions propped up against
the wall. His army of ghouls so soiled and bald.

The beast falls to his hairy knees. "Please spirits, where
she be? Let me lick her clean. I have a desperate longing
for this zomie queen. I burn with lust and desire."
The spirits laugh, "This is your fate. Why did you ****
her if your love so great?" "Love!" the Beast's  yellow eyes
blazed. "I just want to **** the blood between her legs."
"Your soul is worthless even to Beelzebud. Your paramour
interests him too." "No, she is dead.He cannot want a corpse.
Oh God, he'll turn her into a vampire and I'll be lost."

"Oh spirits. what can I do?" "Why don't you die, then we can
take him your giant eye." A scream let out in blasts of flame.
"Go back from where you came.  Let her spread her fleshless legs
for that lean adhorred monster. Let him make her one. Vancre La
****. *****! If he wants her more. Her blood is black but sweet
as cheeries. Now, she is but a bloated corpse. She lost her
beauty. Let him have her. I care not."
The Beasts rears up and beats his chest. He howls and  crys.
He bites his own arm; the pleasure of pain.

"I seduced her into my art. If she wants the devil gone is my
heart.,if ever there was one in the start. I've been tricked.I sold
my soul to have her blood to restore me new." The spirits giggled.
"You're dead, you fool. You are the ghost of the beast in all men.
Hold her bare bones till they crumble to dust. She will be gone
and what have you left? Men always **** the thing they love.
HOWL IN THE NIGHT! You can't **** her blood...

AHHHHHHH....

I went to sleep in a slipstream
Woke to a world gone mad
Red ran like a river down barren streets
All was upside down
The sky was a seamless grey
People were black and white
Lost in an old time movie
The sight filled me with fright

I heard a hideous laughter
A one eyed magician poked me straight
Pick a card, he said
Pick a card or forever exist in exile
before it is all too late...