Only a fool plays this game of mind

In all the piles of snow outside

A single movement

The black eye of the raven

Brittle days brief and dark

Blood flows thin

Burgundy to gin

Shallow yellow light

Barely penetrates

Curtains that separate

Reality

Prisoner of this dark world

Garden of wind and death

Pine trees crusted with snow

There is misery out there

Nothing is out there

Let the raven pluck

Out your eye

Is this game almost over

The mind is never satisfied

My aim is noble
and steady as a flame
Stark obessions
reveal my earthly pain,

I am beyond all reason
believe I am no saint.
Love is a complex fiction
especially when it drains.

Twilight discovers truth and clarity.
Love really takes no brains.
A **** and ****** on my block,
a hideous bombing in Irag.

My love, she grabs and screams "Obey."
I pinch and push her far away.
"Let's celebrate our mundane life,
otherwise Love, pick up that knife."

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.

Fires burn in the hills around the city.

Smoke curls down like a deadly snake to choke

and take....

I watch and know the knowing....

Our yearly ritual fire and then

a strange voice whispers an invocation,

commonplace yet unknown to most,

this grace...

There is a pathway of unheard fractured voices

that yearn and cry out their poetry...

Catch their words...quickly now!

Words fade as fast as fireflies in a fire.

My ears stretch to their insistence,,,the

poet's pain of knowing.

Their insistence, we are not alone

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

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

This tiny room is dark hell.

Ashtrays hold hills of butts.

I feel the smell of smoke.

And smell the flow of motion;

long sounds of cars outside

make brown shadows

move across the dingy walls.

I am staring at loves face.

I am as real as you.

I look over the bump on your nose.

Nothing has changed.

No match flame in my eyes.

Vita Nu Ova! No! No!

A dead world inside and out.

And this agony of mortal pain

with no release too much to bare.

When love is only a word…



Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/a-room-in-hell/#ixzz0vqkkTaoZ

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

They ran her ou ta town with

her ****** hanging down...

They said she'd put a spell

on the grocer's witless son.

See how stories get twisted.

The truth is much more misted.

Twas the out house that she sought;

having drunk gallons of rot gut,

and an alligator popped up to

bite her rear.

The dim wit heard her scream;

thought he was in a dream

and ran out to assist her.

Seen together in this fashion

twisted up and rather mashing

folks took the first impression

and their tongues began a wagging.

They put her on a bus all covered with dust.

The grocer's son sitting right beside her.

Nothing like a twisted tale to

put you on the road to desolation

The falling leaves drift by my window.
The autumn leaves of red and gold.
Since you went away the days grow long.
Soon, I'll hear them sing old winter's song.
But, I miss you most of all, my darling;
When autumn leaves begin to fall...

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 battle field was smothered with blood.

My friend had lost his head.

I got up and walked between the bodies.

My sobs were dearly meant.

The artillery smoke hung like a haze;

how many men would go to graves?

I was lucky, I was still alive.

No more battle for me to ride.

I saw her then from in the smoke.

Lovely, she took my hand but never spoke.

She led me past a field away;

full of flowers and birds this day.

I leaned back in the tall sweet grass.

She stroked my head like no other lass.

Her beauty went beyond any words.

Her body like a goddess , she broke my fears.

Something so lovely to come out of death.

Her lips like wine, sweet was her breath.

She pulled me up and nodded away;

a place to go where we might stay.

She lead me past the battle field;

down a hill and into wall of hay,

beyond was a graveyard and an open grave.

She kissed me sadly, tears in her eyes.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci had let me die.



Read more: http://authspot.com/poetry/lady-of-death/#ixzz0tUzsE8rK

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...

She ****** the marrow from my bones.
Smacked her lips, she'd fed her fill from my blood.
I could only think of long winter nights
and found myself in terrible fright.

My instrument so amorous
I believed her lies.
How could I know
her beast inside?

It began with my lust for wine.
that fueled this madness; a helpless
debaucher now souless and dying.
I hear my wife and all her crying.

The ***** promised wine
then ****** my blood.
The feeling was mutual, familiar
and the dream was done.

You will die, I heard her say.
This **** I found in an alleyway.
This rotting corpse with no remorse.
All it wanted she got and more.

Does this mean I've lost my soul?
Dead drunk I'd laugh and not recall.
My mind was driven by autumn tides.
Drink and madness killed my life.

I sail the morrow on the morning tide.
In this casket I will reside.
The **** of ***** took  all my pride.
The ****** **** not at my side.

She laughed again with no shame.
This is not a sublime disgrace.
My wife, dear wife won't touch this box.
She must go and get a lock.

Bones chained in this prison dark.
Eternity has no end...no start.
My blood flowed in her throat like a sobbing flood.
I sought oblivian in a vile ****.

My blood drunk by the Devil's  *****.
Sorry dearie, there is no more.
My dearest wife absolved my drink.
This foulest  of deeds beyond her brink.

I am a ****** soul with unbending regret.
None of it matters for I am dead.
Forgive me wife, your love was a flame.
My hideous lust your only shame.

I am  a tormented cry that no one hears.
Good-bye...

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?

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."

Ravens circle in the sky above

Dark images cast upon the snow

I sit on a cold bench in the garden

Waiting

Snow falls like white dust

He said he would be here

In this garden of thorns and rose hips

This garden of skeleton sticks

And blood red berries

Tassels on my wool cap from Finland

Sway in the icy wind

A grey heavy sky above

Ravens dive towards the sea

Ominous signs

Waiting in this decaying garden

A very old man sits next to me

His white beard covered with snow

He isn't coming, the old man says

My body dead to words

Don't you know? the old one whispers

Don't you know?

Days pass,
days pass----
shadows tread
the night.
Hearts break
glass shatters
from above.
Grey eyes
blink back
the years in rain.
And the world
comes xlowly
to an end.

I came here to die

or write the truth

They left me behind

the car with no roof

I have little water

my throat so dry

Pen and pencil

can't sketch this sky

There is no sky here

only a white sheet

I smell summer linen

a snake at my feet

It's all curled up and

looking dead

All but its poisonous

little head

Red tongue flicks out

i feel the sting

Finally able to sit

and write this thing

Waves of heat rise

before my eyes

I'm going blind

before i die

Now this thing will

not get written

The desert got me

and i am smitten

A crown of daisies on the dresser

Reflection of our joyous past

Bewilderment in your dear blue eyes

now blurred by pain...

I caress your feverish brow and smile

as I always have...

Let go...let the silent sleep still your pain

Memory keeps you close to me

Your laughter like bells rings in my ears

Your special glow still lingers

Sleep now my friend...

Embrace the great love in eternal grace

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.

In the corners where I do not go

lies a heap of dust ***** green with mold.

Mother told me to sweep them out.

She doesn't know what they're about?

I poked then once

they snapped my stick,  teeth marks

not a little *****.

Someone has to know the truth;

not as long as Mother is under foot.

Mother calls me evil names;

she has her way to cause great shame.

She says I'm a **** for not getting the broom

after all this is her room.

I told her the ***** had very sharp teeth.

She says I am a liar and must be beat.

So, Mother just to show me grabbed them

with her hand;

lost all her fingers and couldn't stand.

They began to devour her legs, she screamed

and called me a devil's knave.

Now, Mother is gone all is well.

Me and the dust ***** get along just swell.

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

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.

Many years ago

when the bloom was on my rose

I found God in the desert

innocently, I was alone

I heard a sound not

made by man

and felt the jolt of life

beneath the heat

a throbbing, pulsating stillness

beneath my feet

In wonder, I stopped...

a cactus flower

pink with ****** rupture

opened up her face

My heart was filled with love

I felt the flush, the rush of life'in this place

He took her child...

Where would the child be?

Spirits of the island wept for thee.

This is no mortal business, I declare.

The child is lost, stolen by human care;

the devil’s lot.

Mourn not!

The child still sings out, Mother find me!

Shake off thy slumber and beware…

lest you miss the spirits who will take you there.

Perhaps, a cavern beneath the sea…

your child will wait for thee…

So, free the spell that hangs like doom

upon the island lost to you…

an open conspiracy took your life’s breath away.

Let open sails take you where you’ll find yourself

and child too.

Mercy may have faults but nature is often kind;

your suffering will end in time.

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...

I lost my head at gound zero.

I am near “the Pile.” Too near…

Planes gone astray. This was not meant to be or was it?

Water is close, I smell it. My keen sense of wonder and longing.

I wish I was a carrot but nature determined my fate.

A man looked down at me and said I was ugly.

He pulled but I resisted.

My sister has half her head. She wears it proudly.

People will notice her for sure. She might get water.

Someone just might step on her.

I am rotting and rancid. I may beyond hope.

I need water. To be a wetted nymph.

**** you, keep those trucks away.

A flat stump has little chance to survive.

Another man hunched over me and vomited.

That was not nourishment. Why are drunks here at “the Pile?’

Just pieces of flesh and slashes of clothing and twisted metal.

Nobody wants to feed me. Water!

God can see everything. Happiness!

A good New York rain!

In this dark of times
shadows drape like drop cloths
I know the pull of pure desire
My days and nights scorch like fire
The walls sweat with my profanity
I see a torn moon and
Fill with chill of sun at noon
Death of soul I don't repel
My dark desire flames the fire
To lust for flesh against my own
I traveled looking returned alone
I am spent from evil winds
Torn asunder with life's thunder
I throw myself into unnatural light
In hope of sleep I pay a price
Waiting for lust to burn to ash...

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...

i waited for the sun

only grey shadow played

across the lawn and stray dog toy

i waited to see your shadow

shade me from a sun

hidden behind a black cloud

the dog is dead

the dog toy should be thrown

away and i

should leave this place

of memory and you

summer picnics dog barking

sun beating on pale skin

you weaving your hands

on my back with lotion

and the kiss swift and taunting

the laughter running

to the bright white sand

blinding and ocean blue

as blueberries

i should leave as i feel rain

coming coming to this place

where the sun

has forgotten to shine

i should take the dog toy

to spare it from the

rain

i should leave

i should leave now

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

There is a story

going around,

Jack the Tripper

is back in town!

Twenty girls

dead on their head,

beaten to death

with a piece of lead.

He trips then hits,

and bites his lips.

This ghastly tale

is is happening again.

You just don't know

who is your friend!

Girls, murdered and *****

then left to rot...

Jack you're a ripper

with a very poor plot.

I lay me down to sleep with dark thoughts

     swirling in my brain.

I knew the dreams would come

     and I would live again.

The dream life was exhausting

     as I met strangers and made house.

Dreams took me from my frosty life

     and lead me to release of spouse.

I'd travel to strange places,

     drink to my delight.

Wake up with indigestion

      in the middle of the night.

I lay there in the morning my

      heart racing to a dread.

Was I able to breath

      or was I really dead?

My gasp for air

     was a shuddering feat.

Then I would gasp again.

My wife she lay beside me

     unaware of where I'd been.

I'd look at her disgruntled

     face in sleep.

Asking why I had to

     take that breath?

I did so long to live again...

     so I went back to sleep.

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

I felt like the foolish American

My  translator book in hand

The streets are charming in Paris

A Britain I hunger for lamb

I saw a bright colored Bistro

Umbrellas over white tables

people eating and laughing

probably telling rescae French tales

i cannot speak much French

My little cheat did not come with me

She had other things to do

Like doing other professors or two

So, I sat down quietly and waited

A waiter came up to me

All I could say was, La moule en folie

He blinked and smiled and beckoned

me to follow. We went into a narrow alley

then up winding stairs. He knocked.

A woman’s husky voice said, “come in.”

She was lying on a bed fully naked

and pink as a salmon. The waiter

held out his hand. “Monsieur,la moule en folie.”

Rain...all it does is rain
The sky is sad...sadder than you know

Rain,,,rain beats down my window pane
I sit and cry with the rain

Rain makes me sad and refreshes my soul
Sadness is not the worst of all things

Sadness can make you feel and think
Rain can do the same

The elephants hide under banana trees
Elephants blink long lashes into the rain

There is a raindrop on your nose
I kiss it away and you laugh

Let's play in the rain
Let's be children again

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?

It is the things we don't speak about
the lies we hide in silence
Petrified trees of ice like our
frozen souls
Truth comes bursting
with an orange glory
The veil of discontent
revealed in the sun

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.

As the bruises fade I scare myself;

the abyss is close today.

Making love with you leaves me black and blue

and my mind goes blank when you stay.

Lightening strikes across the bedroom air.

A bolt strikes you in the head.

That lightening came from a pointed gun

and now you're finally dead

A harpie you may
have been...
Yet, delicate as lace
your fingers spin around
the spinning wheel.

To sit and watch you weave
is life's delight.
This keeps you near and in my sight
when eyes grow dim.

You weave a tapestry of our
love filled past.
Your wifely smiles are
just for him.

I feast my eyes
upon  you in delight.
You may be his
but not this night...

Our love is such
refined.
The fates we tempt
yet, endure sublime.

Our souls as one
till dust in time...
I can wait and watch
till he is done.