She is the kind of girl
Whose hips you watch sway,
Whose hair sweeps her back,
Whose knows her name in history.

The corners of her mouth
Are perpetual and unchanging;
Pulled in a taught steady smile
Bearing a daring snarl without exposing any teeth.

Her eyes blink slowly; her chin dips slightly,
Extending her sharp gaze under soft shadows,
Rearing her pupils as the horns of anangry bull,
And bowing her head to be crowned

The Edge of Darkness and BeyondBlack Heart Black Door Black Future
I have spoke about chains of darkness The Kingston Trio had a song the reverend MR Black it is special
To me it was what God used to start me back to church at seventeen after the loss of that blessed life as
A child I was standing in the bedroom at Wafford’s house right next to the small record player on the
Dresser and the song was playing the reverend MR Black was holding a meeting this giant of a lumber
Jack walked up to the reverend with a great hand he slapped the reverend the reverend didn’t say a
Thing you realize this is three part harmony and the reverend cut him down when he said you got walk
That lonesome valley you got to walk it all by yourself as the record spun around a spear flew off that
Turntable and went right into my heart I have been walking with God ever since not always continuously
But still walking the song ended and the Reverend MR Black is my old man well this tells another story of
My dad he had a call to preach he could tell a story you missed out when he used to tell about Dillinger
And the boys but as related before he listened to the siren call of a stag that was made like not unlike
Other brews made in Milwaukie finally this apatite and following it gave him this title from me at least
You have to salvage what you can he went from the king of kings to being the king of the drunks his
Name was Otis James the James from I was told was for Jessie and Frank James in some parts he
Honored there family name not this time I’m sitting here holding an old butcher knife that survived
Through the years back when most people struggled together the blade is dark with spots it was an item
I kept after my mother passed away but this opens a window in real time and shows how far you slide
When you leave the sure footing of God’s house I was still the magic five out at my mom’s mothers
House her sister and brother and law comes in come on we have to go up town and see your mother
Now the black door were already in the black heart for the life of me I will never understand why they
put me in this crucible setting pana jail down stairs they called the it bull pit the biggest blackest scary
steel door scary but not as scary as what was on the other side I heard a wild animal’s scream then drop
to a plaintive whimper then more screams and loud crying then they opened the door the horror was
complete with hair filled with weeds torn dress this creature set convulsing before my eyes my mother it
seems this former loving husband and man of God pulled out a butcher knife just like this one down the
road past the turkey farm a new spirit not the holy spirit would have killed my mother but she broke and
ran saving her life but that was all that was saved fast forward to twelve the housing Christmas eve
Another drunken beating in the bedroom I picked up a ball bat to go to my mothers aid the fact that dad
Use to throw and stick these same kinds of butcher knives in the door with accuracy didn’t stop me all
The bad drunken times and all that happened he would stop and tell my sister and me that he loved us I couldn’t
Raise my hand if he had only beaten me he would have been dead or close to it I just set down and
Listened to our sounds of Christmas this isn’t for everyone I know maybe someone had similar
Circumstances that it will help if you’re walking with Jesus God bless you if not know the one that rules the
World works these dead and broken lives you can’t win alone first you need a true mirror of the spirit
That will show imperfection and dangers Satan is the great illusionist if you think everything is alright
and your not ready to meet God very few use to throw caution to the wind and not check for trains at
railroad crossings the big long black train has us on its schedule don’t meet it with out Jesus.

In that camouflage she was not
the daughter of a dark night,
even his doubtful eyes
were blinded, and there by
hangs a tale;
a caterpillar of many hues,
curious looking,
voracious apatite stamped
her presence and movement.

In his manicured garden she started,
leaf after green leaf first,
then flowers all,
petal by petal, scent too vanished,
a beauty eating beauty
had some queer poetic justice
though he failed to see that
there was something amiss
but her moves didn't stop
by creating nakedness
as a garden substitute
brown with green.

She proved insatiable,
when they made love.
first like flowered plants
bees pollinating flower
with the pollen smeared
all over her body,
then they copied
animals in heat,
rolled all over the place
like cats and caterwauled aloud.
He was totally lost
lowered all his guards
that's when tragedy struck.

When they merged like
poison and milk
in a deluge of
deceptive sweetness
he saw her turn in to
a vampire bat
and eat his heart.

Four padded paws and a cold wet nose. An anxious bark and shedding fur. A desire to run and chase a ball. A tail that wags and an apatite for chewing on old shoes. Loyal to a fault and devoted to the end. A neglected dog is mans best friend. So when you see one in a shelter cold and alone, think twice about not taking a dog home. Some just need a little love and attention to become the best friend you will ever see. So when you hear one bark, its likely the dog is saying rescue me.

I once was a man made of muscle, with veins pulsing hot with blood, and a mind surging with currents of endless notions, and a stomach with an apatite to eat the world, and a heart with aspirations to lead. But now I am just a skeleton of what I once was. Just a hollow shell of granular matter, waiting to be obliterated by the most delicate of whispers.

Ode to the Magic


My warm magic, you inspire me to write.
How I love the way you brings hope and shines,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the light affines.

Let me compare you to a nonmember?
You are more calming, beautiful and bright.
Right frost nips the robins of December,
And wintertime has the smart apatite.

How do I love you? Let me count the ways.
I love your close bright colours and glitter.
Thinking of your clear sparkles fills my days.
My love for you is the native sitter.

Now I must away with a taxing heart,
Remember my hot words whilst we're apart.

My insides burn, turn and broil. I feel as if I could burst. I want to do everything. And yet nothing excites me. Im worn from a long day but try as I might sleep doesn't come. Worries of the world stir through my head. I ache, I hurt, I yearn to sleep yet she still doesnt come.
Hunger twists my stomach yet no food fits my mood or apatite. Colors are bright yet bring me no delight or interest. The night wears on and yet I am still not gone. Sleep is the cool water on a burn, the mute on a loud static. The pause, the peace. Sleep is the calm in a life of chaos. Why does she now evade me.
A yawn escapes my lips. Please come. End the pain and suffering of the day. Take it away so in the new day I can wake calm and prepared ( and a little grouchy). I've lost all ability to think and yet I still can't sleep. Another yawn, one step close to the rest, the goodbye to the colors and hello to the hollow darkness where thought carries its own weight and no longer weighs down my head.

Lust Leaves him.

              Just walk away like the others.
Don't worry, it's never too late to Separate.
Maybe it's time, What's the date?

I know there's something hidden, something you're covering.

                                  But you'll not whisper your reasons why...


Why?

Because You desire to watch us all suffer.
The gentle enjoyment begins to grow.
You foster an apatite.
The greed explodes...

And you are left there fattened, engorged by  all the pleasures.

They say
The eyes
Are the window
To the soul

If that is true
Then I have seen
The darkest of souls
And the kindest of hearts
All in one person

And I fell in love with those eyes
Their graceful gaze
Gliding across the room
Soft blue, like apatite
Or a river running over the soft stones of the ground

They dragged me in
And I can't let them go
Every time I see them
I can be relaxed and comforted
And every time we lock eyes
I lose myself

In those eyes that I love

Promise me you'll stay.
And I'll write about you all my life.
Not about your soulful eyes which led me astray.
Neither your hair with which I'd like to play.
Or that smile which hides and betray.
I won't write about that which decay.

I'll write about your madness which has no shelflife.
About your teasing of which I'm afraid.
About your victories in games and my strife.
About your mischievous mysteries a rife.

I'll write about the ghostly thoughts whom I can't evade.
About the prickly pain of a needle in my brain.
Without you my heart's raging a crusade.
In every chunk of me you parvade.

I'll write, you're the one from whom I can't abstain.
You're the ocean,  the very reason for rivers to flow and unit.
You're the land, clouds travel to be soaked and rain.
You're always here as if a legerdemain.


I'll write that by writing about you I've learnt to write.
I'll write so much that the reader will fall in love with your light.
Reading about you will be he's apatite.
Everytime he bows to worship at night
he'll pray to know if our story was complete and set right
So, Promise me because only about you I want to write.