A heavy crow perches on my shoulder,
Slowly gnawing at my fraying dignity.
It screeches in my ear, and I suffer
As it gently teases my swelling frailty.

I walk down a winding path, while the crow speaks
To drown me in its mockery. It watches as I am swallowed
By the jeers flooding from its mouth, as insults spoken wreak
Havoc on my stability. It calls me a stupid coward.

Its claws wipe mud on the yoke of my shirt,
Pressing ever deeper into my aching skin.
I am forced to kneel under its deathly weight—
It was getting heavier with the spreading of its wings.

I face the Earth, and amidst the gloom a puddle lay quietly.
A faint reflection stares at me, its ever widening grin enveloping my view,
With its black feathers ruffling gently in the light breeze, slowly
tears myself in two. My mind and heart, in constant conflict, are irresolute.

My eyes see nothing but darkness. Clouds fill the gray sky,
And thunder shouts in flashes. Rain pours in roaring torrents…

I stand up, but the crow is gone. My shoulder feels not the pain any longer.
Silence—the mere echoes of sorrows long gone are but faintly relayed to the present.
I wonder whether the sun would shine for eternity, for the past is now a stranger.
Yet a tiny black feather remains stuck on my shoe to remind me of a bygone lament.

THE DISH RAN AWAY WITH THE SPOON

You’re just a little bitty dog
with a great big old bone.

Can’t take it with you
...can’t leave it alone.

The moon is ticking backwards
the clock don’t know why

stars are just tears
that the night has to cry.

The neon dances in the puddles in the streets...
...heartbreak echoes in the empty passing feet.

You think your life’s a musical
but it’s more Film Noir.

You look at a map that says
YOU ARE HERE
but you don’t know where you are.

The sun came in the window -
- your love walked out the door.

I always adored Country & Western
but had never lived it before.

You’re just a little bitty dog
with a great big old bone.

Can’t take it with you...

...leave it alone!

What is there to write, when inspiration has seized?
When the words that I utter sound like dull clichés,
As I paint with monotonous black and white shades?
I seek meaning from the ashes of a dead flame.

When it seems that melancholy favors me, and
Spirits of joy neglect my soul, left to live in grave
Solitude, whilst I see others possessed of joy,
Inebriated through the potent power of love.

That the tree I tend now a fruitless wicked snag
And with the path I take now comes its deathly end
Be the reason of such remorse and dejection,
This I abhor, with powerful opposition.

I have died a thousand times, yet lived a million more
Swept in the natural flow of whispers through the night,
Evolving ever so slightly through the passage of time.
The mind’s colorful fruit slowly fixing my frayed fibers.

I am immortal, yet nevertheless dynamic, but still unchanging.
I may fall with the leaves of autumn, only to return the next year,
To haunt the minds of peoples beyond, and coat their lips
A golden hue. Shall I tarry any longer in pen and paper?

Don’t worry, it’s okay
To hit the pause button
Whenever it’s too much

You can’t hit replay
You can’t fast forward
But you can take a break

Then you hit play again
When you’re ready
When you’re better

So you can fix what
You wished to replay
So you can live on
And move forward

i looked at the mirror, but i still could not see
what many have pointed out time and again…
i looked once more but not a change;
‘twas just me, a self looking struck as it happened he could not see--

i looked at the mirror, but i still could not see
why men and women have said good things…
i looked once more but not a change;
‘twas just me with ruffled hair and eyes still too blind to see--

i looked at the mirror, but still could not see
why many have envied my name…
I looked once more but not a change;
‘twas just me with--OH wAIT! i see it now… and it's as cLEAR as it can bE!

Exiled to dusk,
Fractions of the sun
Begin to lift away,
In concealment
We shudder,
Casting our reels
Into a pond of uncertainty,
Clock hands bend
With advancing shadow,
And speak of time
Only in past tense,
I so want everything
I ever felt for you
Preserved for posterity,
Even should forever
Be far less than
We imagined.