Peace is a woman's lips
Wind wisps through milk sheets
A garden
Buzzing with pests.
It is hope through sorrow.
Peace is a plan fulfilled
Intuition
Bearing good fruit.
Peace is every moment
A sword drawn
Melted down
To form a chalice.
Peace is chaos organized
Set right to again be hounded
It is a lantern
Burning oil.
It is the promise of sunrise
Blood drawn in anger
Crusted and clot
On mesh fabric.
Peace is a scream toward sky
Cursing the God that made us
To realize
We are One.
Saturated with poison
A thorn in the heel
A burning lust for power
Peace is steel.
Peace, my friends
Is illusion
Is truth
It is life
It is death
It is cancer
It is youth.
Peace is within
Everything, everyone
Peace is our choice
Our release.
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 5:17 AM UTC
Still can’t sleep.
Like the walking dread.
Schedule I keep
Bemoaning the bed.
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 5:41 AM UTC
Mountains watching over
open vein streaming
pushed through from
nowhere.
Creatures singing war songs
sheltering their love.
Secret wind
whistles.
Crumbling avalanche,
at time’s tipping point.
No warning,
just down.
Speck of floating earth rock
spinning forever,
tree seed stretch
in space.
Silencing thunderstorm,
one moment,
to remember life
before.
Roaring fire comfort,
stories of the gods
to guide us
onward.
But the season’s changing
compassion choking
yet good keeps
breathing.
Sweet filling lung intake
scent of the flower,
the hilltop lilly.
The children reveal truth,
adults are hiding
the sunrise
glory.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC
Chisel your memory
To my plates.
Mind falling emery
Such is fate’s.
Mindlessly picturing
As by age.
Beauty quivering
Turning page.
Knuckles so painfully
Bending out
Tears fall gainfully
Hope’s sparse sprout.
Image so tenderly
Filling thought.
Eyesight so slenderly
Catching aught.
Breathing intake shallow
Lung fill work.
Every moment hallow
Even murk.
Approaching end rapid
Time so scant.
Experience vapid,
So much can’t.
But you are there,
In the echoes.
You are there.
Lovely,
Goodbye.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC
Caught in the snap of a wing
With a flap and a clap
And a sting.
Down to the ground like a stone
What a sound with a pound
All alone.
Watched by the flight up above
From that height what a sight
Of the dove.
Twists from the pain to the bone
Quite a sprain such a strain
Tragic tone.
Scooped by yet a net unknown
Panicked fret foreign threat
Worry grown.
Hope’s deceased from those eyes
Now a feast for some beast
No more skies.
Dress the break hurry fast
Half awake crushing ache
Make a cast.
Days soar by seeds so sweet
Seems so spry can you fly
Hoppy Feet?
Day has come grand depart
Slightly numb flutter hum
Flitting art.
To the blue build your nest
Cry your coo for you flew
Before rest.
Rainfall dream endlessly
Silent scream to the stream
Eternity.
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:38 AM UTC
Tomorrow comes,
the end
so soon.
If only
If only.
Forever...
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Living through the night.
Sometimes
the sweetest dreams
keep me awake.
Faded.
Whispers in moonlight.
Subconscious streaming,
wishing
to be made whole.
Tales of heartbreak
shatter-
happiness screaming.
Light, fantasy stroll
hijacked,
taken by duress.
Dragged through the swamp land,
washed up
on the dreamscape knoll.
Eyes bloodshot in stress
blinking,
staring at today,
all the lovely words
together
like a rose bush dress.
Petals floating affray,
stumble
and slice at the heel.
Trailing uncertain
passage.
A tragic ballet.
Dancing feet reveal
her strength,
and the future glares.
But I know she's strong,
mighty,
like well crafted steel.
Though it isn't fair:
Living.
She reaches her hand,
touches my fingers
softly.
I wake with a scare.
My soul, she commands.
Relief
floods over terror.
Crying out, I choke,
"Don't go.
Stay in our dreamland."
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 11:23 PM UTC
In the morning,
they worked hard
because they worked
for themselves.
By afternoon
were disenchanted
and became goods
upon a shelf.
But that night
the moon turned red
because the toys
came to life.
The next day
the twist ties were left
but not a thing
was right.
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 9:44 PM UTC
His left hand flourishes
But
The audience watches intensely
There
The motions dazzle
Is
Everyone paying attention
Something
Unexpected
Else
The illusion is shattered
Transpiring
The magician takes a bow.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:56 PM UTC
The foundation starts to crumble,
building like a muscle spasm
seemingly suddenly
but the chasm’s not shallow.
A throbbing pulsation,
intensity multiplying
through a fragile vein
where the weak start to stumble.
There are cracks in the sidewalk,
disjointed like tendon
shouting through the pain
of childhood stained in chalk.
And the moment’s not passing.
The golem’s gnawing,
crushing bone into sand
into dust into hand.
The grinding screeching metal
causing the spark to ignite
the forgotten weeded mind
which fights but won’t settle.
Then the clenched power courses,
telling lies in righteousness
crying, “this won’t end!”
unless you stop it.
But the repletion of madness
tears the blood from the knife.
The throat is open.
The mountain’s *****
punching holes into families.
The swinging freedom of
unconscious motion
finds a target in innocence
if exists such a myth.
Sweltering demented meltdown
eroding this tail wagging acceptance,
ripping at the skin of freewill,
proving a point.
That monster has no soul.
that demon stares backward,
smiling from the pages
of mankind’s fiction.
“Burn!” he hollers.
Suffer and burn.
You are my children
in the lake of fire.
Only when it dries,
staining the lips of emotion
can those eyes see once more-
there is a person buried beneath.
A man in the devil’s jacket.
A man.
Aug 10, 2018
Aug 10, 2018 at 10:58 PM UTC