Flame tongues whisper in hushed delight,
Dancing in the theatre of shadows and light,
Flickering essence, burning bright,
Unseen in day, yet a beacon in night.
Crystalized breaths of winter's kiss,
Veiling world in a glassy abyss.
Mirror of frost, paradox tryst,
In its stark cold, beauty exists.
On the palette of silence, the wind sketches tales,
Invisible strokes on the cosmic scales.
With songs of the ancient, it narrates and hails,
A poet's quill, unseen, never fails.
Liquid mirror in moon's soft gleam,
Ebbing, flowing in an endless dream.
Crystalline whispers in silver streams,
Telling tales in ripples and seams.
In the land of dreams, where realities blur,
Where starlight breathes and nebulae stir,
Unfettered minds in a cosmic tour,
An invitation, an open door.
Then come the nightmares, cruel and sly,
Stars extinguished in the pitch-dark sky.
Where sweet dreams wither, hope left to die,
A sinister ballet in the mind's eye.
Fire, ice, wind, and water, dance,
In dreams and nightmares, given chance.
A symphony played in life's vast expanse,
Eternally locked in this mystic trance.
Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 2:40 AM UTC
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
Where liquid courage flows like a serene stream,
Two star-crossed lovers, locked in love's dream,
Find solace in the bottom of a bottle's gleam.
Bukowski's grin is etched on every glass,
Shakespeare's ink paints every blade of grass,
Loves lost and won, the sands of time amass,
In every draught, a play, a sonnet, a farce.
"Oh Romeo, wherefore art thou in this dive?"
Juliet questions with Bukowski's jive,
In shadows deep, where life's low-lives thrive,
Both poets find where their spirits truly come alive.
"No music in the spheres, just jukebox hum,
No royal court, just the kingdom of ***
Here in the tavern's dim and smoky slum,
Plays the sweetest song, to which my heartstrings strum."
Half-filled glasses, and half-empty hearts,
Where Shakespeare's art meets Bukowski's smarts,
Love’s theatre stages, in unseen parts,
A bittersweet tale of love that starts and departs.
Two poets' spirits, in timeless dance,
Ensnared within intoxication's trance,
Half a world built on romance,
And half a world built on chance.
In every verse of the drunken bard,
In every line where love is marred,
Lives the echo of a love discharged,
On pages stained, and hearts left scarred.
From Verona's walls to L.A.'s bars,
From tragic tales to visible scars,
Love, life, and all that mars,
Bound by the moon, and beneath the stars.
From Shakespeare's quill and Bukowski's gin,
A half and half where dreams begin,
In every sin, every win,
Life is but a tavern inn.
So here's to the poets, in verse and in drink,
For it's in their words, we begin to think,
Life’s half tragedy, half jest, in a blink,
The tale of us all, writ in permanent ink.
Jun 16, 2023
Jun 16, 2023 at 2:38 AM UTC
son,
you want to be like me
i know it;
i see myself in you already
in three
like i saw myself in my father
whenever
i do not remember three
maybe you will
but, if you don’t
know that
i have been where you are
know that
you will go places
i have never been and will never will be
godspeed
i was there too
without
anyone
like you
and "there was music playing now"
within
and there always will be
i love you
due diligence
done
Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 1:51 AM UTC
they could be dead
they could be anyone
you have ever/
never met
but in meeting them
on the plane of enlightenment
you needed only to see them
as they were
and as you did
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 5:17 PM UTC
social overlord
chemical overlord
electronic overlord
disingenuous overlord
undifferentiable overlord
autobiographical overlord
real overlord, hear this cry
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 2:45 AM UTC
Poorly phrased tautologies lie in the crow named ******
Wanton airs of royal talk distort her lesson further.
Final wit; a shameless hit.
She caws as you consume her.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
...follow your heavy footsteps through the moss that carpets a maze of tired oak. Solemn warnings calcify soft thoughts and point you at the coal on the horizon. Its splinterglow peeks hot squints through the arboreal tangle. Topaz streams convene and braid themselves around your spine. The stones in the riverbed grow smoother and each becomes a grain of sand. You let the sand console your roots as you curl your toes and fall asleep. Time becomes a living dream about life, which in turn finds you, one day, walking deeper into the forest.
Jan 6, 2019
Jan 6, 2019 at 9:59 AM UTC
Here I sit and think and ponder
While my wild mind keeps its wander
And my son enjoys his slumber
But my thoughts increase in number
What a world we wield these days
Of trump cards played in wicked ways
And all around us keeping haste
My thoughts can do naught else but pace
Yet without what we hide within
There would not be a tale to spin
Or crash and burn in red hot sin;
Forgive me as I drop a pin
My Son, I must relay to you
A thought which haunts us lucky few
Who often wish we never knew:
The only truth, these days, is you
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 11:05 PM UTC