Scorpions and frogs
And drownings
Are a timeworn warning
Against trusting the cruel,
Unkind, and ignorant
Or being surprised at their nature.

I always read the parable
And faulted the frog
For trusting a scorpion.
"Never I, nay never"
I thought
And swore i would be better.

Now i look around
And i see
Im in a river together
With frogs, and scorpions
And maybe a chimera or two.
And we're all drowning.

I don't know right now
Who to blame
Or whom to turn to -
Maybe thats the problem
Or maybe
It's just my nature.

There are 365 days in a year,

I want to give you every one,

But if I gave you 364,

You act like I gave you none.

Maybe I should give you more,

Even though I don't have much left to give.

Maybe if you can't take 364,

We should each find our own life to live.

What is the smell of purple

On crashing rocks of disarray

Whose fractured life leans against

The alabaster clouds of yesterday

Crimson rides of swirling moss

The loamy roots outstretched

Burning passion intertwined

Await on bated breathe

Fiercely loyal, apathetic

Flames upon the threshing floor

Sing the songs of all who wander

While others wander nevermore

Alone we sit together holding

The branches sway within the wind

Emerald skies forever shining

And trails that turn on endless bends

You and I, together, alone

But what is alone if not for want

Turquoise flames sprinkle down

This cursed, sacred haunt.

Maybe, yes, probably so,

If, and, but, or neither,

Stop waiting and just go

Synaptic frenzy harsh and wild

Birds on maroon roads below

What is meaning more than tired

I bask in darkness's glow.

Silent, somber, ever pressing,

Night into my mind and thoughts

The silence leaves me second guessing,

With fear entwined and ever fraught.

Ephemeral night, in silken dressing,

Ever found, seldom sought,

The dew my skin gently caressing,

In this embrace I am caught.

To the beauty of the night

Where stars are gently hung,

And the glory of the sight

Of the void I am among,

This passing lack of sight

As the world becomes unstrung,

The song of darkness alights

As nocturnal hymns are sung:

First the cooing breath of wind,

Then the rustle of the leaves,

The whippoorwill cries again,

The dove gives her last reprieve,

The blades of grass harshly bend,

River eddies on rocky sieves,

I find myself at peace within,

Night's calming peace relieves.

I wish only for your touch,

To feel again whole with youth,

Once more begin our carnal truth,

That secret rite I miss so much.

I pray to feel your gentle kiss,

The blithe joy of your company,

Such deprived has left me agony,

Instead congeal in ceaseless bliss:

May time alone not break our bond,

Nor forsake our tempered vow,

In absence let us not abscond,

Love's fruition preserved til now,

What'er occur, or fate allow,

May we remain what eternity allow.

Behold a fire, fanning tongues

Of crimson warmth dance along

Inviting, smooth, and brightly lit

And comforting warmth emit

Her crackling warmth and light

Illuminating and  bright

Darkness held at bay

Til night passes into day

Take heed that once you look

Not to touch the caressing flame

Nor fondness for warmth mistook

Lest only oneself be to blame

Whence you prudence had forsook

Ne'er be you whole again.

Curse you, Heart, you fickle fool,

Whose honeyed words and silken tongue

Promises gaily lead along,

Ledges, scant, above Demise's pool!

Curse also Mind, whose steeled resolve,

Through e'ery belaboured trial, strife, and toil,

Had never graced one obstacle nor foil -

That love round which all thoughts revolve.

Curse you both, myself besides,

Fickle rakes, vagrants violate

Curse also I, wherein both reside

For whom Sense must oscillate

Curse most Love, the worst of Lies,

Death of Reason, curse of Fate.