The bar was closed,
Midnight approached
like a scythe swept silently.
Jim placed two glasses on the bar
one for him, one for me.

Black Bush shimmered in each glass
golden in half light
I proposed a toast to Da-
thirty years gone this night.

That day We'd brought you to the church
and the graveyard just beyond.
Larger than life you always loomed
to think its been so long.

They say that when a father dies
a boy becomes a man.
If it didn't happen right away
I hope you'd understand.

I'll never hear his voice again
or share a hug and kiss.
I'm drinking to remember
It was such a night as this.

a picture is a thousand words
while poetry is a million translations
of feelings said by one
to all

Memories of bruises
Velvet fit for kings
In the petals of a pansey
Oily sheen of raven's wings
The inside of a geode
Tanzanite in rarest form
The color of a baby's face
Right after it is born
It is the color indgo
To red violet of wine
Tracing stormy sunsets or
Boganvilla vines
Plums and grapes
remind one
Of purple's strange appeal
The color of great bravery
A wound which finally heals
Whatever your mentality
This collage of purple hues
Is simply a mixture of

The colors red & blue


SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/2/2017

if you are looking for a victim
just look in front of you
and since i see you in front of me
you must be a victim too

no one here gets justice
in this our modern age
we are all but victims
giving our souls away

no need to look any further
in your daily sacrifice
or pretend to play the victim
as we are all victimized

Hell is deserted
because the demons have left
to reside on earth

and the worst part is
we won't know who to fear 'til
they take off their masks