On the eve of early rising, with curious companion
We climbed to the highest peak, to yield clearest view
This vantage point was inaccessible to the common without clearance
The stolen key allowed me to explore forbidden fruit
We stood on the platform under star studded quilt
Quietly we crossed the bridge to another realm
Peered in through the frosted window at laboratory dormant
Followed the black path laid down over rocky roof
Hidden was a narrow hallway, a strip along the ledge
The average passerby unaware and far below
Made our way up a ladder to the top of brick structure
There I found that light shines even in the ***** city

Today I witnessed a ****** in the cobwebs
The swift and crafty arachnid ensnared suspended cicada
The cicada several times his size spun into his spindles
Soon a drained addition to the cemetery of exoskeletons
It twitched but with an air of hope long gone
He embraced his fate long before forced by spider fang
The stalker surveyed him, perched like vicious acrobat
About to perform his grand finale among the dust and decayed wood
The drawn out death captivated me, stole my attention
Like the gallows in the streets of times past
I watched and felt the transmission of energy and life
The power to spare a creature, but I let the world turn freely
This one lived and died similar to you and I
The universal experience of limited time
Bacteria to insect to man to deity
Some day we are mummified and disintegrate in the attic

Today probably marks one of the final occasions
Upon which I will visit my grandfather
Long years have made him weary
A war drawn through many winters
He is deceptively small, hardly more than five feet
But like an iceberg his hidden self is vast
Travelled the world on military campaign
He does not speak of this part of his past
My family makes prompts in asking
How he crossed the Channel, entered Germany
The frontline combat that ensued
Has never escaped his conscience
At the slightest mention of the Battle of the Bulge
His face glazes over, and he is brought back
He relives instantly, right in front of me
The soldiers who died, friendly or not
I never asked if he killed anyone
And he would never tell me
The men of his time were moved to terrible actions
They returned home numb or wrapped in plastic
I cannot imagine such an experience
To be held so near my age
Spent several fortnights living in a foxhole
The bloodiest battle, taken by surprise
My father’s father like many fathers
Did what he had to do
He remains a soldier to this day
My respect is endless for the mighty

Nighttime session, the troops gathered in the barracks
I am the early bird waiting while I think of words
See the sorry *** in the glass start to mutate
My face scrambles in a madman’s flash of brilliance
I shake in disbelief, making my supposed normal return
The last of many flashbacks to a freaky fungus festival
My companions enter the stomping ground unaware
A trace of spasm in my body, of light refraction in my gaze
Within ten seconds I went from stagnant and stationary
To drunkenly wobbling, blind-deaf-mute-terrified
My vision was the first, flooding steadily with snowy diamonds
I noticed a distinct detachment from myself and my location
Head began to throb and ears shot jets of sound
Like a pulsar detectable to keen eye on rampage
Bright white light, increasingly suffocated by diamonds blinding
Sick and driven to escape, my face drained of all color
My surprise became overwhelming and unbearable to me
I made a hopeless barge through blurry barrier
Dive into the bed that will bring me sane comfort
Curl in ball, pathetic and fetal, waiting for the war to end

Life stories are the purest form of expression
They are your interpretation of your existence
Your lens; your skewed perspective of the world
No one can take your memories from you
You can only choose to share them
I choose to collect them
Recently I came across a hurting man
Howling about lost possessions, wrapped in material mourning
Thirty years of age half his life spent in a cage
He carried the marks of his imprisonment on his neck and torso
Symbolic scribbling coupled with raised traces of injury and survival
The beauty of his anecdotal being represented
He showed me a photograph, a gorgeous girl of nine
He fought for the privilege to make her acquaintance
Her face he wore on his heart, where she dwelled
“Daddy’s Little Girl”
For thirty brief years these eyes had seen much
A walking burden, society had no vacancy nor sympathy
Money made from paving, though once upon a time
This figure provided every intoxicant imaginable
We bonded over mutual encounters with death
He narrated a story where seven men made an attempt to end him
They beat him repeatedly, punished him publicly
Like Jesus
His arm broke cleanly from a bat, but the seven hadn’t finished
They ran a van straight for this man attempting paralysis
He moved at a critical moment
This driver he later met
Alone, metallic tool of death in hand and vengeance flaring
He returned the favor, blasted the knee of the newly handicapped
Half joking, I asked if he had ever been apprehended
Half joking, he replied no and searched me for a wire
Next, he shared another instance where he should have left us
Riding a motorcycle over a hundred miles per hour
Carelessly on a quiet stretch of road, headed for fateful arbor
He ejected himself; the new bike totaled his helmet scarred
His hand shattered and held by screws like mine
In his words I saw myself
Despite his fortune at enduring such a wreckage relatively unharmed
He lamented his survival at the expense of prized possession
This criminal on the brink with Italian flag in ink
One who never learned to appreciate
Small, thin, bald and distinguished by goatee
Upset over the misplacement of a baseball cap
He made my friend aware of her beauty, assured her he was unworthy
I shook his hand and promised never to forget
Here he lies immortalized

A long time ago I left my house
On a journey to visit a friend
I took a familiar route, cutting through a stretch of woods
I encounter an old woman present with her canine
Chose to stay and converse somehow knowing that I should
She slipped seamlessly through several tongues
English, French, Spanish and Russian to name a few
I knew but two
We settled on French quite soon
Dialectic emerged from broken friendly phrases
Compared and shared our stories, the young with the old
In the back of my mind my destination urged me to leave
But the power of this woman’s soul kept me in her hold
We laughed about the chance of this spontaneous encounter
A rendezvous of unknown persons at the jungle’s edge
She told me I would later say that “this is a strange lady”
I walked away and dwelled upon every word she said

Upon leaving my place of toil and meager compensation
I seek the true reward lurking in undone deeds
I am more or less level, ravenous and hunting
Game having been at bay several days now
Before I know it, activity fully engaged
Her Red
And my Blue
Make a royal Purple
The rigid, unforgiving guest makes himself right at home
In a palace warm and welcoming
Instantaneously lost in the winding hallways
Climbing and descending spiral stairs
The view is tested from each window
The surrounding lands surveyed from this monument
The tour begins on the roof, with me on top of the world
Before I proceed to explore from the outside
The fine craft is admired; many masons must have cut
Through several suns and moons
Perfecting the polished stone that shapes this place of protection
Results bring motivation and I find my way with ease
I take control of matters in this intricate abode
The secret passageway I excavate and artifacts recover
Scream and sigh so synchronized success again I find
Effort made to appreciate the architecture to the fullest extent
I am acquainted, having made a home here
This palace is a special retreat and source of strength to me
I imagine myself there and all is well