I heard your voice thru my desperate screams
So I clawed thru my ravaged soul
Just to stand by your side
I admired my own carnage
And handed you my heart

As I stood in a room with death today, she spoke of meaningful things. Peace and life and love and loss.  She grabbed my hand and said "do not rush to me, for I will meet you at your time.  Stop giving your power to the little things and don't let them tell you you're blind. Your cross, your bag, your little flag have no meaning with me. What comes is your soul, the spirit inside, that's all that I can see. For I am nothing to fear as long as you've known yourself. When your time comes accept my hand and leave proud of what you have done."  

My advice to you, as it was given to me, is to honor your soul inside. It's what was here before and all that will be left after to join the earth we come from. I shared the air and touched the skin of death today and saw how much life there is.  Don't waste your time feeling lost, just choose your path.  Don't judge the face or body in the mirror, for it is a literal shell that you do not keep. Cultivate who you are inside like a newly planted seed, and when your time comes, leave being a mighty tree to be given back to Mother Earth.

His words peel off the page
The way I imagine he'd remove my clothing
Intense
Tender
Passionate
Verse that pulls me under like the current
Of an ****** on the verge

Tantalizing my extremities

Can't you hear them?
The screaming
The madness
The fear

Like a knocking at your brain
Demanding to be heard
Can't you hear them?

Their voices
Reaching like hands from the grave
Ready to pull you under
Into tumultuous rage

Clothes shredding beneath fingernails
Wraiths twisted faces
Staring you cold with empty eyes

They don't even bother to hide
They wait beside the bed
Not having the consideration
To be beneath it

Can't you hear them?
Circling around and around
Until bile threatens to expel

Make it stop
Make it stop
Quiet the torture
This dizzying torment

Can't you hear them?
These monsters beyond the veil

Come sit lost knight
At the table for ghosts
Draped in webbed memories
Of victory and battle
Clandestine glances
Bloom and blush long buried
Delicate sighs of ladies
Echoing in the ether
Ghostly kings reminiscing of laughter
Wearing robes of sorrow
Lifting silver cups
To lurid lips
Vapored fingers touching life now gone
Come sit lost knight
At the table for ghosts
Where we dine on shadows
Entombed in time

-

" You have no real sense of meter,
your rhyming is non-existent
and you spell like a brat,
following no rules"

Rules?

i didnt know i had to follow
any rules, 'cept the ones in my
head that represent limitation

"Well, you need to read up
on some of the more classic
"recognized" poets—
Learn the Proper Etiquette !"

Dood,

i have read more than a few lines
of that finer moem-age poem-age,
and if you want to write about why
roses are red on fine sheets of poet paper
with a fountain pen in the fashion of Kipling—

Cool;

i will more likely write about how well Violet blew
over the top of a half empty jug of bourbon with
a ball point pen that skips more or less
in the style of Bukowski—

and then someone can say that
we had both written poems
about Colorful Flowers...



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