Every bone broken; locked in like
a corkscrew, he knew what it
meant to be in Nirvana: it was
a cozy b&b,     the lady on the
counter was blonde,       Swiss,
Igor didn't know how he knew
that; so, rather presumptuously,
he stepped up to the counter:
"I'm dead, no?" he said in English;
she gave him a look that said,
                               'u tell me.'

If there were a language for walls,

It would mumble,
Per broken jaws.
The sun would shine through fragmented holes,

A windows' lone goal?
To magnify heat,
Til' all was engulfed.

With confirmed dead inside,
None knock, as they've read inscribed:

"Family tree,
Difficulty,
Unavailable."

"Family business,
Buy one,
One comes free,
Fire wood sale."

A tired woman, I be,
Fully and truly.
Death is all which lingers in these eyes,
Nothing more to see but an end,
But the bleakness of this soul.
Morbidity reeks through this skin,
Pain exhausted,
Words of others are spoken,
Yet they remain unheard,
Faces pass,
But all I see is that dark light.
A silent piece shouts out inside,
Aching for someone to revive this spirit,
She shrieks, she cries,
But just like the words others have spoken,
She remains unheard.
And as the faces which pass,
She’s forever unseen.
What only could this mean,
For a fate lingering in balance?
Will she fight death & accept the challenge?

A Milestone
Should not be a millstone,
Weighting your Spirit.

Rather, a stepping stone
Buoyed in the water of life.

Used to keep you
Above water
As you bridge the gap.

Milestones should not
Be millstones.

Rather, paver stones
Used to mark your path.
Where you've been.  
Where you're going.
Forming a pleasing pattern
In the Earth to gaze upon.
To excitedly anticipate.

Milestones should not
Be millstones.
To grind you down
While you continue to grow.

Rather, gem stones
That glitter with the light
Marking the Blessings
Along your path.

Milestones are not millstones.

Unless you see them that way.