Fifty years I see it clear
a face gone pale
a falling tear
a silent stare as she began
the cutting words that choked like sand
our breath was taken
our hearts were stone
my eyes were fixed
on a tear alone
before it hit the wooden floor
the world beyond our first grade door
had changed from one of children's dreams
from castles, songs, woods and streams
to a good man unsure of what to say
of the world we would have the following day
he removed his glasses
and trembling...he said;
"The President has died"

Camelot is dead

I am numb with morphine
and the shadows are moving in from the edges
like ghosts awaiting my final slumber
but the mind
in its final stages
in its final pulse of energy
begs to go back
to the night I paused
when you pleaded for clarity
where our lives were headed
did I love you
and I refused to crumble under your tears

I lost you somewhere between blind cowardice
and my detached heart
all the while searching for a reason
not to love you as I did

the thought of you could come at any moment
and stayed with me as clearly as
this final vision I hold now
what a fool I was
what a pitiful fool

I had a dream
and in the dream I was suddenly
given the first line of a song
and from that I quickly had a 2nd and 3rd
and beginnings of a 4th line
in the dream I woke up in a 2nd dream
and found a pen and an envelope from an insurance ad
I began writing around the doodlings already on the envelope
I could only remember the first line clearly
within the 2nd dream I was fighting hard to recall the 2nd, 3rd and
4th lines of the song from the 1st dream. I had finally finished the 1st stanza, and was trying to piece together what I had sloppily written around the account numbers, grocery list and additional notes I had written on this envelope when I was fully awake
this is when I woke up from dream 2 and began looking for a pen and paper
to write down exactly what occurred in these dreams
before it was gone...like the song

there you are
hiding just outside the glow of the streetlamp
in the alley, waiting patiently

who were you Jack?
you maniac
when did your mind turn?
what twisted event led you here?
keep it under control Jack
I know, she's coming
I hear her footsteps too

was it in your childhood Jack?
did something happen...
beatings in the dark?
were those nightmares real?

why not give that blade to me and walk away...
please Jack...
Jack?
I know...you must
it is what you are...
addiction is a terrible thing

are you ready Jack?
I hear your heart pounding
now make pleasant conversation,
slowly raise the blade as she eats the cherries
very good Jack
now watch as the life slowly leaves her stark, staring eyes
wait for the breathing to cease...
there...now you can go to work
you've left your mark once more
and you are fixed again

who were you Jack?
you maniac

I could not weather these aching thoughts of you
haunting pictures
were it not for the presence
of the quieting wind
I dare not enter these caverns of memory
almost touching
were it not for the calmness
of the quieting wind
I would sleep for a thousand years
dreams awaiting
were it not for the awakening
of the quieting wind
and here I lay
on this windswept hill
you drop a rose
and I watch you go
the quieting wind
carries your voice back to me
as once again you say goodbye

I followed you home from school yesterday
and I watched through the window as you played in front of Mommy's big mirror
so close to being a woman
but still as innocent as a child
I had to **** the family across the street so that I could use their house for a while
I promise you that they didn't suffer
they never saw me coming
such nice people
see what you made me do!
You'll hear about it on the news in a few days
that was me
my name is...
maybe I shouldn't tell you that right now
because when you get older
we will meet
and you will fall in love with me and my money
and we will live in our own Paradise
that is, until you do something to displease me
just like all the others
then I will have to **** you
just like all the others
Goodnight my Princess
I see you sleeping
so pure you are
sweet dreams

it will be some time
when I leave this mortal coil behind
before they discover the sack of bones
and translucent skin
a putrid puddle of mixed blood and body decay
and this is how I will be remembered
after 65, 70...maybe 75 years of absorbing
vast amounts of sideways smiles, false nods
and scripted ******* that our daily routines
have become
it will be some time
because I will choose to die alone
so those formalities are not required on a daily basis
those lies will not come automatic
on the rare occasions when I must
endure another of my own species
I am not built for small talk, chit chat
or breeze shooting
I am a tv with a few bad pixels
a record that skips
an oldie that you never quite knew the words to
I must have been born a second later than the universe had planned
because as normal as I once believed I was
something is off
just ask any other bot that has spent more than a week with me
it will be some time
because I think I may have gotten a larger dose of DNA
that ET is adding to our OJ
perhaps a test to see what would happen if they jumped the gun a bit
say 200 years
the neighbor called it in when she saw I hadn't left for work in a few weeks
or maybe a few months
gonna be hell cleaning these wooden floors

there are no dreams here
they are but fragments of thought
dismissed and abandoned to the wilderness
of our imaginations
to intersect or collide
perhaps hundreds or thousands at a time
to create some kind of patchwork mosaic of
tossed millisecond ideas and flashes of imagery
that have nowhere to go
these are not dreams
a vast wasteland of connected disconnected energy
of the mind

last night we walked together
and discovered our shared love of art
and ghosts
while the world slept
while I slept
I later met you in a book store
where we paged through Vangogh prints
and discussed the peculiarities of  'The Smoking Skull'
I awoke to a beautiful Sun and for a few joyous seconds…thought to
call you

there are no dreams here

and hence

from the deep stillness of night
the mountain is awash in light
seductive and golden
as if born of a million candles
the quiet is not disturbed

here
they descend upon the land
their presence awakens and ignites the soil
of this charred rock
a hum pulses through every leaf and petal
every eye of every creature is affixed
unafraid and knowing
their blood surging with life

the children of the stars return
our father's fathers
come to save us

the dreams are forgotten quickly
no longer a source of interest
of mystery
or even sadness
they are simply accepted and left to vanquish
into the ether
the years
the words
the search for fire
in a dormant soul
the light is flickering
the voice is quieting
the vision of a kindred spirit
is all but blind hope
the poet in me
meanders alone in his thoughts
that are short and void of secrets
he no longer hears the call
no longer seeks the path
to discovering
the perfectly articulated
thought

gracious green rolls over me
like wind over smooth rock
relenting to the eastern shore
and vast sea

my window
to endless flickers
orbs from eons past
speak to me as if time
were a minor,
perhaps non existent entity

whisper to me once more
those words you spoke
the first time we set eyes upon the night
together

if only you could lay here
breathe in the air of forever
and view in wonder
our souls chasing the stars

I live to sleep
it is here I thrive
around the curtain I peep
where the mind comes alive
mysteries await
in facets of blue
bird on a gate
in a field holds the clue
ships from the ancients
on a mountaintop near
show me their world
in a glass crystal clear
where liquid colors
explode in the sky
creating a portrait
of my lover and I
the ecstasy of thought
far beyond waking ties
will allow you to dream
with your heart and your eyes
open

there's a place called the Lowe
the Lowe Hotel
100 plus years of souls
passing in the halls
leaning against the walls
that view the Ohio River
in its majesty
the Lowe
where stories were born
and still thrive
the room breathes
and crackles with sound as I sleep
whispers...taps...creaks
they are my connection
and I theirs...
window to the living
there are no years
no time or space to measure

'We get you' she said
in a voice as clear as crystal
and as close as dead can be to the living

They came by the hundreds
not thousands or millions
for millions had been vanquished
they came seeking some glimpse of hope
here at the shoreline
driven from their homes
by the fires that raged
seen even by those banished to Moon's Sector 9
airtight tears for those left to face certain genocide;
the cleansing
the great winged beast carried the Surveyor
to cross the Sea of Shadows
how many are left
he was to determine
how long before Earth is ours?
He delighted in their suffering
as he now hovered above them
just off the ocean's edge
'You can perish here or be taken to Sector 9
it is your choice
you are familiar with slavery
are you not?
So you shall adapt'
and with that he snorted and his beast whinnied maliciously
like some monstrous, hulking mule
while rearing it's hideous head
some tree limbs were moved where the beach front gave way to a patch of woods
revealing a crude catapult contraption constructed of wood planks,
rope and a leather pouch
it stood upon a wheeled platform with a handful of men surrounding it
one man held an ax
it had been adjusted and was now aligned with the beast
the Surveyor, upon seeing the weapon snorted louder in defiance
just as the ax came down to cut the rope
the boulder struck the beast just below it's long neck
it reared back violently, throwing the Surveyor into the Sea
then flailing and kicking as it screamed in agony
falling to it's death
One man stepped forward and pointed to the Surveyor
as he gasped for air, bobbing in and out of the waves
'This is our home and we will be staying' spoke Jodehon
a glimpse of hope

thus began the Battle of the Nines

the riddle must be solved
did you take your life
in those fields?
some say no
the angle of the bullet entry is all wrong
and how did you make it to town with such a wound?
some say yes
when your burden on Theo was made clear
you must tell me
this question ravages my sleep
the recurring nightmare has no end
no answer
was it the cowboy?
why do you cover for such trash?

I sit in a theater
empty
as our souls are empty
our hearts are dark
you created such beauty
for a world such as this
I watch
as 100 painters paint a 1000 pictures
for you
but no answer comes
only the question

and then the words
whether they were truly spoken
does not matter...
'you want to know so much about his death
but what do you know of his life?'

rest in peace
Vincent

am i worthy of such a love
this simple man, this fool
whose darkness shines in dead of day
the night is where i dwell
only howls in the distance
and the silent call of the lost
spark my soul to move

am i worthy of such a love
whose light burns like a thousand Suns
illuminating the same darkness i call home

there is beauty in this world
beyond the desolate thoughts
beyond the pitch black that i see
beyond the colorless landscape where i dream
She resides there
this endless field of light and hope
this world i long to touch
am i worthy

As the Winter storm approaches
to cover my world in white
a blanket pure as fresh picked cotton
endless in my sight

I shall sit outside my mountain home
and watch it all unfold
a foot or more would warm my heart
if this old man's truth be told

See and hear the softest noise
in each flake's slow descent
a beautiful word
a symphony heard
inspiring event

I will close my eyes in prayer
as the final flakes are falling
and will be at rest
when the white is gone
for this day
is my calling

I opened the desk to look at the only photo I have of you
the colors have faded
and the edges are charred
but I don't remember when or how
did I do that at some point in a drunken fit
perhaps to draw my gaze from your beauty
or to symbolize how I was burned
the nights are long here
retired and struggling to find life
trying not to wait for death
you were night and day
love and hate
truth and deception
and in our brief time together
I was more alive than ever before
or since

you haunt me

I watch through a sliding glass door
she sits in her wicker chair
in the yard
with clouds unrelenting
there's a chill pushed by a strong breeze
yet she reads
I had hoped against odds
to find her here
inside
a smile waiting before I leave
a kiss to linger in the hours apart

our lives
our love
slip silent into these empty moments
of realization
fade deeper and closer
to a time when I will stare
into an empty yard

guardian of the lucid heart
bequeaths her soul to Lucifer
in exchange for life of the Sun
to remain
savage is the shadow world
where deals are made for our very lives
in darkness whilst we sleep
and should the balance tip in favor
of greed and indifference
towards the mother of all that is light
then her soul shall have been vanquished
for naught
we are the last semblance of humanity
capable of this salvation
all life, all spirit, all vestiges of our species
shall be scattered to the winds of time
our origin lost forever

Gray ash fell to scorched landscape
like dying moths
only scattered shells remain
of once noble statues
monuments of steel
fragmented against a burning sky
the face of apocalypse
grimaced an unwavering defiance
wings of angels
sent burning air snaking, swirling
as they descended
collecting the souls worthy of salvation
worthy of another life
in another time

I will find
in the remnants of a lost love's thought
some semblance of warmth
some piece of a dream past
some hope that it may rise again
from the embers
of a once blazing heart

Forged in rolling seas of dreams
the mystic well resides
dancing thoughts ride torrent streams
where imagination hides

frozen skies and neon clouds
carry words in crystal rain
faces wearing waves like shrouds
swallow wayward ships of pain

home to endless echoes
a twisted, feeble howl
eyes shift under sweating lids
satan's breath wreaks foul

playground to these hollow hearts
of Angels wandering lost
trade your soul for wicked wants
and Heaven be the cost

I walk outside my lucid skin
my waking thoughts return
I feel the sting of evil's tongue
the conscious breath does burn

I shall soon begin my second life
in pursuit of the whispering dead
they've anxiously awaited my unraveling
from the daily drone I dread

my spirit stirs to their mournful pleas
or excites in their playful jests
I sigh as she warms to my blood
in my half sleep her soul rests

they know me as they know their own
they find comfort within these walls
my energy is theirs to take
to walk these earth bound halls

the wind that howls in the deepest night
is a comforting sound
the dog that moans at the earliest light
is a soulmate found
I abhor the thought of wistful bliss
of nervous laughter unprovoked
I slip into my warm abyss
this sea of pain on which I choke
I wade in pools of sought despair
while others seek their mothers
I dance on floors of rotted wood
and sing to ghosts of lovers
I find it my salvation
to document this pain
to analyze the demons
and revel in the rain
perhaps one day I'll leave this place
and walk into the Sun
to face the light of happiness
content my deed is done

The two young poets happened upon the old Library on the same day
When she arrived she noticed the young man off in the dark corner
Deep in thought
He noticed her as well but did not let on
She took her place near the window
Where the Sun washed that part of the room
She opened her notebook
And awaited a spark to send her on her rhyming way
She had vague ideas of a pristine palace that floated among the clouds
Atop a chunk of deep green earth


The young man was absorbed in a story of a young girl
Her life had been taken abruptly
She was halfway to the other side; the ‘in-between’
As I once heard it referenced
For she was not ready or willing to accept her death


The hours passed and as the Sun began to wane
The young girl departed


The following day she arrived to continue her work
And immediately noticed the mysterious boy in the corner
She returned to her spot by the window
In the Sun
And began working meticulously on her poem


After a short time she noticed that the poet across the room
Appeared to be finishing his work
And was preparing to leave
Her curiosity outweighed her apprehension
And she approached the fellow poet before he arose


“I couldn’t help but notice that you were working on something…
A poem perhaps?”
“Why yes;” he replied
“Would you care to read it?”
“Only if I’m not keeping you from being somewhere.
You looked about to leave.”
“I would rather be here.” he answered.
“Well, I’ll only be a minute.”


And with that she returned to her place by the window and began to read
He noticed that her beautiful smile quickly turned to a look of deep concern and discord
As she finished, she appeared shaken, almost frightened
She walked slowly back to the boy


“I didn’t care for your poem. It is much too sad. Poetry should not be sad, it should be beautiful and magical. What you see in your dreams. I’m sorry, I must be going.”
“Have you never had a nightmare?” he queried
“Yes, but I would never write a poem about it.”
“And why not? Shouldn’t something as deep and meaningful as poetry span all of our emotions, all of our fears as well as our joy? Like the perfect verse, should not our thoughts be balanced?
Would we not cheat ourselves and our audience if it were not?
Balance is the key
Sun and Moon
Day and Night
You and I"


With that she turned and left the boy
alone in the dark corner


For three days his words weighed on her
How dare he interrupt her perfect world
On the fourth day she returned to the old library
Not sure if she hoped he'd be there
Her feelings still hopelessly askew
She entered the room and felt both relief and sorrow
For the boy was not at his table
Off in that dark corner
'balance is the key...you and I'
she knows now
how those words moved her
As she turned to walk to her place near the window
She was stopped abruptly by the sight of him
Awash in Sunlight
Wearing a smile as bright as her own
Sitting, waiting at her table

Do you know what we men love, ladies?

We love the raisins in our apple pie
when we just want apple pie
We love the broccoli in every dish
how you beg 'just give it a try!'

We love the fortune in toiletries
so there's no room for our combs
perfumes, shampoos and body creams
blow dryers, curlers and foams

We love how you sneak to the bathroom
just prior to us awaking
we plea for you to hurry
as our bladders are sorely aching

We love to join you shopping
and discuss the cashier's hair
and if we happen to like it
do we tell you...do we dare?

but most of all we love you
for the biggest, most valuable perk
is the motivation you provide
to get our ***** off to work!

I had hoped
as I had many times before
that it would not come
but the night would eventually depart
like the thousand friends I believed I had
vanishing like the shine of new paint over the course of time
sleep is better spent in daylight as the machine rolls mercilessly
over the depleting consciousness of those lingering desperate souls
and when the machine rests
I awaken
to roam the silent scenes and landscapes of the unbound thought
the minds well
this holy realm of darkness

the grass has covered your stone
such a sad thing to be hidden
though just a name
it has rained for several days
and the nights stay warm
others are here
and they too mourn
silently
on bent knee
to tend to theirs

I want to tell them about you
I want them to see your name
once again unveiled
such a sad thing to be hidden
one as beautiful as you
quiet heart
in a loud world

the Sun now hides
as dark clouds open
tears and drops of rain
fall as one
the wind stirs
and I see you in my thoughts
you are not forgotten

as the shadows speak to one another
in whispers above my traveling thoughts
what to make of this seeker of deeper dreams

I surprise them when I hear their voices
through the lucid silence and
the bending seams

like a surgeon's surprise
when a patient's eyes
flash open from deepest slumber
they are drawn to me
in my dream scape sea
and 333 is my number

though I be the one in search of answers
there are questions within you I raise
for the King of lost souls
and graveyard dancers
can provide you a glimpse
of your living days

here
the watchers gather
and talk amongst themselves
of things they have witnessed
for even in this age of awareness
those that believe,
those that know
are destined to gather
here

the night sky
the farm house long vacant
the coincidences
only they see
have them walking a path of light
few can fathom
like birds on a wire
they await
the inevitable storm

four bodies lay
here in this small, square piece of ground
made especially for you gents
they dragged your bodies from the shore
the morning after your ship was torpedoed
while protecting the North Carolina coastline
many remain forever in the Graveyard of the Atlantic
brave souls you were
giving your very lives
in defense of an ally
and seventy-five years later I take a few moments
to acknowledge your bravery and your sacrifice

upon returning home I replay moments from my trip
to Ocracoke and Hatteras Island
and during my short stay at the British Cemetary
when I felt honored
to be standing in the presence of the lost souls
of the Bedfordshire
a voice whispers...'We are at Peace'