WL Schuett

WL Schuett Sep 2019

Window shades half open
a warm summer breeze.
Soft conversations
drifting up from the street.

Smoke from a candle
feather pillows
and lace .

Spiced wine , red apples,
cool satin sheets.
The touch of lace on
sweet hidden delights.

Deep velvet music
soft , soulful and blue .
Cool beads of sweat
like mornings first dew.

Sleepy dreams fade
from a deep sated sleep .
As morning creeps in
through the window
like a thief.

WL Schuett Aug 2019

Second Truth

The trail ahead was stacked
high with thunderclouds
that never came their way .

They rode the ridge where
the flowers faded.
Where it did not matter
that they knew no names .

They built a fire
under the Milkyway
by an avenue of quiet trees .

When she laughed
the dancing flames
were trapped in her eyes
and from behind she heard
him smile.

Lost on the borders of heaven .
A quickening of the moonlight .
The limitless depth of color .
Her hot breath on his face .

After a while
she slept in his arms .

Two people who met too late .
Maybe years ago under
a thinner moon
and a wider meadow.
The flowers would not
have had to fade .

Doubt settled heavily
but , no shame .
Certainly no shame
only a false rainbow.

He wrote with a layer
of words underneath
the words that only
she would understand.

She can listen to forever
relative to the quicksand
of the Cosmos.
Born through time
into infinities energy .

A second truth to the wind .

WL Schuett Aug 2019

Fireflies and Lace

She is a hive full of
Sweetness.
But , never far from
the sting .

“I see you “ she smiles
as she touches my face .

Upstairs she lies
with coverlets and curtains.

I am searching
and searching.
But , for what
I’m not sure .

Maybe diamonds
but probably
Fireflies and Lace .

Working towards not
losing my shadow.

My inertia’s held
prisoner
to her beauty
my moral vision
called and questioned.
The death of leaves ,
stranded on the high wire
in the back of beyond.

WL Schuett Jul 2019

Spyglass of Fire

A prisoner of memories
locked in the shallows
of the past .
A true dissenter of the war
on my conscience education.
A burning freight car
keeps haunting my dreams.

A spyglass
destiny of fire .
More energy spent
unlearning than learning.
Living life toiling
in enemy territory.

Sweetly decadent this
flesh and blood woman .
Feminine as lace
lyrical and ferocious,
exquisite and dangerous.
Unintended consequences of
the violence of religion,
a famine of spirituality.
The terrible separation of faith.

The poet ablaze
with the poetry of fire.

The laurel has withered
in the talons of the dove .
The sun rose as they danced
over the renegade landscape.
Nine stones surrounding
the olive branch that’s broken.

Confessions of evil,
lightning and lace .

WL Schuett Jul 2019

Scar Tissue

A crack in the mirror
skewers my reflection.
A world spinning
around me
trying to calm it down.

A fragment of a memory
going nowhere
lacking detail and rhythm.

Hot desert night
candles on the gravestones
A scar on his forehead
in the shape of a cross.

Dreams tattooed with
leaves and whisky.
Razor blades served
with printed instructions.

The worm in the bottle
has magical powers .
Better any day than
a bittersweet message.

Free will a desperate illusion
one which guides our way .
We are all aligned like
the moon and stars
Into the sightless
cruelty of fate .

Standing in the doorway
of the alleyway of fog .
If you ever loved me he cries
show me the shadow
of your mercy .

A vortex lost in the
black hole of shadows.
The place where silence
was born
in the blood of atonement.

Born ****** in the heat
of the heartland.
The prophet rises in the
swirling dust
raises his arms
and screams .

I try to set the
screams to music .