The Shot
The Gun
The Bullet
The Fear

Everything is trembling
The Death is near

The awakening
The shock
The confusion
The dread

The sun shines bright
Are you really dead?

Then the conclusion
Then understanding
Then fear is gone
Then this mad grin

The world wakes up
It was just a Dream

How fast fade most pinkest trees
How digits dance 'neath Catalpa breeze
Ignoring last October's deadest death
They arrived on time then took last breaths

Scattered seeds among their foes
Had no need of planting earthen work
As cycles shadow ploughman's dream
The fickle fruitless cherry grows

He rode rough crests over wildest waves
His ship stayed unsunk under skinny toil
His family landed and held holiest hope
Now blossom buds over grassy graves

Darkness darkened darkest health
Metal sheets broke bones full force
Lungs would not get the care of air
But hours still channeled wisdom wealth

She bent the knee for sacred loves
She scraped it on the firmest strife
Her pies nor pulchritude but soul inspired
Now stillness stays beneath starry moves

When bloodiest blood ****** didn't produce
It drained itself from veins and strained
Veiling valleys making mountains make-believe
But sharpest tongue emptiness refused

What meagre maggots worthless worms
Are those of us who never yearn!
We rarely learn to live so well as they
Who gave us genes and grace and days

All I offer oft only when I try and I work
Nothing else can I do nor more can I hope
This most modest shallowest honor to give
Of them in springtime remembering is

Then
The two of us
Thick as thieves

Now
The two of us
Thin as martyrs

colorful paint
on a blue canvas

    runs
    down
    in
   strings

crossing borders
   & languages
flowing into hearts
   & minds

   slowly
      at ease

the bottom end
   of the canvas
   is not
   the end
of the message
          *
          *
          

Why do the most truthfully heartfelt
statements begin with, "I know it's silly, but..."

No. Stomach your apologies so that
the rest of you won't remain
undiscovered. You're a map made of
resignation
with feelings about yourself more
tangled than yarn woven in and around
all your bones.

I want to make brutal honesty the new
fad. Have everyone fall in love with boldness
in words
so that it becomes
therapeutic to hand out paper keys during
conversations
to unlock someone's heart.

Scream out at the top of your lungs,
I WAS A FAKER TILL NOW
and smile
because you know you've never spoken
truer words
and because
nobody knows it.

Honesty has now become your
secret, and it will be the lightest
load you've ever had to bare.