Three decades
Lost in this maze
Of dirt road
Clay and grated soil
Underneath
Grandpa's Oaks
Branches hang over us
Like the arms of Ghosts
The unknown parts in between
The cities and towns
With names not large enough to
Fit on maps
Another microcosm
Of sociological problems
The constant chaos of
Lives crashing into each other
At speeds history
Has never
Seen

Wrinkles and scars
are medals
won for valor
in the thousand
private battles
we call a lifetime.
  ~mce

The sirens are singing such violent songs, signaling that once again I have done wrong. My mind has been breached, my shores are not calm, but what can I do to silence their calls? They speak in poetry, metaphors for the harm that I've caused, and I can't understand their verse. My ears hear their words but my thoughts refuse to follow along. My actions show that I have not learned a single **** truth from the last time that I was burned, and all I can think is how good it would feel, to be fire again and know that I am real. I can create but I cannot touch the realities, yet when it comes to destruction I can ruin with comfort and ease, I **** every piece of the world that I see

Somewhere in this city,
an old woman lies dying of
                                   life.
Her mind dances across years.
She half remembers young lovers
deep and hard inside her
and she gasps.
                        Her grey hair
becomes once more
a lustrous black pool.
She smiles and shudders
a tremor of pure pleasure,
gasps again and smiles
her way fearlessly towards
                                   death.

  ~mce

there is no sound
hasn't been for eight days, now
and the hallow silence catches all my words before they can reach maturity

i have music playing in my head,
but i can't hear it
i have music playing in my head,
but it's more of a feeling than a song
it has no melody, or lyrics
it has no beat
no life
but it's there

cobblestones run beneath the feet of horses
and large wooden wheels
turning and grinding
but still, i hear nothing

i watch the woman whose walk reminds me of a train
as she pulls out a pistol and shoots at a nearby street sign
then drops to her knees,
attempting to cry

the silence is killing me
and i wish i could hear myself screaming
but it seems this is the final stop
and i'm just glad i don't have that far to walk

The terracotta shines in the westerly sun
when the man and the woman
fly on the temple courtyard
on the wings of time.

She touches the sculptured kiss
He stares at the ample breast
She blushes at the frozen mount
He awes at the curve and crest
She feels a longing to be his
He wishes seizing her for a kiss.

Shadows grow long on the burnt clays,

time to go separate ways.