the initial impact
the ruptured vessels
crying crimson
pooling up underneath the surface of your
fragile flesh
soft, breakable unlike the iron
that flows through you

then a swell
of black and blue
of violent violets
a nebula to remind you that you
                                                          are not invincible
                                                          are not invulnerable
                                                          will one day turn to dust,
a star of lost oxygen
tender to the touch

then the healing
a green gradation
yellowed edges
the swelling going down
the knowledge that nothing is permanent        

that even your bruises pale
even your blood decays
even the galaxy imprinted on your skin can explode, collapse,
lost infinitely in infinity

the knowledge that even as you are getting better,
you are fading like the bruise
that once stained your skin

Morpheus has never been kind to me
His somniferous ways leave me wanting
Grasping at the cusp of a reality
As evanescent as the morning mist
That greets this reluctant gaze.

He exists to these sheathed
Bourbon eyes
Within the veiled carapace
Of the only form I've ever wanted more
Than necessity and air.
His torment lies
In false reunions, in joining and parting lips
In forest eyes that linger behind in my thoughts
Like the echo of a cannon
Long after it's wrought its own havoc.

Yes, that twisted Lothario
That Grecian sandman
Exists to overcharge the soul with
Hope so poisonous
Bodies and minds are wracked with it
Inspired by it
Haunted on into the waking world
Where he waits on the periphery
Eyes narrowed in the light
Of the waking world that renders him useless.

dead bodies floating
in our oceans
from the Asian Pacific
to the Mediterranean

crumpled corpses lying
on our beaches
thousands drowned unknown

overcrowded detention centers
not unlike concentration camps
behind barbed wires
guarded by police and snarling dogs

nobody feels responsible

not  those who started wars
destroyed whole cities
made millions homeless
and into refugees

not those who take advantage
of the chaos for their own gain
abusing the names of their gods
or some ancient figurehead
to excuse their atrocities and greed

not those who live
in comfortable homes
and wish the desperate crowds
would just stay on the TV screen
and not come close

nor those who pretend
to be the guardians
of our great humanitarian heritage
but show no backbone
against nationalist fanatics

it is the shame of the world
to sit and talk and watch
and not do enough

those who turn away
the needy and homeless
could also
      quite suddenly
lose their homes

forced to rely
on the kindness of strangers

I saw him kneeling
Saying gibberish of unspoken words
Hiding the tears

Then I saw him fighting
As darkness crept into the gloomy night
Screaming gibberish
Unknown language

He was a sailor
One of those guys who loved the ocean with such bravery and dignity

He was a loner
One of Flander's lovers with golds and coins around his neck

Yet, luck was fading away
As the ship he made destroyed by the storm
All of his men died rotten to dust

While he
he knelt under the stars
Praying, probably

I was just standing in emptiness, watching him and wondering

An old man he was
between madness and nilness

I do not swear because I am
A sweet and sober guy;
I cannot vent a single ****
However hard I try.
And in viruperative way,
Though I recall it well,
I never, never, never say
A naughty word like hell.

To rouse my wrath you need not try,
I'm milder than a lamb;
However you may rile me I
Refuse to say: ******!
In circumstances fury-fraught
My tongue is always civil,
And though you goad me I will not
Consign you to the divvle.

An no, I never, never swear;
Profanity don't pay;
To cuss won't get you anywhere,
(And neither will to pray.)
And so all blasphemy I stem.
When milk of kindness curds:
But though I never utter them -
Gosh! how I know the words.