your sadness is showing,
put it away.
no one wants to see
your depression today.

it's not time for that,
some might say,
its so unbecoming
to act that way.

your anxiety is showing,
tuck it in.
the world shows no interest
in what's under your skin.

take a deep breath,
that's where you begin,
or, that's what they say
with a pat and a grin.

your illness is showing,
keep it away.
no one is interested
in that anyway.

but by letting it fester,
and by letting it stay,
it might make me
disappear some day.

Night in the woods....
Eyelids are resting
Constant motion is at hand
On a starlit night

Gentle winds carry sound
Predators call is noticed
Deep in a forest

Birds are rustling
Alarming others be still
Art of avoidance

A high piercing cry
Death comes swiftly delivered
Instantly over

As light fills the sky
Darkness surrenders its hold
Bringing on the dawn

P.M.D. 1~22~2016

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife:
Nature I loved, and, next to Nature, Art:
I warm'd both hands before the fire of Life;
It sinks; and I am ready to depart.

**** you, Dandelion.
You are a bitter plague.
Your putrid reputation
sows a discording stay.

Your spread your potent seed,
a curse among the others;
how will thy beauty flourish
when murdered is thy mother?

Rose has her vanity,
Daisy has her life;
but you hold a talent
for fertilizing strife.

**** you, Dandelion.
What a pity to be you.
Thy beauty holds no power,
thy talent ruins you.

Tyger Tyger. burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye.
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And watered heaven with their tears:
Did he smile His work to see?
Did he who made the lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?