Like a Red Moon,
shining only for a few.
Its light cast down,
for all to see.

Fleeting moments,
Won’t be around much longer.
I guess that’s what we (humans)
Are bound for…

We grow into ourselves,
Wonder why we are here,
Grow old, and set in our ways.
Fall down dead.

Not you Red Moon.
You come out every two decades or so.
Hiding wherever you hide.
I saw you tonight blooming.

Act before it’s too late,
View the nature of the stars.

Not you Red Moon.
You come out every twenty years

The residence we reside in can be a bore…
All we are leaving behind has defiantly been done before.
Friends, acquaintances, relatives are left behind…
Traveling to this distant small town is like pressing rewind.

My past life arbitrarily radiates our oncoming destination.
Vivid, yet vague, memories fill my mind as we arrive in town.
We look down the one lane street as she asks a question.
Much of these replies are flying around.

Old school house, baseball field, and cracked stones come alive.
Passing these often lucid memoirs;
They remind me of a better time once we arrive.
All I want to do is remember…

All I need to do is show her,
But show her my past, and most of all the future.
We don’t know what’s to come around here.
From here to eternity, all we can do is try to mature…

Snow falls to the unseen ground,
Like her pale body once did before me.
She stares at me begging for answers,
How am I to know how her angel wings glow?

(Falling, just like snow)

Your heart feels cold, empty and weathered.
She knows I feel her anxiety creeping up this ***** of pain.
I am in D e n i a l, yet I only hear her endeavor.
We talk violently with a sting of tears and a rough push in vain.

Ice has encased us in this ***** forgotten room,
Along with our sadness, and woe.
Bittersweet feeling in this tomb,
I diligently urge her to let go.

(Falling, falling, just like snow)

Her presence filled the room like an ancient shrine.
Then out of a glimmering crack in the window,
The shimmer hits her beautiful radiant skin,
My Verano, a lovely innuendo.




Her beauty strikes me again and again like the winters breeze.
Yet we both are lost, trying to find the cure to the poison.
Petty comforting words intending to levitate.
She still denies me still, tears in her eyes, and as I get on my knees.

Trying and trying to help her out of this melancholy…
But your heart keeps falling away from mine.

(falling, falling, falling, just like snow)

Me and the telly,
Sat in the room like jelly as my stomach grew smelly,
I and telly (my longtime friend) have had time,
We sit together and have no time to pick the time.

Telly lets me choose what I want to play,
Flipping through endless channels my way,
I sit in the room with telly for hours,
Only to enjoy the glorious controlling superpowers.

Oh and I can’t forget about the little grey remote,
she loves me more and more like a favorite quote,
Her gentleness arouses me to the point,
Of her electric red joint.

Still telly tells me what to do, how to act, what to say…
Telly tells me lies, secrets, truths, and all I can do is pray.
Telly answers my prayers day by day.
All telly can do is keep me happy and gay.

I turned the remote off,
And realizing reality is not what it seems,
Telly shows me views I can never express with words,
But only emotions can deny only to lie.


Yet again, turning off and on again, and again.
Once more, I do not feel like leaving telly.
Me and telly are bros and don’t expect hoes,
after all, I and telly are just average Joes.

Finally, down the hole, and my sanity is at ease,

(slowly now)

down the tube of troubled voices,

down the crawl space of gluttonous noises,

down into my soul that yearns for rapture,

down and slowly moving into that acid pit of nature,

down the uttermost glossy (yet slimy) hole of transition,

down into my gut of learning expedition,

down the hole of false prophesies,

down into my innermost colony of my apologies.

Almost directly down into my grumbling stomach.
Sliding down inside my broken fallen soul,
taken for a reasonable fool, now engaged only in my own scroll.
Dissolving, tumbling, sliding, falling, (the chemical) stops abruptly at its destination.
I feel the numbness of colors take over me in a slow explosion.
Sensation, condensation, formation, fills my skin and bones with longing tranquil paradise.
The chemical has hit my yearning void in this twisting concise surprise…