AT REST



[PLOT:
          on the green / on Cemetery Row]

A stroll
through Carthage stones.:

Gargoyles in grey gloamings
of Autumns
of Winters
of the remains of days
the done-buried
keep secret in rigor mortis  
kiss

the grave
pushing up daisies, the cherished
our cherubs below tombstones
there lays

green tarmac flights
On crucifix runways

Mausoleums with eyes
of pyramids and storms
houses the ravens watching ghosts
from above just ants below,
beneath undulating cotton lakes

Upon the soil and worms and
souls
           mausoleums...

As granite angels mime
upward in prayer
waiting in the weight of the lifeless
wake
    white marbled expressions

The consternation
    of devil may care

None for statues or with halos
the captured hearts in boxes,
coffins / the inmates /
                                Americana gothic gallows

Caustic the silences secretly speak
Life once stories of beams of light
Such vibrant lives afire
(now mere half paragraphs)
in respite /
In unforgiven mires

[On a plot of green
in cemetery row...]

Gargoyles in the mist
these arrested flights

of wish dismissed
of effulgence in life

through the spindle of an hourglass
spider-webs of fog

where I share my path
Here the haunted besides (roaming)
a land of quietude
                 futures devoid yet still turning
The cyclic times
The unlearned
The dreaded cold below
[On a plot of green, Cemetery row...]

Rest will happen
but my spirit is a phoenix

Great flocks of birds
Asphodels

Whilst
taking a stroll...
Past plots of green,
        In cemetery row
How such silences scream :
         the fallen :
death's blanket of snow.

[Carnage. &. Stone.]

THE PROFUNDITY OF SHEEP

I will follow you
and call it love
to the edge and to the ends
of our earthly bed
by your pipers' song
trusting your will with my blindness
because I do not fear
your Love.

Teach me and lead as a shepherd would
my own wisdom bleats
no depth nor words worth hearing
since speech
Belittles the lesson
and removes much meaning

Of the gifts that Love gave.

Pull me forward and away
to awe instead of weep
the heavens in your embrace
where there is no place for doubt
no panic but for the grave…

I trust that I must matter
even as a speck of dust
you carry me through winter
to rainbows
reminding me that

All is Love.

Even as I wallow in the hollows
of no self worth
you mean to me as I'm meant to be
since time was given birth
the golden truth
the Light of you
Though I'm a speck of dust...
Flooding tears upon the eye
no worry
or boundaries
No bleating cries

There is no Falling
when you, my love, are
my every sky.

At Shady Meadows,
Retired senior moments:
Bingo & crosswords.

What’s it now?
You asking?
Use your visual words
What’s that now? Define it
How’s it go —you whining?
Say Cheese!
The visual words not spoken
But scenes you're seen as seemingly broken,
Words that are photogenic, memes not to read
But feel, how mean,
Oceans waves, swells...
Do say it,
digitally tell,
Misspelled with emoji
Have a nice day!
(Wink)
#Giggling in tweeter feeds
Are you Well Liked?
(Have a good following… )

How do we visualize
A word or a scoff ?
Visually seen feelings
Don’t speak but when spoken to,
Knee deep it will be,
Feel me?

What’s it now you’re asking?
Guess we’ll see… oh say…
Can you?
Giggle at Twitter feeds?
# Hehehe.
# The Bird.
#FU hullabaloo. Ciao.

Great loud words from The Word: Hatemonger's propaganda/ masses conditioned at Sunday mass: Faith weaponized./

Siren song: Sheppard: gathers his "flock" for worship: overacting full of words./
False prophets' speaking/ in tongues for Heaven?/

Filthy rich with sin: master of the mansion / on his plantation, ***** down south/ molesting innocents devout./ His money on his mind, he's full of _ words./

Televangelist on HD-4K smart TV, now wide reaching, the preaching, most have bought into   it. Cost? Hollocaust of doubt and lost minds.
Faith now weaponized.../

(Evangelist)

Spring break, Mexico.
Humid nights and "Shots-shots-shots!"
Black eyed Girl gone Wild

Dear old retired dad
As much as I remember him
Demons all (he mostly drinks)
Indentured to the beer
Chasing silver spoon and hippy moons
And Russian bride and friends.
The sound of  defiant silence,
In eyes of a boy who saw you then
On the subject of dedication
Need a bit of re-edifcation.