A man once told me that to move a grain of sand was to change the world.

So I went to the shore and procured my grain

A truly tiny thing
Yet packed with promise
Clutching it tightly to my breast

I sped,
In search of

Far
and her companion
Away

Fully exploring the depths
of
Hither
and
Thither

Those dark nights attempted
To set my will
A wither

But

I would look upon my tiny grain
Its edges rounded
Recording the
miles long forgotten

Then, with determination
Like a grain
Of sand
I set out anew.

Lured by a promise of arriving
On some distant shore
And laying my grain to rest
Where the sun sets

Nevermore

Have you felt its bite?

The terrible

Horrendous

Ever-opening

Maw that
Threatens to
Devour all my

Certainty.

It gorges upon all that is
Bright.
Black breath flows
Over me
A
Blight
that saps my strength

My soul yearns to take flight!

Yet here i remain
Paralyzed by the
Gaze of this unrelenting
Beast,
Doubt.

Will there be
Restoration?
Can i hope for
Resuscitation?

Or is my yearning
Merely the
Death throes of
Passion

Burning

Burning

Burning

Out like a
Candle
Lit dinner?  

It shall not
Come from you,
Romance.

You rose-colored
Vagabond.
Food for the maidens
Dream.
Despoiler of my
self
esteem.

i require another
To sustain
Me.

i know it can
Be found.
One who can
Remove this yoke
From me.

Who can vanquish this doubt?

Who shall turn my discordant
notes
of Sin
Into a sinphony?

He is the
One

That will catch my boulder
As it threatens to crush
Me
At the bottom of this
Hill.

So come to me!

i haven’t the strength to yell.

If you can hear
Then
You are
Well acquainted with
My
Bones
Breaking.

i am not
Strong.

Of this i
know
For the wilting of the
Lily
Told me
so.

Down I fall
Into the
Deep
Deep
Deep
Of restlessness.

In vain I shall
Try to encapsulate you!
To bind you with word
Or phrase
And keep thee
Until the end of
Days.

Vainly I will try
To plant you
Deep

Down

Within this
Restorative Earth.


Untended

These thoughts’
They grow.

Blooming spectacularly
Into
Hopes
Dreams
Intentions

So deep
Down
Down
Down
I shall
Fall       
Into this             
Soil,
The root of
It
All.           
          
Passions    
Boil  ­     
Waylaying my spirit         
With
turmoil .
I shall watch you

Grow
Grow
Grow

And I
Shall
Rest
On Your
Blossoms.
The shade
of your
Great leaves
Will
            Cover
                       Me

I can feel it again
the Shuddering.
The melancholy
clouds of this
Poet’s depression
seem to smother
Me.

Death where is your sting?
I can’t feel it through this iron-clad
Apathy.

Thoughts race like unrestricted
Shadows.
Guilt
Fear
Anger
Mistrust

My long winded bedfellows
Their stench comes long
Before three days
This should be good news

God ******* ******!

Why am I on the floor again?
Sobbing
Chest heaving
Lungs burning
Throat sore?



                           Or is this just in my head too?

Of course, you’re a man
Strong backed and even
Stronger willed
Stand tall and firm
Steel yourself.

I shall steal myself
Away.

I know so little
And
Feel even less.
So I’m left
sitting here


                  shuddering.

And…
The farms are
becoming housing
Developments.

Farewell
to the
Amber waves of grain.
How long
shall liberty still
rain?

Is the well
spring of opportunity
going to become
dry?
Will it
leave us
poor
wretches
to die?

Dear Columbia
I beg of thee
Do not turn
your glorious face from
me!

This is what the old heads say.
“You must learn you make your way!”
Broken memories of D-day
or the Mai Kong
haunting like spectres
or a beautiful
song.
Staccato maxims,
like bullets,
sing a ******
truth
as they pierce
the red-hot idealism
of
youth.

So do not forsake me,
dear Columbia.
I,
your broken son,
stand before you
blinded
by the future
you promised.
This night is
illuminated by those
burning Amber waves.

And…
the farms are
becoming housing
Developments.