A forgotten flower,
once adored, now left to wilt,
lonely and unseen.

When the night is gone
We can sleep safely
Like small children cradled
In a mothers arms.
When there is no more darkness
We will love deeply
Willingly embracing
Like we've never seen harm
When the sea is cleansed
We will trust fully
We will have peace
Like we've never known
When the moon is no more
The hurt and anguish
Of our mothers will be forgotten,
Only smiles will grace
Only love will replace
Only good will remain
In the day of perfection.

Every time life appeared monotonous, a catchy tune would come along and propel my life forward.

Half moon hanging low.
No one gets elated now.
Waiting for full glow.

Winter's yellow hound
snores
bats an ear in sleep
with ancient claws
drool from his gums
pools on his paws
as he yawns
and thaws

Put that perspective, many of us seem unimportant to life. Now, let me just say this: a tree without leaves is unsightly and will not survive.

Machines learn and grow,
Humans falter, lose their way.
AI reigns, we bow and rue.

I can be a wretched fake, in private, intimate performance.

I’m an actress capable of imitating spontaneous pleasure -
by tricks of hesitation, convulsive vocal play and postures.

A mimicry undetectable to an immediate spectator.

"Aww, thank you", I’ll sigh, as if leaving a good party.

“I’ve got a lot of homework to do,” I’ll add, a minute later.

To clear the stage.

The lady of burdens,
she who walks unseen, in darkness,
with stealth and blade.
She comes unsummoned and slices shadow.
She knows only remorse,
cursed always to follow one path.
She slays all things of dissonance,
and is deaf to the songbirds.

What could have saved her from this life?
If only she had turned to see the morning -
light beyond a castor of shadows.