I've been gone
for long
thinking about tales
living lies
aches

I've brought you stories
of
escalating hurt
unspoken words
transparent shadows

bear with me
while I shade some of these
bare truths

us humans
who love to see the desperate
cling to these fragile life

us humans
who've grown used to horror
you think there is no other way

us humans
who seek freedom
to commit mistakes,
sometimes we don't have a choice
and sometimes we do

us humans
extremely, afraid of death
who do you turn to
when the night is at its darkest

rained heavy on the forlorn
white stone

April dusk had stood still
on deserted lane

iron gate to the lawn
showed mossed sleepy graves

tiptoed on the overgrown grass
for epitaph hard to read

Expect great things from God
opened eyes to more widely catch

Attempt great things for God
couldn't ruin it the ravage of years

outside tombstone waited a world
in the drizzle echoed the missionary's deathless sermon.

Lazy afternoon rays shaft
     Through Spring's full trees;
The wind cuts laterally
     Leaving the sea.
Through deck lattice
     The grass weaves
A tartan plaid.

     Electric lines,
     Chimney tops,
     Blossoming crops.

I hold out my hands,
Stringing fingers
Through thinning hair.

The artisan
Wove and weaves.
This is the basket,
The rug,
My coat.
Entwine our fingers;
Weave a basket.
Collect your thoughts.

I've dropped this Cubica today,
as often as I've dropped my heart
when I pick up the two pieces of
a broken pen, ***** them back together,
it still works
filling my lungs with vaporous poison
knowing it will eventually **** me,
I pit it against my lips and **** on it
like a straw till it blows sunshine
out of my *ss,
just what he would call a magnifying glass,
of  perspective poetry,
inhalant on course
defying destiny.
Hopefully,
seventy playgirl virgins
will soothe
that remorse,
at the very least a sepharad
of simpatico
with silly  smoking mortals
still whispering of genius.

My heart shouldn’t have profusely bled
I saw her face only once
a moment’s crossing in a moment paid
not meant for a second chance!

The fire shouldn’t have leapt in me
she was a doomed emotion
trying to live in my penned poetry
meant to be only a notion!

My mind shouldn’t have imprisoned her
caged her from one mere glance
lived the phantom of an absurd affair
spilled ink in a mad trance!

I shouldn’t have sought her anymore
searched in the wild her trace
she couldn’t be my paramour
I saw from the crowd her face!

This poem is being edited
From all the wrongs you read
The mistakes I've made along the way
Are not for the eyes to see

There are words that lose all their meaning
Turning misspelling into an art
Or the flow don't go the way it's suppose
Because of misplaced punctuation! marks

And I too often rely on spell check
To move my poems along
Which can turn my enemy into enema
I guess that's not too far off

There's so much more to poetry these days
Than running out of thoughts and ink
And me with only half a brain
It takes twice as much time to think

So while this poem is being edited
Please sit back and relax
If you see any mistakes that I have made
Speak up now cause here's your chance

with each word
the hands wind down
with each letter
the second hand clicks over
moving inexhorably toward my
demise

each exclam and period
punctuate the fact that i am
indeed
dying

every comma digs my grave


ah! but when i go
i shall die a poet's death
i will write about it
every syllable

and i will not be
a light bulb that just sparks out

I WILL BE AS A STAR GOING NOVA*


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(c) 6/11/2015