The blood drips linger
afraid to leave the bastion of grace
that sustained them
fibres stretched and pulled
to the brink of profanity
sweat refused
clinging until raised as vapors to the sky
a piercing shriek of a quartz tip entered
somehow sliently
parting flesh from flesh
meat from bone and bitter liquid poured forth
searing a river of flesh devouring agony
a slight reprieve offered nothing but
the biting cold of sullied mead
poured mercilessly upon the lips of truth
to add irrevent pain upon excruciating reverence
the clouds gathered
the ground swelled up and shook
the cracks of the whip deafened
by the thunderous
proclamation
thus it was done
and hope sat in stunned silence
the endless wait began
as the blood drips lingered afraid to touch the sand

The day time collapsed
Between my toes

I picked it out
With horned nails
And rolled a ball
To flick.

Time you slime
And mess big nose,
Inhibit breath.

You work for me,
Time

I shall not bow
You advocate of death

I spit on space
And defy the
Lack of power in
My.........

I was not the original son
A first page
A number one
I was always the period
At the end
The quotation marks
That were left undone

I was the pause
That separates
That feeling you get
That you came too late
The one who stood
outside the door
When inside were passed
Out the fates

So I've come
To walk around
Those now living in the ground
Where in the dark there is no light
None to much to talk about
Just my breath the only sound

I have come here
To settle down
Upon this space
My hallowed ground
My favorite stone
upon which I sit
Beside the ties they left unbound

With the Dead
I hold my court
There are no groans
They don't exhort
The chase is done
The horns have sounded
Hark the chords of a la mort

Until dawn
A captive audience
I hold down
My midnight's deviance
Until first light
Threatens with
Complete radiance

My Caesar and my Empire have I served,
A diplomatic functionary, true
To distant duties, and never unnerved
By greedy Greek or perfidious Jew

Outside the arca archa have I thought,
Festooned my desk and office with awards;
My Caesar’s honour only have I sought
While sparing for myself but few rewards

I built with focused care my resume’
And filed each memorandum, note, and scrip;
I justly ruled (no matter what they say),
And seldom sent men to the cross or whip

But, oh! That thing about an open vault –
I never got it.  And why was that my fault?

How my soul longs to hold

such poetic pearls within its atmosphere

To be free at will,

to cast them on to the masses

as some psudo manna from heaven

Hung on some ethereal frequency

Where  the lost wander aimlessly

Waiting for the Glistening words

To breathe new life into a phoenix

Rising from the ashes

In a sea of coalesced stars

To enrich my own.