The moon beams glistens and bounces off the cold gray tomb stones
I glide silently between them, I let out a few soft moans

The moon's so bright it throws shadows off all the leafless trees
Their bony fingers reach out and dance in the breeze
At every stone I carefully read each name and date at either end of the dashes

Everyone of them, their lives where nothing more than flashes
Like the flickering flame of the lanterns glow
Their life away from them just flowed

My midnight stroll was almost over
Knowing they where all at peace under that cover of clover
I looked on their last resting place with wistful eyes
This feeling of wanting couldn't be disguised

As the wind whistles and dies
The north wind crys
A cold chill runs through my spirit
Voices surround me, although I don't want to hear it

For I'm just a vapor, a mist
Miserable in life I slit my wrist
Now I'm a simple ghost
More restless than most

I lift my head to watch the midnight flight of the raven
I feel so cheated, death did not even offer me a safe haven
Death would not let me lay peaceful in the ground
But pointed it's bony finger, and said "go roam around"

Sadness is still my existence, just a different plain
Still the same old sharp dull pain
I'm a restless ghost, flames being held to my feet
Now when you catch sight of me among the stones you'll know why I weep
Because for me there will never be that eternal sleep

I’m lost.
Inside a conversation
With a ghost,
Who keeps a case of beer,
On my back porch,
Year round.


I struggle.
With his take,
On things.
At best, he says, you perish in a fury,
His mouth a fresh full fill,
Raw oysters topped on spice baked kelp.

I wait.
To hear the worst.
His pause is theatre 101,
All fog and drama,
Ephemeral guest,
Sweet mist and ****.

I lean.
Against our red rose sun,
The window warm from spring to fall,
My back porch home a hobby now,
The worst he says, in adagio,
Is drudgery, no end at all.

Within this colossal concrete tomb
the shadows of the workers loom
their vanquished voices engulf the night
for few have knowledge of their plight
some fell to their death
while the walls were poured
their screams unheard
as the mixture roared
some walked this oasis
before the white man's hand
bloodied the soil
and defiled the land
they acknowledged the spirits
and respected the earth
then fell to the edict
and their ruler's mirth
within these walls of needless death
where souls remain forlorn
the cries of many will tear your heart
should you stay to hear them mourn

Inspired by the 'Ghosthunters'episode: Flooded Souls

Once I used to drink
with this girl who told me
we could live on an island
if I never touched her

she had this way with words

sit at the foot of my bed
she said, like a ghost

watching the boat in the cove
lose hope for its shadow

these days she hides
behind the shades
still wanting me to find her

somebody to love.

I once was in a place I loved
but left. Let me tell you why.

Friend, I won't give you any of this ****
about vision quests or fields to plow.

I just ran out of patience and time.
And reasons for staying. Anyhow.

That beautiful ghost of a woman
of mine said I don't love you, BOO.
And I was gone. So long.

My heart froze solid
like the cold ground I sleep on.

The moon wades the sea
and lifts his curved blade

to cut loose the tide
tied to the shore

and it's high time I listen
for the secret word

that tells me to turn
out the light and go home.

I like old glass
with bubbles

Pockets of breath
of the dead laid to rest

I break and I breathe and I taste

Their spices
and vices

Kisses from wives
Curses and verses

Songs of themselves
Wine of their wrath

Salt from their baths

Smoke from their fires
Sweet tastes of desire

Shared sighs and cries
Dead butterflies

Air.

When the dark days come
and a man searches
for high ground

like a lost explorer,
a man going nowhere,

a wanderer with no ballad,

a man who dreams
to the beat of the dark
night's drum

playing light
of the moon, yet
out of tune

like the gloom only a poet
feels alone in a cold room.