Building an inferno
Is a part time occupation
Finding retribution
Is a pleasant moment's pastime
Marrying the two takes more
Than just a pastor

Zeus is back from his vacation
And he wants a glass of water.

When the whispering demons of the morning come calling
When silly , robotic thespians deliver their scripted theatrics with slow motion , foggy angles of the world as rivers of window condensation and sorrow are falling                                                          ­                                                                 ­    Be watchful for songbirds are connected with the mill pond , see the dove at peace with bobwhite songs
Be assured that the wind , the rain and the hardwoods
share pain while celebrating the whim of a cold , methodical yet temporary Earth

Hello poetry,
Have you come to whisk me away into another fantasy
Float me down the river of another memory
Guide me into an abyss, searching for my sanity
Remove me from this place, drifting from gravity

I shut my eyes, let out my hand and let poetry do away with me.

In my dreams, I can feel you peel off my clinging clothes
And the heat from your fingers scorches down to my bones.
With muddy eyes, I see only darkness and blurry silhouettes
Yet it’s so easy for our wandering lips to connect,
You spit down into my spirit and it turns to mist.
Our bodies dance inside of bliss, carefully we move and twist
For our passion can be slippery when wet;
And neither of us intends to fall, deeper, into this pit.

-SLuR

She seems strong - so she speaks,
She seems alive with life complete.
She shrugs a shoulder, couldn't care,
Love is war, a life's  dare,
She has loved and seen it go,
Love wilt in the midst of snow...
But say goodbye, gently, if you will,
Her heart is warm, fragile still.

She has laughed and she has smiled,
Dreamed enchantment on an isle.
She has risen,  heights soared,
She has seen closed doors.
She has fallen, again, to stand,
Dreamed a dream in never land...
But tread softly, on her, if you will,
Her dreams are young, fragile still.

She has seen loss and pain,
Prayers lost,  hopes slain.
Her heart in hands, she has wept,
Tired and weary, troubled, slept.
Transience is eternal, well she knows,
But her heart stronger never grows...
Break her  gently, if you will.
Her heart is tender and fragile still.

chain smoking on the balcony with a Buddhist monk
not sure how i got here or where he is from
he talks about honesty and compassion and faith
and the girl that he married, that incredible earthquake
he looks at me and asks where i want to go
i tell him to tomorrow, and after that who knows
with a sigh and a smile he ashes and says
you keep living for tomorrow and eventually you're dead