Today's your day

Breathe in that air

**Invoke a sensation

In the dust of days
Where ancient seabeds dry
Ghosts of children play
And rarely wet their eyes

In wild deserts barren
Blind to life and time
Hearts continue tearing
But never you mind

In the depths of dreams
Forests full of gifts
Bursting at the seams
Ripping little rifts

In the horrid screams
The beauty of a sound
What does all this mean?
We all come to ground

In the flesh of words
Lies an empty whoosh
As of baby birds
Upon initial push

In the cornered beast
Something stirs awake
This something is the least
Still not for us to take

In the present dawn
The promises of dusk
Wafting from the lawn
A dank and pungent musk

In the flow of blood
An incessant calling
The roaring of this flood
And all that it is hauling

In the grasp of life
In the dust of days
In the curse of strife
A benediction lays

In the seabeds dry
In the loamy gainful ground
Children wet their eyes
It all comes around

In the depths of of dreams
In the funeral mounds
The eyes of lovers gleam
Please don't make a sound

In the raptured haze
In this collective mess
In a raptors violent gaze
The final sweet caress

.
                                "The Com
                               minists  dis
                             dain   to    con
                            ceal their views
                           and  aims.   They
                            openly  declare
                            that their  ends
                            can be attained
                            only by  the for
                            cible overthrow
                            of   all   existing
                            social condition
                            s. Let the ruling
                            classes  tremble
                   ­         at a  Communist
                            revolution.  The
       ­    proletarians have nothing to lose
          but their  chains.  They     have    a
           world  to  win.    Working men of
              of all coun           tries,      unite!"

You creep, crawl and scuttle
Piloting drunkenly through my lamp shapes
Aimlessly, it seems, in search of shelter
Shell in shield shape, legs of prickle
I know your vast numbered presence harbors one of two meanings:
Spring has given life anew
               Or
*Winter is coming

the cover said much
Abstract in its thought
but not very helpful

Thirteen, maybe fourteen?
I hear my step dad say the cause of **** is a woman's clothing
Eleven, maybe twelve?
I'm on the ground
The voices all around me don't hear my cries
I wish I'd die.
Nine, maybe ten?
I wake up alone and run to the neighbors
My daddy has been drinking again
He makes excuses
None of which I believe
But I smile and nod
What he doesn't know
Is his words make me bleed
Seven, maybe eight?
I never knew why I made the call to my mother that morning
About the beer cap I found in the chair
Until now
After all, it was just one, right?

Lubricating life with
pure love
doth remove
rust from the heart.