Hold me like a mother.
Kiss me like a sister.
Teach me like a father.
That I may be your brother.

I awaken to primitive forces,
My hand at her hip,
Like two flawed crystals
With eager flashes
With no grace in morning ***.

The longings drained,
And a hangover settles over noon.

The most uncomfortable peculiarities
Sit in like an unwanted listener,
Like a vagrant flower she eats
Whatever I threw on the table.

And I never knew my ex this well,
Still at least I knew her last name.

Inflated situation with irony
And absurdities between adults
Who for all adulthood are acting
Like nervous teens,
There's to be no encore ***.

"I'll call you"

Was that a question?
I wonder,
I close my door like the saddest clown.

We are soldiers joined in battle.
Fighting a war, fighting a war.
We belong to one healing centre.
Fighting dying, fighting dying.

Tubes
and
needles
are
our
weapons.
Pills
our
defence
against
the
enemy.

The light shines in my eyes.
The bed I am on is comfort.
In my thought processes
are the many situations
I've collected in this life.

It's not been too bad,
this past I review.
There have been
some disappointments.
Not uncommon
nor unexpected.
But the happiness
outweighs
the
tears.
The
melodies
pleasant
to
the
ears.­­

I suppose I am ready
to be with my comrades
in the Armageddon of
this unholy war.

We are champions of pain.
Joining forces, joining forces.
We march in determination.
In our hearts, in our hearts.

Some of us shall fall
in this ongoing struggle.
We
shall
mourn
their
deaths
and
celebrate
their
courage­­.
Carry on beating the
drums of resistance.
Carry on hoping
for victories to be.
And
if
I
join
the
defeated,
if
I
die
before
my
time;
remember­­
that
I
tried
to
float the balloons
in the winds
of flying illusions.
Look for me
in
the
air.

Every now
and then
a
weathered soul
crawls up
from the crevice of the earth
slimy
and
old
ready for the others to see
with profound message  
just jaded enough
for there to be light
in his words

****** cold it was, this February night in Virginia.
Five or six degrees thereabouts with a bit of wind.
Hard to stay warm in the shack,
even with the heat running full blast.
Had to keep the window cracked just a tad in case I dozed.
The sound of the car engines would snap me back to consciousness
as they turned onto the property - the school property.
This is my moonlight gig,
midnight to eight - Saturday and Sundays, seven years now.
No major happenings.
No Taliban attempting a takeover.
No student going over the deep end
from home sickness.
Just an occasional alarm mishap,
or ambulance call for a sick resident.
But this morning was about to change all that.

It was 4:00am and my relief was just turning
the corner at the top of the hill.
It was time for my 30 minute nap at the Security office.
I hated the idea of leaving the shack,
climbing into my cold car and driving, shivering
on my way to some shut-eye,
but it would be worth it because
by 4:00am, I'm a bit buggy
and the thirty minute catnap would revive me til quittin' time.

The security office is located inside the business office,
a two story brick building which handles shipping along with several manager's offices, including Chief of Security.
I arrived, was about to make my way up the stairs
when I decided to check out
the candy dispenser in the small room to the left
on the bottom floor.
I've known it was there for seven years,
but not once in all that time have I altered my immediate
route to the stairs.
Perhaps because my time on these breaks is limited,
and every minute of sleep is precious.
This time, for whatever reason, I changed my routine.
As I was walking towards the candy dispenser,
I noticed a framed photo on the wall.
It was a photo of a gentleman who had worked here for thirty years.
A gentleman who also passed away on the property.
There was writing...thanking him for his service.
I proceeded to the candy and chips...nothing special here
as I suspected.
I then proceeded to the Security office,
pulled up a chair, leaned back and closed my eyes.
Something was different.
In seven years I'd never felt in any way a presence other than my own,
until now.
The old 25 watt lamp on the desk behind me began flickering and making that noise a bulb makes before it goes out...bzzzt...bzzzzt.
To my right was the office door - closed.
I was able to see the light of the hallway in the inch or so of clearance at the bottom. I'm not sure what drew me to look there, but just as I did, a large chunk of the light became blocked from right to left, then back, then back again as if a woman in a long dress or a man in a trench coat was walking back and forth. I tried to convince myself that this was the hallway lights flickering as well, but I knew better.
I mustered enough courage to slowly rise from the chair, which made  an ungodly creek, and walk slowly to the door. I opened it to find no-one there.
I sat back down after turning on the main office lights.
The old saying about the hairs raising on your arms when a spirit is present is true. They were standing straight as soldiers in formation.
I waited about 20 seconds and then began engaging whoever was with me.
'Can I ask your name? Did you work here?'
Before I could ask the next question, the lights went completely out.
I blamed it on the cold until I realized that the rest of the campus still had power.
At this point, curiosity and terror were running neck and neck. I sat motionless in the near pitch darkness for 30 to 45 seconds.
I finally gathered enough wits to speak; 'If you wish me to leave, I will do so, but I ask that you please turn the power back...' before I could finish, the power returned. I did not hesitate to make
my exit. I held my breath until I reached the bottom of the stairs, praying that the lights stay on. The hairs finally returned to their normal state when I reached the shack. George was watching 'Uncut Animal Attacks' and chomping on his giant 711 mug full of ice.
'Thanks, George! see ya tomorrow!'

I returned the next night, video recorder in hand and captured what I believe were the words of Jane Kyle -  'The Shrew of Foxcroft'

Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Thirty-five years to find just fifty
Thirty-five years to find those fifty
What did our government due
  
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Do the math, it's just plain silly
Thirty-five years to find the fifty
Give the government its due
  
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
You can't feel anymore.  Safer?
When government gets us *******
  
They need a lot more time now
They need a lot more time now
Three point seven million years
To catch the other bad guys
  
They sit in their disguises
In a robe on courtroom benches
With their lawyer clad-ed henchmen
They sit in their disguises
  
Can you call up the police now?
Can you call up the police now?
The Chief is sitting quietly
Protecting family ties
  
Anybody out there?  Save us!
Anybody out there?  Save us!
Save our country, save our babies
Give us mob free lives
  
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Forty-seven years of mobster torment
Fifty years I've no enjoyment
I may as well just die

I transform
Each time
You read me
~
I am alive

A speck of paradise
A miracle abandoned
Only waiting for the clouds to change to gray
Hanging in those dark untitled spaces
Her petals are a useless perfection
Her poetry a moonlit someday

A messy galaxy
A teardrop infinity
Grace doesn't paint amorous feelings
On headaches in the space under the bed
Her flower blooms a bruise
Her worlds are dying words