There’s a darkness that crawls within
Seeping through veins
Coursing through limbs

Fury of ten thousand waves
Crashing against the shore
Anger’s rampage and furor to abhor

The strength of invincibility
Masked with pain
Mistaken for strength when it’s rage

Its mission now is to consume the soul
To find the source
And destroy the core

Finding its way
Through its muddy trails
Feeling elated and yet with despair

Looking for something
Bright and serene
Onward it goes to destroy its gleam

The endless travails
Through rocky roads
Leading to places it will erode

At the corner of lies
Amidst valleys of corruption
Straight to the cave of total disruption

Where faith is entombed
And hope is not seen
Right in the street of lost dreams

But deep in the sunset
At a distance a sight
An island of love and wondrous might

Landed to destroy
The Holy contrary of ires
The divine, supreme, blessed fire

The Spirit is there
Tall and bright
Ready to protect the soul’s life

Denying entry
Of that black shadow
That will raise its bow and shoot its arrow

The armor of goodness
Will not go down
And the shield of truth will stand its ground

Dare if you may
To cross the line
The sword of love will slay the malign

Fear and hate
Is what you are
Trying to consume those near and far

You can fight
And you can persist
The soul will have my strength to resist

I am the light
That forever shines
And it will embrace all who are mine

Life is precious
This I’ll save
With every breath till the end of days

Poetic proclivities
or a taste for rhyme
won't make a poet
all of the time

But discussing the subject
revising the plan
makes a prize-winner
from an also-ran

Though I often watched
Many pretty girls
On the street
Walking to and fro
Ravishing, you managed
My undivided
Attention to draw.

So I jumped high
Why?
Because to touch
The sun aimed I!
From the lapse
Mortally wounded
I was about to die.

Aiming at a lamp,
While many a man
Opted to jump
For the ceiling
Bold, I did
A nice thing!

From hibernating in
A long winter
Pining
A brief summer
Is by far better!

“...Uncertain Circumstances”

                  In re John Cornford, 1936

One of the many bad things about being
A fervent Communist organizer is
That pretty soon some other Communists
Organize you

Cataclysm of cataclysms,
The End of ends,
The death of Death,
To hell with Hell.

The Devil and his minions,
The Dead outside the Fold,
Subsumed in Fire,
Truth consuming liars.

Outside the flames,
The Great Relief,
Absence of Pain,
Forgotten Grief.

Cosmos free of all that's fey,
Night consumed by glorious day.

An American weather boy reports the storm
And all its tracks upon a glowing map
A hurricane by shape and scale and form
Roaring northeast through a low-pressure gap

There is nothing beyond holy New York City
Some unexplored land masses, it may be
Lost in the Atlantic (which is blue and pretty)
Where the hurricane will be harmless, you see

With a flip of his hand, they are dismissed:
Nova Scotia and Newfoundland do not exist