Odonata , your timing is impeccable
Gracing my window with colorful perfection
Restoring my faith in the human condition
Chasing the Hummers with buzzing emotion
Doubling back to start as if your craving my devotion
Bluedart Skimmer it's getting late , return to your
abode along placid Port Lake
Lie still beside shore with the departure of day and
thank you once again for your enchanting ways* ....

salty bitter sad those drops absorb
me
closed eyes drip
until I taste on my lips
oceans of waves
of  hurt wash
out to sea

In the eye of we the peoples,
    In the overblown blasphemous
Political whirlwind,
    We have dug up Rage:
In the empty theatrical deities
     The idols explode
And spit on the origins of forefathers,
      In love with their own *****
The fountain of verbiage overflowing with
     Truncated quotations,
The people leeches become sharpened
By lies and pockets filled
By industrious rats,
     These juggling ideologies
Play the frustration of the suffering
    Like strings on a stained violin,
     Paradise of caged freedoms,
Stairway of repetitions,
   They paint Messiah over
Their foreheads,
We drink of the fountains
Of bitter water,
We crown the snakes and surprisingly
Ideally we are shocked
To be bitten.
    The fire speaks words of water
And the river ends in a fall,
     Canes and Abels,
Over and over ,
Into the storm we run,
Spinning darkness from light,
     As we drink
We must ask:

Where is the other water?

Maybe because I've always been
*******--
Or unscrewed, I suppose--
In the mental department
Maybe because I know he's a friend
He's just as scared of the world as me
He's not some evil figure
Lurking about at night
Intentionally trying to terrify
He's a man all the same
I don't care what his appearance is
He just tries to hide
Seeking refuge and comfort
Trying to hide his lugubrious mind
He just wants a friend that understands
So he lays under the bed
Or sits in the closet
He doesn't even say a thing
Except "Boo-hoo"
When he hears your life story spoken aloud
By your conscious lips
Or subconscious dream clouds
But what most people don't hear
Is the important half
"Hoo"
They hear boo
And awake and scream
Trying to climb into bed with parents
But Mr. Boogeyman hasn't visited
In a long while
And I'm starting to miss him
Maybe he'll come back tonight
But I'm not afraid of the Boogeyman
Because I've met much worse