I was on a ship in the dead of night,
The sky black with tiny sparkles
And un-named constellations,
For a long time I stood staring
At the night sky and sometimes
At the blackened dark sea.
I gathered my imagination
And made shapes of all sizes and kinds.
I had visions of lovers reaching
But never quite touching;
I saw the mercy of a man and his
Dog in the woods finding
A lost child.
And suddenly in the darkness
All alone I heard the ocean make
A hiccup, a small fish I glimpsed
Under the moonlight.
Suddenly I realised the fish was making
Constellations too,
In his own world
In the sea making shapes as well.
And when I searched the sea
Once again, I swear
I could almost see the fish swimming
Through the stars
And through the moon,
And the reflection of the sea
Was a galaxy all its own.

And where is your life
After you have faked death?
(I can hear the whispers)
I send myself notes to find
And surprise myself with.

Even though I lost my friends,
Even though I am just a shadow
Of my former self,
Suddenly here in the mist
I see them all nameless.
And in the mist where madmen
Believe in dreams and scare
Away hapless prayers,
Suddenly I cant tell if my
Arrogance was elegant
Or simply a fools sacrament.

Perhaps-maybe
I will pulled the switch
At my own execution and stand here
Alone searching for love
Among the thorns,
Alive but Ded,
And maybe someone will give
A **** enough to stop me
From further looking like
The insane narcissistic man
I believe myself to be.

Still I feel compelled to teach
A parrot a badword or two,
Never again will anyone mourn
Over me,
Sad because the tears brought me
Such a sorrowful joy.

Before the fog aligns itself
To clog the vision behind your mask,
Before the death of life clouded
Your trust in the Heavens,
Before the desolate wave of sadness
Clouded the very star that guided you,
Before the savage tears you shed
When the lie killed your truth,
Before the door closed in the night
And you drowned in the silence,

You left behind a fleeting light
That was created nust for you,
But as darkness falls the words
That were like children,
The days that were like
A thousand lakes under the sun,
The words that scattered like
Light through the crystal memory,
Came forth a boundless vacancy.

And the night is torn apart,
Deep into the hours where
Memory and names do not matter,
When it seems the hope has sailed forever,
The words will echo deep
Into the mind and eternal
Poetry will be born unto thee
The death of the present will
Be owed to the loss of who you once were....

I slow to a yellow crawl,
I watch the meadows filled
With bloodstained roses,
Beneath crystalline eyelids
I see the fire burns in all directions.

I rush a rush to nowhere,
Everywhere standing still.
I yearn to claw the sky black,
I speak in a the archaic language,
The sorrow understands.

I come forth by action
And spew tattered verses,
I sleep in the blood of dreams
And awaken in secular ******,
Alone with everyone.

The curtain closes on my being,
Neither here or there,
My steps like an echo
Chasing my future steps;
Only the words to me are real.

Did I win or lose?
Perhaps-maybe nature won.
One less spin cycle,
Gallons of life water saved.
In my intellectual hemitage
I find a difference can be made,
Oh underwear,
Spirit of nature,
First I wear you proper,
And the day is good.
I walk forward into the morrow
And turn the world backwards.
Yes the tag now goes to front,
And wedgies aside, all is well.
In the instantaneous moment
Ina departure of normalities,
Confronted with a bundle of reflections,
I move into day three,
Inside out.
The days have dispersed,
I wreak of the third day,
Still a difference has been made.
I take off the underwear,
Crispy and tainted,
With a lump in my throat
And a little hope I made a difference,
The underwear is sacrificed to the hamper.

Heavenly body,
Unseen like the unwritten,
Unkissed like the eclipse,
Down the pit of the universe....

There is a person here,
Alone in their sorrow,
Wishing on bright lights
And stuttering prayers,
They are alone in a dark
Few can see,
Alone in a way where no one
Can understand.

They opened the eyelids of the stars
And found there a lonely star,
Without beginning,
        Without end,
Without planets,
Without any friends.

And here a lonely heart does wish,
The star unseen like scripture
Cracked on a tablet of stone,
They have branded a star,
With a darkness so bright,
It matches the sadness in the heart.

When summer came in 98'
And the eyes of the momentary
Eternal swam into the Canyon Lake,
It was then the sway of skin
Took me to the place hungry eyes
And kids seeking stimulation went
To cool themselves off.

Under sky bright
I saw her with hips of light,
A second beer and I was grown
Into a man worthy of any woman.
No adults with experience
To guide my ill advised tactic.

A smack on the ***.

At first she turned in complete anger,
Her curves had stiffened her body,
Combat mode and my buddies
Giggling in the backround.
I saw her beautifully frightful hand,
Her slap before we met eyes,
It was mighty and meaningful,
But when I turned from the wallop
To my face,
We met eyes once again,
The most timid of smiles
And a soft apology from me.
She smiled and slapped me once agin,
It was then I knew....
It was then I knew.

.....Lo, forth I do march,
Hell's scorch fuels the ascendancy
Into solemn inner battle amongst
Myselves,
I am a poem at war with words,
The pen a bride like some spectral
Verbiage- luminosity antagonisong
The swell of ferocity, I do cling
As the audascious hope gathers its wounds
And scatters like petals in the furious winds,
The forbearance of that knife
Wielded within the self,
Self against self,
The battle rages against the heart,
Against the mind,
Down to the very soul!

In the craftmans tomb,
A poem floods the inner sanctum
And the march forward seems
Like a depression plowing
The fields of memory,
Oh what dreams may come
May also haunt.

And one drops many a word,
The war inside like flock
Of crows into the blinding light,
I still here could not give in,
The soul still battles its flesh....

She is the last of her
Frailty, that shadow
Of girl interrupted,

The whole of her burned
Like a great scar on a heart
She once knew.

The anamolous woman
In another world,
A woman used and left behind,

Though one cannot recognise
Her face, through her
Demeanor she tells of another life.

And she declared war
With a ravenous intention
On building great walls,
Insurmountable

And with no doors
She leaves but a window
For him to find
And glimpse what she guards.

He will fall for her
And break like water against
The rock,
The jagged rock never smoothened

And the walls will shake
At the oscillating moment,
She will see a silhouette of frail
And timid creature,

She will sedate the emotion
And the walls will grow taller,
The embodiment of independence
In a story lost to the pain,

She will walk the earth
In a stir of echoes past,
The walls shimmering dark glow,
And the woman scorned does roam.

So Im alive,
But I died a little inside.
Because I am dead
And now alive and reborn
Into a thousand words never written,
I will become no one again.
Did you metaphorically cry?
Sad as thinking how well
You truly knew me?

" But we were poets!"

And so you live and die by the
Stroke of the passionate lie
That are the words that well
Up inside like a brutal indignity,
Outraged at my shamelessness
Did I ever truly puncture your heart?
I am Ded inside,
And I dont know you,
But I just love your poetry!

So we sever the ties from reality
And divorce the facts
In a hopeful serenade to the deaf,
See how I magnify the ignorance
With brazeness?
Such splendid grandoisity!
And a poem is just a word,
There is no poem without action.
I am me,
No metaphor needed,
Just who the hell do you think
You are?