My eyes, throbbing with agony,
bore through the window,  
desperately seeking the freedom of sky.  

To my surprise the crabapple tree  
possessed joyous magenta flowers,  
providing an unexpected  
jubilant assault of my mind.  

Lush leafy erratic branches,  
a turmoil of spring beauty  
stood in striking empathy of my silent cries.  

The afternoon sun pales the majesty of magenta.
As only love can pale agony.  
Memories live forever, is a haunting horrible lie.  
Unlike me, those magenta flowers don't need a why....

My love for her will never die.  
The majesty of those magenta flowers,  
if only for a moment, seizes and saves me deep inside.

There was a lurid green sheen  
to the ancient creek.  
Sweetly haunted by  
the secret summer reflections
of the leaves.  
The sunbeams form brilliant white ripples
on the surface of the cool languid water.  
What a perfect location for peace to loiter.  
The gliding geese pepper the creek,
a visual feast of their natural pageantry.  
I decided to just be.  
In the moment.  
In the immediate journey.
Let past and future worries flee.

Looking at the explosion clouds.
There is a complete void of sound.
The September trees
are diminishing green,
in their lazy lean.
We are not just alive,
to satisfy hungers.
To examine bruised blunders.
Nature satisfies us too.
Bombs of peace in a sky cornflower blue.

Fear has unraveled its roots,
in the dank soil of my soul.
This shadowed unknown agony,
lurks the dark country of my heart.
In places I would never dare go.  
A starless womb,  
from which black embryos of horror,
will be born.  

I launch prayers to the angels,  
but hell's laughter is wicked and loud.  

Dread.
Worse than being dead.

Time has been unforgiving
to my mortal wounds.
My soul lay exposed
beneath a bone white moon.
Contemplation at the day's end.
Is time a formidable opponent
or a faithful friend?
When will it be our time?
Will a ladder to eternity
be there to climb?
Who will read my final rhyme?
We waste our days,
in a grossly over thought maze.
You may cherish a memory
Were you even present or
did your attention flee?
We are told the now
is where happiness resides
The abysmal past
is our usual alibi.
In relentless pursuit
of the elusive why.
Be present before you erode
and die.

The jagged pieces congealed to a thick solid numbness.
My heart became a frozen iceberg to what you casually confess.
Bone white, splattered in moonlight, it now protrudes
in the motionless black onyx ocean of my soul.
Desperate to absorb the solace the glowing darkness eludes.
Yet alone, I shiver with the ice of your truths.

Who you want
may very well not want you.
Why is it we covet so, the shineless promises,
warning signs of the cold blatant truth.
A dull fact, you were never mine.
I chase the unrequited with my neurons of denial.

The blood red vibrant buds on the trees ignite
in a chaotic emergence against the pale blue sky.
The infant spring sheen of the warm sun,
beckons my mind into a garden of oblivion.
Heavy thoughts are lost to the miniature whistles
of the happy house finch.
Breeze sweeps crumbs of dreams that were never clinched.
Penetrating the soul's rich soil
are fresh buds of ideas that have remained loyal.
Before blossoms burst, my black dirt voraciously thirsts.
And then joyous daffodils destroy winter's curse.