I will always be
that enemy
to myself.

Of loud mind
-Restless-
Of unsound habits.

An anthill scratching
at boiling blood , a
fractious, migrained, timpani
taking high- speed bends
on ruptured grips

My surface slipping
ever outwards.

I found myself smiling,
a telescope finding my
own private Jupiter
cooped in the noose
of a bulb

Yes,
its stupid to measure in hope-
-  this I know
but I’m told it's the last
thing to die....

So why would
I sully such luminary
wisdom...

.. . In  kingdoms of
merciless churches I find
myself smiling

  ...the search is still on
for a cause to believe in

but I shall be biding
my time.

It was years ago , A fellow writer who felt it was there duty in life to judge others wrote me.

Dear John

I have read a few of your works and believe someone needs to tell you to save you the embarrassment .

Your antics are not talent your
words are muddled at best .
And your gutter sense of humor is childish and truly a embarrassment to us serious writers.

You should probably seek out a workshop or look to your fellow writers for some tips or maybe just stop writing altogether .

I read the message and laughed .
I have over thirty works in publication and far more on the way .

Opinions are like *******.

And to that writer I shall leave unnamed .

Who's words fall flat on the sidewalk like a **** from a mongrel dogs ***.

Hope your doing well.
I never listened then and I **** sure am not listening now.

When you hand out advice you better make **** sure your standing on solid ground before you cast a opinion

Keep writing is all I can tell you .

Through the rejections and the people that tell you to give up .

You will pass them all by eventually.

******* are not a dying breed.

Cheers

Gonz

In dying day
we trust dismay
Like scent of edible death,
it marks the forlorn path
that marks the traveler
that marks the soul
that feeds the beast.

I cry upon the balustrade
I climb the walls
assail the roof!
I cling to hope and tidings sweet...
but hope, she fades away

In misty day
haze thick with ire
like defiling spear
it pierces the shepherd
who ushers the flock
who bicker and bark
who worship the beast.

I thirst 'pon fetid ocean
amidst mustard fog
oar strokes batter the brine
frost clogs the air, my freedom, my heart
while the sun hides his face for shame of the world
every other face is a mask, and beneath it a mask
their truths are lies and their confessions are lies
so I brave the ocean, seeking her wholesome face
Her voice is the bedrock of countless miracles.
I peer into the cloud that hugs the sea
her face smiles in the obscurity
I reach out to touch her visage
but hope, she fades away.

For years I sought her company
I wished for odes to reveal
the residence of her testimony
Her word would defend, like steel!

Yet when I finally found her,
my grasp bound death's door
I realized I was the hope
that no one will know anymore.

As hope, I fade away.

Blue jean pajamas
Dreams of the moon
Bare skin morning
Awake before the sunrise

I've developed a taste for dawn
A craving for silence
Time before time begins
A conversation with my soul
Love begins here

Senses pour in the alone
Alone is where I find myself
Rain of thoughts more powerful than the heard
Questions of the forgotten
I am forgotten

Sun fills in the cracks of yesterday
Illuminating chance
Whispers upon the wings of robins
The search continues

there will only be two things that will happen to you:

either you end up in my poems of heartbreak, remorse, and sadness,
or,
you end up beside me with my hand in yours.