There is a road
a narrow path
with darkness ahead
darkness behind
flashing memories disappearing
neon traces trailing.

The seekers of wisdom
a flash light in hand
darkness ahead
a Diogenes searching
for
wisdom and a wise one
knowing
this way lies madness
that way lives love.
Behind is birth
Ahead is death.

Pitfalls
Skyways
through the sinkholes
the marshes
deserts
the mountains
the ocean too.

Periods of walking alone
Periods of walking with you
Blindness fills our eyes
the dark it is
always all encompassing
as we feel our way along.

But you are the light
your life is that
small shinning
flash light
illuminating
each moment
of our searching lives...

Graveyard

---

The melodious song of death lingers
••

We walk the sullen streets awaiting the arrival of the policeMan

••

Please
Write me a poem that indicates

One ******* thing you know is true
••


All the ***** poems are so fake

--

The love poems to corpse meat

••

Graveyard

The melodious death of the human race

And we who simply walk around

Two thirds of my wardrobe is pillarbox red
As are my lips, and the thoughts in my head.
I know I look confident, colourful, charismatic
And a part of me is all these things, but
I wrestle with sadness, I struggle with the blues.

I make more sense on a page, than face to face
And am more coherent drunk, than sober.
I love to dance, and sing, and play
A hedonist… But I have a heart
And when I give it away…

I can’t get enough of words. I can’t get enough of anything.
I drink haikus thirstily, I gorge myself on stanzas, rhyme-feasts,
Consumed with lust
of all kinds, but especially for poetry
Keep feeding me, please.

Secretly, I don’t think people like me,
I am just too much.
And it bothers me more than I care to admit, here
Because I crave adoration, and attention
(This stanza will be deleted…)

I try to live a succulent life
Full of joy and laughter and loving.
I try to be true, to myself, and here, to you
I am proud of myself.
I do the very best I can.

***

Little honey bee
Nectar is waiting for you
Come sip this sweetness.

sort-of falls in line with
a certain sense of humour;
a certain need for extravagantly epic Music;

Truest of Metal
is an extension, an expression,
of the disciplines of:
Practice, Patience, and Study
in the realm of Music
as well as whatever Instrument;
some of it is, indeed, simply noise
but, then again,
Music is but ordered noise,
is it not?

I see little separation
from Classical and Metal;
though Classical came first
Metal learned what works and why
from what came before;
a sort-of Musical evolution
a sort-of Cognitive evolution
a sort-of inspiration;

Metal music has great potential,
Metal is akin to Blues and Jazz
Metal is akin to Spanish Classical Guitar
Metal is akin to Baroque styles
Metal is akin to Gregorian chants
as well as rhythmic elements
derived from the Music
of various Cultures and Tribes
worldwide.

Metal
is a moderately tongue in cheek
melting ***
for lots of styles,
and, honestly,
lots of Drugs,
such as :alcohol and nicotine
and high-energy Music;

Truest of Metal
is an Art and a Science,
and, to some,
even a Religion.