a dream—
of landscape scorched,
its reflection my
soul.
the place one oft ventured
wandered—lost,
alone.

thunder,
lightning in the distance, the
rumblings of a
turbulent mind.

the ash of failed dreams
drifting
through the air,
strike as rain breaking silence—
a nagging reminder of effort’s shame.

angst, regret, fear
despair
a place damaged,
not yet under repair.

a flower
shocking contrast amidst mire.
perfect white petals perched on the
stem of a pen.
“My name is poetry.”
the instrument spoke,
“and you—are my purpose.”

so the stars are hiding
tonight...

perhaps they make a deal
with the clouds,
so every now and then,
they can kick back,
drink a beer and go
to the movies....

it must be hard,
to keep your twinkle, sparkly
night, after night, after night,

everybody....
even the heavenly ones deserve some....
                        down-time.

am i right or am i right!!!!

'Cut, cut, little scratch. I wonder how you got attached. On this skin so red and clear. Like everything could disappear.

When the darkness has fallen on you. When the silence is becoming true. Then you grab your little knife. And cut, cut to come alive.

Then the voices in your head. Were getting silent instead. They did not know what to do. Without that body of you.

In the night sky you lay there. Under the white sheets without air. Forever shutting your eyes, dreaming of yourself in heaven skies.

As you fell asleep and finally got rest. Now they'll know they got your buttons pressed. Though little sister blames it all on herself. Cut, cut, little scratch.'

Ink drops black, my soul infecting
Into water invading purity
Foreign substance contradicting
Clarity clouding, dark arching tentacles
Swirling about, twirling twisting
Depictions tempting
Hanging
In grotesque formation
Beautiful in their horror
Entrancing in their mingling

Each drop fresh transgression
My life’s cup growing darker
Liquid limbs of the ****** flailing
A dance of warning—that
I should become one of them if not
To filter disease of this breath

Faces
Fluid forming in inky swirl
Screaming, crying my name
Those here before me
Warning of my impending damnation
Singing anguish
Their tears impotent to cleanse
The stain that is my life

To undo that so long ago done
A power to remove the tint of my soul
Considered endlessly
If there be a time too late for
Men whose lives were spent foolishly
Their warning unheeded
Threat becoming promise pending
Hope’s defeat
A threat of doused despair

Favour despite nightmare’s creeping
An infant born
Filling cup further though
Not with night but with love
Salvation’s sacrifice
Understood, seen in the tiny smile
Of a child

(For D. M. C.)

The little man with the vague beard and guise
Pulled at the wicket. "Come inside!" he said,
"I'll show you all we've got now -- it was size
You wanted? -- oh, dry colors! Well" -- he led
To a dim alley lined with musty bins,
And pulled one fiercely. Violent and bold
A sudden tempest of mad, shrieking sins
Scarlet screamed out above the battered gold
Of tins and picture-frames. I held my breath.
He tugged another hard -- and sapphire skies
Spread in vast quietude, serene as death,
O'er waves like crackled turquoise -- and my eyes
Burnt with the blinding brilliance of calm sea!
"We're selling that lot there out cheap!" said he.