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 Feb 2016 cyanide skies
N Paul
Will we meet in shady groves;
Upon a hill? Perhaps in morning.
In hidden vines of deepest green… Does day break?
We spool in canopies as the world beyond awakes;
Cocoons of fragrant freshness. So here I sit and of you I wish.

Will we meet in times of woe;
Under streets beveiled? Perhaps in mourning.
The well-worn cobbles ache terribly, my dear, let us go inside
A yellow cigarette crushed against the glass; I burn for tenderness and see
It in your eye. So there you sway and beneath you I lay.

Will your face be one I know;
Past veils of spidersilk? Perhaps, my darling.
This well-worn world aches terribly, let us make our own
From shady grove to comforts home; an empire on the hill.
Lifetime passes in an eyeblink. So with you I hide
Til our tender world’s first sunrise.
****-stained is the color of leaves falling, we say goodbye to ourselves like to lost lovers,  ripping up old love letters, tripping whiskey into the distance,

coarse wood chips of dockside hearts burned on future November bonfires spouting unholy flames, burning ourselves on the stake but once these harbor crane streets were ours & our fervent love in the making, not living on borrowed

breath or dying time, joyriding, unafraid of not wearing masks amidst the garish masquerade & someone who made us laugh & love despite ourselves was all we lived for

- remember?
I do.
.....insomnia makes me write all kinds of things....
5 a.m motorcycle
where you headed to
through the endless darkness
of the empty suburbs
yours is the night to have & to hold
sleepless & free
stirring up the wind
yet lonely
so lonely
I can feel it
whatcha lookin' for,
lil' Brother
not yours the comfort
of  dreams & forgetfulness
(nor mine)
riding through the night
just killing time
in the empty suburbs
Let this world wipe me off the face of existence; for I will never stop fighting with full resistance.
The fallen shall be wept over and the wounded will be praised; the faces of many will never see them nor ever be phased.
They protect us with the blood of our country, but they never stop laying down the bodies that stand to pose a threat.

Thank you all Veterans!
He was always my almost.
Always almost there,
always almost mine.
I loved him, always-
and he loved me, almost.

*I was almost her always.
Almost always there,
almost always hers.
I loved her, almost-
and she loved me, always.
Silence is golden,
Your words are quicksilver.
Silence is painful,
violent.
The words may sting,
But silence is a quiet death,
a poison creeping in your veins.
Say nothing, do nothing,
Feel nothing.
Silence is golden,
Silence is cruel.
With every breath,
You exhale fear.
With every gasp,
You inhale death.
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