Coming as you do,
from a land so close to the sun
I am not surprised that you are filled with light
Nor am I surprised that you carry a piece of
those warm blue oceans where
music springs from all places
even the broken bottles
what surprises me is the ease
at which you share it
so that I, who have only swam
in cold dark waters
sometimes miss it too.

Peaceful songbirds
The innocent masses
The little kisses that mean so much/so little

The dagger black
The rare jewels in ancient tombs
Dead bodies leaving gaps for others to fill

We see them in silence
Quietly hiding away the lives we live
The smirks on our faces enhancing the lie

The reaper laughs his hallow laugh
We are blind to our enemy/focused on false goals
A blade ***** away our life

An imaginary shroud removes our whim
We dissolve to animals
These are the last days

I use a pile of lies, tricks, and hypocrisy as a throne
Some men scoff at me
Many more scorn my birth

One asks me
"Why use this as a ruling place?"
I chuckle

And answer
"Have you ever seen one made of something else?
I just don't paint it up in gold"

going to try
pen and paper
again

starting with
a piece
transferred from a loose slip
during english

so
I wonder

what can I do with this?

perhaps,
a hundred poems
in this little
red
book
will appear
for my eyes
or for
others