He is gone now
Returned to dust
All that is left of him
Are his mother's tears
Tears that she cries in torrents of pain
Late at night when all others sleep and dream
She rocks in the old rocking chair
Weeping and sobbing
There is no comfort for her
Knowing that he is gone
His place on this earth vanished
The life that she gave no longer existing
All that is left of him now
Are his mothers tears

Do I dare to dream; To aspire to those lofty
heights from which I could fatally plummet?

Ah, but the air is crisp and the sky is
blue upon that misty summit

And it calls to my desire to have the world
beneath my feet

But if I am again to dream I first must rest and sleep

Do I dare to dream
To aspire to those lofty
heights from which I could fatally plummet?

Ah, but the air is crisp and the sky is
blue upon that misty summit

And it calls to my desire to have the world
beneath my feet

But if I am again to dream I first must rest and sleep

Mrs. Gardener in her gloves

Silk and blue

Planting in love

For her children

Too poor to eat

Carrots and peas

Planted in peat

Cotton for clothes

And potatoes for stew

Poor Mrs. Gardener

Plants in rows

For the future

In her blue gloves

I wouldn't write
Not a word, Nay one
Until she caught me in the corridor
A dark hallway for sure
And put her blade to me
Sharp and cold
To the hilt
One push
One twist
To make me feel the pain
So now
And only now
Do I sing

Shall we all stand idly by as our country erodes
watching day to day as our freedom wanes
and our precious republic fades to nothing?
Have none the courage or foresight to care or fight?
Shall we sit back in idle content
as shackles are slowly forged around our ankles?
I say not!  I say that this thing that we have,
this unique experiment called freedom,
is too great a thing to perish.
We are a nation of kings;
Every man born to rule what he can.
We, America, took the sovereignty of the monarchs
and then set their crowns upon the head of every citizen.
Shall we now give that crown back?
Shall we cede the freedom paid for in the blood of our ancestors?
I say not!
I say let the battle be enjoined!
Let the forces that work against us,
against freedom and liberty,
meet us on those bloodstained fields of freedom;
For we will fight and in this fight prevail.
Let us march towards those fields now,
with honor
for the  many who  have fallen there before us.
Let us take this sacred duty,
the protection of the freedom of all men,
and march toward our destiny.
We are all the new sons of liberty.

I dreamed a dream of dreaming

Laying softly in my bed

Sugar plums and torment

Dancing in my head

I dreamed a dream of life and death

Of hope and blood and glory

Of dancing through a sunlit field

With daisies, grass and bodies

I was but a child

Loving, small and free

As I glided silently

My life ran out of me

I laughed and giggled in happiness

As a child is apt to do

As I stepped around lifeless forms

Battered black and blue

Not a care had I

Not one in the world

As I pranced beneath the sky

'Til lightning struck with crackling fury

And I lay down to die

I dreamed a dream of dreaming

Of happiness and and strife

I dreamed a dream of dreaming

I dreamed a dream of life

Maybe I have nothing to say today
But you won't accept that
You secretly slip words into my brain
Like a tongue sliding between closed lips
Suddenly and unexpected
A moment of shock and surprise
Yes, I went to peck you on the cheek
And you slipped me the tongue
Maybe I don't want your words kissing me
Your passion pouring in my mouth
Hot and torrid
Sliding soft and wet on my lips
Maybe today I want to be left alone
But you won't accept that
You are always nagging me

I guess I am like that Rat

He was  the tough one that wouldn't die.

The one that just couldn't be killed... until he was

He had been shot and hurt, holed through, at least 3 times, gone to death though still not yet,

But still he fought, running, hiding and evading

When the dog finally came for him, scented in, brown and power in dusted thunder

With spit, teeth and blood rolling

The rat actually jumped up to fight, springing and trying to bite him in the face

He bounced and sprang, almost like a boxer, dodging in and out, feinting and snapping

For a moment, surviving

The dog , for his part, was a  little more cautious

On the last go round with this rat , he had taken a nasty bite to the lip and nose while trying to put the death clamp to him

The rat took advantage of the moments hesitation to quickly squeeze through the chicken wire and escape between the layers

The dog ,snapping , bit him as he went through, trying to crush him in his powerful jaws

But the wire caught his teeth in gnashing

And the rat slipped away

Gone in the dark

Until he wasn't

Until he was found again

Found behind the planter, then under the footer and then back on the other side of the aging chicken wire

He had been shot again in the meantime, yet still his reserves weren't gone

Still he ran and led the dog on the chase, evading him at every turn

Until he didn't

The last shot stopped him and he lay down

He was wet with dog spit and bedraggled and still wanting to bite

But it was over and the dog pounced on him and put the death bite to his stomach, ending it finally

This rat had been trapped the week before and escaped from the jaws of the trap, into the jaws of the dog

He escaped once again with a well placed bite and lived to fight another day

And what a fight it was

And I think that I am like that rat. I just keep going and keep fighting and I think it's mainly because I just don't know how to give up or maybe sometimes I am just too dumb to give up..

Maybe that was the rats problem too.

Falling, Falling, Falling; Free.

blue skied ceiling above, mother earth below.

I see.

I touch, I feel, one moment, one sight,

one, one, one.

One moment of freedom, air rushing,

caressing my skin, filling my soul.

I can fly.

Her sweet embrace, in one moment,

one fleeting instant, one red flash of

sight, envelopes me.

I am one.

Life lived at any cost is just not for me.  I just can’t accept the concept of “bow down and you will be spared”.   There are greater things in life than just breathing air. Things like liberty and honor , the great ideas of men, are more important than the empty life of a drone worker. There are people who will give up anything, or anyone just to continue living a miserable existence.   Who the hell accepts the life of a slave? Certainly not me. Give me death as I fight you, you tyrant ****.   The innate rights that are granted by your creator? Those are nothing if you are not willing to fight for them. I wasn’t given the right to be free… I was given the right to fight to be free. That was what was breathed into me along with my breath and life; The fire of freedom.  I wasn’t born with a bill of rights in my hand; I was born with a hand that could write them. I was born with a hand that could make a weapon and use it if my freedom is oppressed. I was born with a fire that will not accept subjugation. I was born with a fire that will make me fight to remain free. That fire of freedom will only leave me when the last breath is pressed from my chest.    There may be a lot of tough choices coming up for people here shortly, but not for me. That choice for me was made many years ago, that choice was birthed into this world right along side of me.  “Victoria Aut Mors”

I just added a collection called "Only my best" to help people showcase their best works. I would invite any and all to add their works to it. Please pass it around as I don't really know how to invite people to it.
http://hellopoetry.com/collection/6380/only-my-best/

He pounded coffin nails
With a hammer forged of fear
Every word of spite nailing in and holding
Badged and vested
Death and bullets resting in his gun
But still frightened by this woman
Standing proud
Whom he could not bully
Nor subdue
Hammer, hammer, hammer
Testimony to the judge
That in all his years
He had never met a woman like her
Who acted like her
No respect
No fear
Of course not you fool
You charged into the camp
Of Boudicea
Come to **** and pillage
And fell beneath her sword
Hammer, hammer, hammer
You can lock her up
But you can never bury fear

And in the sky
Floats all the breath
Of every man who has ever lived
Or ever died
Pasted onto the pale blue wind
Sometimes raining
Sometimes shading
But always and forever there

He thought that he had been evicted like a raucous Irishman, late once again on the rent, his belongings and furniture strewn on the lawn
His cold, deadly stare and ruffled red, said the same, with haughty indignation written all over him
As could be expected with any eviction, belongings strewn to the street, it started to rain; large splattering drops falling from the sky with an audible impact, adding insult to the injury
But he was just a child, set free and off to learn on his own, his perch and roost along with his chair, moved to his new home
He had outgrown the large screen porch, which was such a ridiculous place for an Owl anyway
Wood and glen gone, surrounded by girder and screen, locked into the realm of old peoples coffee and cigarettes
Tucked up into the eaves ignominiously, or sitting on the lamp, grooming flesh from his over large and taloned  feet
He would sit silhouetted by the dim red glow of the bulb, relaxing, until a noise would spin his head and he would become hooded and glaring death
The lamp added a glow to his eyes, which already burned with a raptors fire and he would become the personification of evil to the world of prey
Low and crouched, wings slightly spread; he would become the terrifying story that small warm animals tell their children at night to keep them in line and safe
But now he has been moved outside and all of his familiar belongings with him, or most anyways
Now he perches outside, either on the rough, twisted branches near his roost, or his favorite chair, and contemplates late into the night
But it seems that he prefers the comfort of his living room and he rests on the arm of the chair, quiet and pensive in the still and humid darkness
He stares at me while I smoke; the white plumes drifting like iridescent fog into the moonlight, while I observe him from his former home, illuminated by the dim lamp light
His saffron eyes gleam in the darkness, his dark form robed in that of the raptor, wings held down, with the tips outstretched like fingers
He stares at the lamp, standing like a pedestal against the wall and I wonder to myself
Does he want his ****** lamp moved out there too?

Rack the slide

And drop the round

Here it comes

It’s going down

Voting day

Every way

From the rooftops

And In the streets

Pack the courts

Then run like rats

Pack the courts

No going back

“Let me be clear”

He declared

“Nothing is off the table

For next year”

You have said it

You have said it

Pack the court

Don’t panic anyone, the government has everything under control. In the meantime watch out for people with blood shooting out of their eyes, coughing, sniffling children and dogs with fevers.

Additionally do not approach any individual who is vomiting buckets of blood or any child who is crying and did not just fall down.

If you see men in spacesuits do NOT fire upon them, they are not aliens, they are from the government and they are there to help you.

If you see razor wire around your neighborhood do not attempt to climb it. Not only will it cut you badly, increasing your chance of infection, but it was put there by the government for your own protection.

Remember to stay calm and everything will be all right. Just do not lick anyone who appears ill, breathe in or out, touch the bottom of your shoes or drive with your windows rolled down.

This has been a public service announcement.

They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week, or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable--and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.

It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace-- but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!

I sit in evenings dim glow
and contemplate the mysteries of life
with my cat
As our minds begin to grapple
the subtle complexities of infinity
We realize that pencils on paper
sound like mice

He walked through the wood

Tangled and Grown

Shade and clinging vine

Grasping at him

Thislte and trail

In the cool Of early spring

Leading him to

Blueberries

In muted cool

On shaded path

Blue eyed and looking on

The fruit of his desire

In baskest blonde

Of woven reed

Come before his hand

Came the fruit

That drove him there

“til springing beast

In Muscled brown

And killing rage

Charged through the forest

And drove all thoughts

Of civil life

Off

With just one Grey squirrel

I hope that wild berries
Will bring some joy to her
I wander the spring woods
In search of  sweet treasure
My footsteps are all that break
The mornings bleak silence
I slowly fill my basket with Blueberries
I pick our life with each sweet fruit
Our ripe destinies gripped in my fingers
My eyes fall upon dark Raspberries
They hang in the sun in  juicy prime
Suspended like treasures, Plump sweet jewels
Dangling from thorny crowns
Greedily they are plucked from their vine
For a moment I am happy with my bounty
My basket is full of ripe and plentiful fruit
Then her pain comes to my mind
My happiness is clouded over by worry
Cast into the shade by the dark shadows
I wonder if my basket of wild berries
Will be enough
I hope it will

I can't bear to look at her picture
I've seen it too many times
I can't take looking into her eyes
Every time I do a layer of armor
Is stripped from me and cast away
Until I am naked and exposed
My heart unshielded
From the sharp spears
It has been wrung
The grief twisted out of it
Until it has become a physical pain
My eyes have to look away
When I see her
My manly defenses are gone
I am sick and weak
And my very soul is starting to cry
I can't bear to see her picture anymore
Or hear myself say  "I love you"

That little pink lunch box
Looks empty
Sitting on the shelf
But it's not
It hurts me to look into it
Because it is still packed full
With my love
My heart
Dreams and aspirations
That were gently laid
Into it everyday
Packaged in neatly
So they would all fit
I think of those little hands
That carried it everyday
That carried everything
Packed into it
And it melts my heart
It makes me wonder
Why I even opened it
God, I miss her in the mornings

And now it's here

In rippling current

Spread in waves and moving torrent

Soft wind spreading

Slowly moving

Pollen

Pollen

Yellow

Floating

germinating

Strains

O­f disaster

Breeding swollen fruits of death

By the bushel

By the basket

Breathe

Breathe

Breathe

Breed

Her kiss

Spoken softly

Onto my lips

Recites me poems of love

Wild with passion

Told to my tongue

And I listen

And listen

Her kiss

Spoken softly

Onto my lips

Recites me poems of love

Wild with passion

Told to my tongue

And I listen

And listen

Echoes from the past

Bounced off of dim

Tobacco stained walls

Make their way

Into my room

Pastel green and blue

Mute the sound

Of

Poker chips and laughter

Chairs scraping the floor

Clinking and choking

Din and loudness

Makes me

Just as happy

As the room full of family

It chases the darkening night

And childhood fear

Like whispering smoke

Breathed from the dragons ’round the table

Downing whiskey and stories

Laughing

Not knowing

But singing sweet lullabies

In the dark

Singing down the hallway

Sweet goodnight

Echoes from the past

Bounced off of dim

Tobacco stained walls

Make their way

Into my room

Pastel green and blue

Mute the sound

Of Poker chips and laughter

Chairs scraping the floor

Clinking and choking

Din and loudness

In the fading distance

Drifting to sleep

Makes me

Just as happy

As the room full of family

It chases the darkening night

And childhood fear

Like whispering smoke

Breathed from the dragons ’round the table

Downing whiskey and stories

Laughing

Not knowing

But singing sweet lullabies

In the dark

Singing down the hallway

Sweet goodnight

Poor Larry Worley

His world turned topsy turvy

Didn’t have a clue to the crime

A wife with knives

And ******

On her mind

Laid poor Larry

On the sod for all time

Gone but not forgottrn

Poor Larry Worley

His wife’s hair all curly

Was stabbed over 21 times



Sorry to see you go Larry. Godspeed my friend

She sits in the cold rain
And lets the dark night weep onto her skin
She does the only thing that he can't
Which is to feel
She is as cold as him now
But she breathes
Weeping into the night
But breathing nonetheless
Still having life
Even as the cold sting
Robs her of her warmth

I wield my words viciously

Like a knife

I slash at her

As I **** her

Hold her down and penetrate her

Blood showers from my blade

As I overwhelm her

But slowly my ravishes

****** after ******

Turn into love

And I wonder

What have I done?

My internet is gone
my modem
lays on the lawn
like the colored
leaves of fall
It is haunted
by the signals it once received
mocked by the cables
so close
Their information left
like water
leaking onto the floor
I wonder now
in the dark still of night
Why, why?
Did she ever
decide on DSL?

The cut is too much
The **** to my love
Fatal
The life blood
Has drained
From the deep wounds
Of my heart
Left in a dark pool
To cool and become
Lifeless
And something else
And now
I can't touch her anymore
I can't reach her heart
Or let her reach mine
I can't have her hands
On my heart again
I can't let her hold it
I can't Feel her love again
Because this time
I don't if I will survive

It's time to be alive again
To Breathe again
To feel again
To let the dead
Be gone
And be dead

It's hard to believe
in fate
Until it happens
Blood on blood
Running on your skin
Dark tattoos of pain
On your soul
On your floor
You bleed
until you can bleed
no more
You bleed until
You are empty

Rule shakes off of me , like Yesterdays dust
And I dream freedom
Freedom like a vision
Freedom shining like the sun
So bright that all the shadows of chains are gone
The prison walls built by men
Fade away
And my own shadow
That ruled man
Is overtaken by the rays
And becomes light of itself
And the dust of yesterday,of years, of centuries
Is blown away on the breeze
Gone, gone, oppression
The currency kings
Gone in freedom
Freedom in my dream

I want to ride on our river
Peaceful and calm
We've carved our canyons
Our torrents gone
The earth once moved before us
Our waters swelled by storms
But now I want the quiet beauty
The rolling river that runs between
The mountains and the high blue sky
The quiet waters of our river
That you and I can ride

I have courted
her for years
showing her
kindness
and love
She in turn
has evaded me
like a ghost
gone
just out of grasp
never there
when I reached
I have longed to
touch her
feel her warmth
her softness
comfort her
in my arms
But she was
never there
until today.
I reach for her
and my hand
finally finds her

I almost became
Someones sad poems
Then I met you

I was but a child

When she faded

First grey

Then gone

Into nothingness

And slowly slipped away

To the other side of the mind

Razor blades and bibles

Children cut from books

Kept her smiling

Kept her sailing

Trailing cut mooring lines

Into the dark night

On the other side of the mind.

Spiraling down

With broken wings

Shot sure to it's mark

The hard ground beneath

Comes fast to meet you

We followed you

To find

A fragile bird

With broken wing

Dragged in the dirt

Limping, unable  to fly

We tried to save you

From hard, capable hands

That quickly snuffed your life

I've drunk of the wine of spring

and been intoxicated by the lush sweetness of it's life

I've basked in the sky of the cool summer night

and felt the myriad stars beckoning to my soul

I've felt autumns bitter chill settling into my bones

as the leaves turned scarlet red and knew that winter was near

I've felt the frozen bite of Decembers icy winds wrap me

in their lifeless embrace and steal the warmth from my heart

I'm hoping that she lives now in the green pasture
That's nestled into the curve of the forest
Outside of the dappled dewy shade
And hued moistness
The blue sky running like water above
And the lazy trickling creek running it's course below
All the red clay gone
Cut through to shale and rock
By the water that cares nothing but to run
I hope that she has a place here
A place in the meadow in the Sun
A place to be warm
After all the cold she had in life

They lived as ghosts
Between the light and the dark
Leading their lives as dead men
Gone without the funeral
Buried beneath headstones without dates
No green fields to tread upon
And see their names
No flowered coffin to cry upon
They were the chosen
The few
To fight
Chasing the wraiths of freedom
A ghost as elusive as themselves

I am now the old dog under tree

I will sit back and watch as the the wolves devour the sheep

Wolves will be wolves

And sheep will be sheep

Just don’t come under my tree

And all will be fine

With me

It was a brief respite

From the hard work

And harsh horrors

Of the daily routine

It was the warm comfort of home

Steaming into the cold night

Wraiths of scent and flavor

Drifting through the enemy air

It was Shared ’round low fires

That reflected off the rolled wire

Glinting like stars in the darkness

Amid the raucous din of the mess tent

The clank of tin cups and mess pans

Replaced that of rolling treads

The rumbling death

That hunted down the small groups of men

Praying under the Aspen

Laughter, that medicine so rare

Played like wind through the camp

And peace for a moment was here

The food, always to be remembered

Was the only reminder

That they were still men

For a night

If only for a night

They could sleep

Dedicated to my Father Lee Roy Jarrett, 359th Co. engineers U.S. Army, 1941-1946

She had become a pale wraith
Just a ghost of the girl gone
Blondness and whiteness faded into one
Dead already
But not yet really
Still breathing
But with no heart beating
Nothing warm or filled with love
Just the pinch of the needle
Stinging in her arm
Her only smile
For that pleasure
But that too would soon be gone
And she would be cold and still
And she would wait in her bed
Frozen like a statue
Waiting for someone to find her
And consign her to the ground

It still slaps me in the face
Every time I see her
Look into her eyes
Or see her smile
Even after all the years
It is still like the first time
That love at first sight
That never died
My heart is clay
Worked by the hands
Of her love
And I will always be smitten
By her
As long as I am alive

The serpent has mingled with my blood

As she devours me,

I become her lover

Half lidded eyes

closed with numbness

My body tingles

from her touch

She has me paralyzed

She has left me speechless

Her poison

runs through my veins

I can feel her all over my body

She has become I

And I she

I can feel myself

becoming dead

yet alive

Becoming, Soil, water and sky

All things and none

My soon to be widow

lays across my bed

And Weeping Mary, weeps

As I leave her

for another lover

I am afraid to close my eyes

I am odd
Some would say
But not to me
Living here in my own skin
My castle of bones
Listening to words
Beating like my heart
Some would say
I am odd
But not to me