Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Let’s go to hell
and pretend
to be wearing
disguises.

Wade across
the chasm of
darkness
into a place
of utter despair….
Oh wait,
we’re already
there….

And he’s
already here,
always is,

kept in check
by Benedict
and crucifix.

Prancing
to and fro
looking for
weakness in
my defenses
like a
velociraptor.

Usually its
short barks
and snorts,
And the
clicking
of
nails,

but today
he’s in disguise,

Satan
in sludge state,

a black liquid
shadow
wherever
I go.

Standing still
would be the
end of me,

Yet all
that is
within
me
wants
to dive
right in

like the town idiot,
succumb to the lure and
come forth covered
in feather.

he brings
much pleasure
at first
everything
is well
yet fleeting,

have some more
soon the sludge
will take you,
its inside of you,
swallowed you,
you of it and
it of you,

wake
and choke
and spit
in fear

this time
May be
the last

Don't stuff it
Back down

don’t look
in the mirror

Only God can
pull it out
but you have
to ask,

you have
to believe,
the key?

Don’t ask
too late.
she shall stand upon the sand

and bravely meet the wave

upon a shore of lonliness

bowing unto a new day

she shall feel the gentle kiss

of lapping water upon her skin

kissing spray of a repeat greeting

that continues to ask her to stay

she will sit upon the shore

to gather unto her side

repeating visits from

a retreating lover

that comes and goes

with the tide
the songs have
stopped

silence in the car
silence in my heart

the songs of others
fill my ears

the songs of others
fill my throat

but mine
have gone silent

the silly ones
the sad ones

all have flown

off somewhere
off all alone

a song almost
began today

my little furry
friend at play

these precious
fuzzy creatures

lighten my heart
such love pours out....
i miss my sweet buddies... my muses for my silly songs... about them... about our love... about our times together... Big Fat Yellow Bootay was created from time spent driving with this latest love of my life....  the songs will begin again... when the time is right.... time for each season in its turn....
a few hours tucked under
Egyptian cotton white sheets
fluffy duvet
and fur coats
doubling as blankets

waking on a cold, cold
winter night
hot tea for warmth
legs tucked under

crossed in prepaation for
silent reflection
for silence

clouds obscuring the
bright stars and
moon's radiant light
of earlier

always a struggle
stay up with the night?
go to bed with the
stuffed animals?

these night's feel
desperately empty
without the soft breath
the soft snores
the soft padding of
little puppyhead

imbibed waaaaay
too much red vino
the other evening
watching Downton Abbey

drowning sorrow?
or simply quaffing
great red wine at the
pace of a thirsty being,
lapping and gulping
quickly and greedily

my guess is the latter
a bulk of drinking issues
stem from the pace of consumption

later that night,
startled awake by
uncomfortable tummy
sensations

crawled onto the deck
and hurled with
great gusto
wine and food

sweet memories flooding
this mind..
reminded of many a night
the sweet puppyheads
did the same

Ah... the sweet freedom
a good throw up brings

the goddesses and gods
taking pity upon
this suffering sad soul
reprised the moment
again later that night

crawling out onto cold
frozen wood
magnificent stars
the vast heaven above
looking down
smiling and laughing
stars twinkling with delight

hurling away
laughing at it so
in the midst,
feeling so close to
my sweet puppyheads
as i did

funny,
the little things
the quirky things
that make us laugh
that bring great
peace to our soul

what a blessing from
heaven to find myself
out in the yard
on all fours
on a gorgeous winter night
feeling so close to those
i miss so

don't ever stop laughing....
and crying....

you'll short your system out
and then you WILL have real
trouble on your hands.....
later the next day... a fox wandered up to the deck and took to eating the *****... my my what hilarious juxtapositions the divine provides... and that was one skinny little mangy fox that came calling.... i did put out some good left over meat later, not partially predigested this time....
even now peals of laughter ring out... still missing my puppyheads but now it is time to wander off ...to wander out into the night.......
I want to
remain unsolved
remain a mystery...
One might be able to figure
some things out
about me
but not everything.
How could they
I do not share all
my innermost thoughts
or feelings.
Some things are to dark or
just too sacred to share
Besides....
Who doesn't want to
curl up with a good mystery
now and again.
This poem came about because someone recently told me I am a mystery... and I kinda like that :)
It's like the inevitable either you can climb it, or simply take the longer route and walk around,

The mountains are yet alive so when you go there for peace they'll make the slightest sound,

They will will not crumble do to a simple step,
Neither did they judge you when all you did is wept;

Be one with nature,
because rather we like it or not that is our future;

To become back one with where it is that our bodies came,
To finally realize that no matter what we do in life we are all indeed the same;

To the grass below and to the sky's above,
we will once become those we love;

To the mountains and to the sea,
To know that no one is below or above thee;
As sure as I am that I'd need several paragraphs to dance across the page it simply occurs to me that I'm not only a single player upon the stage but one of many that dance within this troupe and if I had to say something I'd have to step outside the group and pronounce soliloquy except that's not what this is about because I'm not the star upon this stage and I've never really studied the page but in this single sentence I've bought about a truly remarkable find insofar as I find it's easy to write a single sentence and make it work almost as easily as Miley Cyrus can twerk except it's December you see and at the end of the ignorance and loneliness it's just me.
time zones and timelines
endless times on wifi
phone lines and emails
plotting packages
through snail mail
sharing lives in tidbits
being comfortable with habit
chasing smiles, producing laughs
sharing tears inside silence
knowing without having to ask
messages and photos
jokes and remarks
making sure the night time
is not swallowed by the dark
saying good morning or
saying good night
is such a blessing
knowing tomorrow is coming
in a message
for you, my friend, my confidante, my reason to keep on writing
Rewards and scars gather up as hours collect my thoughts to gather in a lonely room.
Bladed cuts and screaming
haunt me silently
in the unmasked gloom

No skeletons in closet for demons keep me warm we often look for solace and I simply another line .  But the storms outside offer little silence and long is the night ahead.

The darkness stretches
in pale lines, etching bone in its loneliness
Tracing patterns of lightening against a dark tempest
I sit and wonder why
I sit so alone inside my head
I have forgotten your countenance

The swing in your voice

The blink of your eyes

The smile on your freckles

The scars on your knee

(that I kissed everyday)


I don’t remember a thing

The heart no more sings your name

You seem so trivial and away

The eyes seek another

And yet, I am writing for you

So, I will let our idiosyncrasies talk

Like they always have.


I am leaving this poem unfinished, like us

I cannot find more to write

You see, I don’t remember a thing

Except that, I remember it all.
Next page