A Ghost that once lived in the redwood oak house
It was shared with a little mouse
The house was once dwelled by Mr. Robert Swellers, an Old man
He died some say in a strange death
But being he was an old man, one could say he died from Old age
Yet there seemed to be a lot of rage
Mysterious as it sounds, one can only be curious bound
However, the neighboring houses would often hear sounds
Yet Mr. Swellers Ghost wants to keep any Buyers from purchasing his home
The Ghost of Mr. Swellers that his house will be left alone
As a Ghost, Mr. Swellers is letting it be known
But the surrounding neighbors feel very uncomfortable
The fact in knowing that there is a Ghost on the block
They dare not mock
A Ghost that storms through a once owned house
Mr. Swellers never married so had no spouse
The emptiness of one’s soul
A wonder that captives the behold
A story fold
Yet the mystery that was ever told
Peace with no rest
Only the Ghost of Mr. Swellers can contest
Hold on too your flesh as it will be all you will have left.

.

A green park bench
and my shadow

slanted to the field
watching pigeons form a heart shape
among clover and dandelion

seeding my thoughts
on a steady breeze

lovers walk holding hands
swinging arms and bracelets
happy go lucky feet
flip flops and sneakers

and I toss popcorn
stale but they don’t care
(I didn’t like the movie)
fine feathered friends

A green park bench
still only one shadow
wishing there were two

Like billowing sheets they rose
grey wings beating endlessly at the air
silver bellies dragging over the tops of trees
tendrils of fog tapping at faded window panes
waking the city

Like a lazy cat it stretched
yawning widely showing its fangs
even before breakfast time
as slowly it padded out of its doors shaking its fur
against the rain

Numbness conquers my body,
Darkness invades, leaving its trace
Inside the sun's blinding rays.
And everything starts to twist-
Out of place.
The feeling persists,
But it doesn't exist.
I can recall living in this
Moment, having you hold it
The fragile boulder on your
Aching shoulders.
Crumbling bones,
I'll snort your dusty marrow.
Hallowing your hollow,
Promising tomorrows.
I can't recall having burrowed
This deeply, getting lost in the scenery
Of wickedness and fiery horizons.
I can see the sun set behind your eyelids.

I can't recall living this moment,
When you took words and swore it,
That the light would persist
When the darkness was swollen.

-SLuR

Untouched, by human hands
it grows strongly.
Uncultivated, by human means
it exists freely.  
Untainted, by human instruments
it lives purely.

To its very core,
it embodies originality.
To its deepest roots,
it remains unrestrained.
To its brightest petals,
it emanates splendor.

Untouched, by social influence,
she grows strongly.
Uncultivated, by social expectations,
she exists freely.
Untainted, by social conformity,
she lives purely.  

To her very core,
she seizes independence.
To her deepest roots,
she wanders uncontrolled.
To her brightest petals,
she radiates beauty.