The children are all crying in their pens
and the surf carries their cries away.
They are old men who have seen too much,
their mouths are full of ***** clothes,
the tongues poverty, tears like ****.
The surf pushes their cries back.
Listen.
They are bewitched.
They are writing down their life
on the wings of an elf
who then dissolves.
They are writing down their life
on a century fallen to ruin.
They are writing down their life
on the bomb of an alien God.
I am too.
We must get help.
The children are dying in their pens.
Their bodies are crumbling.
Their tongues are twisting backwards.
There is a certain ritual to it.
There is a dance they do in their pens.
Their mouths are immense.
They are swallowing monster hearts.
So is my mouth.

Listen.
We must all stop dying in the little ways,
in the craters of hate,
in the potholes of indifference--
a ****** in the temple.
The place I live in
is a maze
and I keep seeking
the exit or the home.
Yet if I could listen
to the bulldog courage of those children
and turn inward into the plague of my soul
with more eyes than the stars
I could melt the darkness--
as suddenly as that time
when an awful headache goes away
or someone puts out the fire--
and stop the darkness and its amputations
and find the real McCoy
in the private holiness
of my hands.

There is a forest old as hillsides
tall, majestic, dappled shades
fall on ground beneath the silent
gnarled defenders of the glade.

There they stand in ancient splendour
many souls have passed their way
often used as welcome shelter
from the heat of summers day.

Sweet the air they breathe in chorus
our life's breath their lungs provide,
soaking up our daily poison
so that we may live and thrive.

You seas of men intent to clear them
citing progress, peddling greed
tearing roots from precious mooring
laying waste to nature's seed.

**** the beauty of a landscape
displace creatures for your need
rupture fragile ecosystems
scar the earth and watch it bleed.

To you I ask a simple question,
as I see the land bereaved.
What need has man of all this progress
when he can no longer breathe?

I drink of the waters of sinner’s delight
Smooth to the taste I believe
Washed up ashore on a moonless lit night
Much more than one can conceive

Poured in a goblet of yellow and blue
Butterfly patterns a’ shine
Wings in the vestibule, blinding the view
There only destined of time

Here at the stairway that leads to your heart
Spiraling up to the sky
Winding in tapestries, threadbare to start
Whimsical fabrics now sigh

Taking each step as I breathe in the change
Shadows about do compare
Absolute beauty of love rearranged
Finding the most in each stair

Hallways extend each direction a’ flow
Candlelit beacons provide
A knock on your door in the midst of their glow
Whispers now call me inside

Therefore my eyes as a silhouette fine
Loveliness clings to a smile
Chantilly lace in the garments a’ shine
Filling my eyes all the while

Heavenly scent of magnolia bloom
Fresh as this hot summer’s fire
White opalescence in shades of the moon
Painting my soul with desire

Touches of satin, so smooth comes your skin
Breathless endeavors soon pour
Hoping on hope of the welcoming in
Of what this night has in store

Lips of chiffon in a raspberry grin
Porcelain shimmering thighs
Desperate these thoughts now awash in a sin
Breath comes a sonnet of sighs

Reaching I stumble, my balance unsure
Shivers, my toes to my spine
Stuttering nervous of this I adore
Formed of the sweetest design

Then with a wisp as the draperies wave
Flames flicker quick of the flow
Smoke from the wicks meets the ceiling once more
As I cry, where did you go

Standing here holding of one dozen roses
Cellophane wrapped round the stems
Seeing the window so quickly it closes
I was but this close again

Keep them close hold them tight
with them be as long you can
love them whole day and night
life is too brief a span!

Bonds are fragile time merciless
frail is the bridging link
fleeting are moments of small happiness
go would they all in a wink!

Keep them to you as long you can
give them the all you own
fill as much this short span
love them not leave them alone!

Days wear out past comes fast
forever is a figment of solace
love them hard so long they last
treasure them in warm embrace!