She is saying goodbye
to an old friend.
Discordant telephone cord
pulls itself away
as mosquitoes emasculate;
warm summer night.
Her voice lingers in the humidity
perspiration
drips, slides;
empty whispers.

Crickets and cicadas circa 1947,
running through fields at midnight
riding the bike pass the gallows
that was Uncle Mike's,
tender breeze through hair
like a mother's stroke.
Shoe soles stomping cigarette buds
in haste,
driving through cliffs
diving into continuum (then)
holding out for whatever comes.
No more.

All is left—
rustling leaves
sepia tinted photographs
tattered edges;
reminiscences of warm summer nights
retold to a child.

~Still life

In the window frame
Empty stare
Through the self-imposed
Prison of glass -
On the windowsill
Candle never lit -
Souvenirs of the past

Painting -
An empty shell
Of a woman, staring
Chiaroscuro background -
Darkness, shade, hardly any light
To illuminate
The inside
Of the jail

Contemplating
Escape?
Suicide?

Waiting
For what
For the end?
Waiting for whom?

Waiting for God-ot!
He, who shall never come -

In vain
Still waiting
Years too late
For the bells to toll

In the window frame
Oil on canvas -
It is me
Through the window pane
Staring through the glass

Resigned

Lifeless

Still life

On canvas


Author Notes:
Waiting for Godot - Samuel Beckett's - absurd tragicomedy; Godot never shows up.

Someday
When the storms of doubt
Or the fear of failure
Cease to haunt
My plans for the future
I will rise
And break off my chains
And ascend to the stars
To realms that I belong
Today I see
A misty horizon
Where cares and wants
Try to bring me down
But fight I will
And in strides and leaps
I'll someday behold
A field of victory

I like what you do to me,
does it count,
****** me poetically?
this fantasy,
it pleases me.
You grabbing me
from inside and
forcing me,
until I’m ashamed.
Though I’m to blame.
No room to be bashful,
I just had a mouthful,

-Your well written slave.

Opulence surrounds you, overconfident in your approach
the golden lust of your ego projects
itself in the driver's seat with that tiny smirk
here as we drive on
at a adrenaline inducing speed
the sunset caught between leaves and branches
of these trees.
I am
baptized
in a hypnagogic state
dreamy
but
still here.
"let go"
I say to you
oblivious
to what is right in front of you.
"let go of the wheel"
because
it's too beautiful
and because
I think I love here,
as I close my eyes and
letting the wind toss my hair about and
letting the stroboscopic flicker
tease the petals of my face and
forgetting about what matters and what doesn't,
more than being here with you to be honest.

Me and all my ugly friends
Dressed for a nuclear winter
We hopped the barbed wire fence
And played in the reactor

We burned our shadows on the wall
And played baseball with atoms
God showed us his tentacles
We never knew he had ‘em

The boys in blue were strollin’ by
Their eyes burned us like lasers
Our bodies fell like broken kites
When they triggered the tasers

Long nights spent in juvy hall
Will break a mutant’s spirit
We tried to tell the guards a joke
They didn’t want to hear it

All the pretty kids at school
Had seen us on the news
Mondays are a hell of a day
For dishin’ out the blues

The teachers took their time with us
They made sure not to spoil it
They ripped the wings right off our backs
And flushed them town the toilet

They shoved their logic down our throats
They knew we couldn’t chew it
Spitting up my right to vote
We were cured before we knew it

Wake up before my world fades in between
Thoughts of woodland streams I’ve sought forever
Wake me, my lonely heart lies in a dream

My eyes are open, blank but yet agleam
For pillow feathers on wings are better
Wake up before my world fades in between

In breezy fields of light I laugh unseen
The purple sunrise a crystal treasure
Wake me, my lonely heart lies in a dream

Beyond your hurried streets of steel machines
I believe the stars, why should I ever
Wake up before my world fades in between

Now black white, a pounding door, grey on green
My world dissolves to cold air, oh never
Wake me, my lonely heart lies in a dream

My clock ticks out its bible with a scream
To empty ears and glazed eyes, I’ll never
Wake up before my world fades in between.
Wake me, my lonely heart lies in a dream

My heart is but a wary fortress
Warding off any ounce of deception
Yet allowing complete devotion,
Succumbing to a lost revolution
Yet defending against any form of desertion,
Searching for sincere redemption
Yet invoking shrouded decryption,
Craving such an elegant disruption
Yet containing any sudden eruption,
Maneuvering through endless manipulation
Scanning for one perfect creation
That will bring about final completion,
My heart is but a perception
To an ultimately intimate emotion.