thorns in the thicket of thought and
thistles of the heart's crown makes a bitter tea
which she pours thin for her porcelain dolls
with plaster-of-paris cakes 'n' cookies neatly adorned
with christmas colors daintily painted in blood and tears
the bard speaks the rueful tale with cliffhanger pauses
and excited joyous moments enclosed in the
crisp images of winter wonderland
the bard is a figure of such stories
long white beard and eyes that twinkle like stars
but now that the tale is told
the song sung.....
the bard retires his joyful face in his private room
with its smoky mirrors
and clutter of memorials to his younger days
his words once on the powdered lips of elegance
now are the dirt stained humble man's bread and butter
they were grand stories
they were adoration's to velvet goddesses....
but now they are but thorns in the thicket of thought
picturesque visions of nubile nymph's only sadden the old man
the bard packs away his joyful face
it is for the readers whom he loves
the road weary eyes linger upon her lace
she was a beautiful moment of summer in his winter life
she's now a sacred image protected by
thorns in the thicket of thought

night is the worst
so easy to believe that it'll never end
try and distract yourself
but the empty room presses in on you
no compromise with the lonely darkness we all carry
no half measures will suffice to rescue you from this living tomb
just please remember me in your darkest hour
just please know me in your hour of need
for my heart is with you always
no miles or years will change
nothing can undo
remember that my hand is always holding yours
remember that i have always loved you
even in your darkness
even in your madness
please remember me
that my heart will never leave your side
and know you have the strength to survive
to see our sunny day once again

he walked slowly through
the dead leaves speaking aloud his poem of the heart
his world was indian summer that day
she had smiled
winter was her walking
so he walked with her
she smiled again

chew on the edges of thoughts you don't want to think
adjust your head to thinking them
so he tried on for size
her sympathetic tears
but he didn't like to see her cry
so she smiled again

he became dysfunctional in his due time
but not even her smile could fix his rusty chain
so she knew she needed a new friend
so she went walking
alone
thinking of his poem in the dead leaves
thinking of indian summer

perhaps it was his love for
the salt and the sea
perhaps upon the desert of waves
he awaited a vision to awaken his dreaming heart
some beautiful illusion
spoken aloud by a drunken bard
let loose his devilishly smooth voice
in the small hours of night...
she was there too
with her loose skin revealed...
she will be tainted by his warm breath
she will bear its teethmarks with voiceless pride
till the end of her days
it was his hot blooded passion spilling its
cruel seed upon her
and she smiled like a young nymph
displayed her shameful state like a peacock strutting
like a wild animal rutting...
except in the night where she held it near her lonely heart
a single dim light in her dark world
she is his love of life incarnate
she is his lust uncluttered by romance
all hot hands groping for pleasures given and received
she is a lean warm soft creature of night
that slips away to sleep
and yet dream still
of his warmth upon her shoulder

her critical thinking gone astray
her tupperware mind seals in the flavor of her intents
nail polish chipped
no ring to show the lay of the land
bright eyed with hints of joys
sunglasses askew
lipstick on her neck
this casual girl
in one brief moment our worlds collide
parking lot of seven eleven
she is a complex song not to be heard
but to be felt with the heart
this casual girl
she unbuttons her shirt
and shows her new tattoo
woven pattern of snakes and flowers
reflection of the mind perhaps
reflection of the casual girl and her inner tears
my heart grips this as she turns to leave
this casual girl
slave to her moment
she must go with the crowd
she must be a popular girl
in that brief moment our worlds collided
she spun like the summer sun free of her tears
she lived for my presence for the first and last time
she desired to speak to me
i never even knew
this casual girl