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michael t brice Aug 2013
turning

turning

turning

slowly turning
like a corkscrew
spiraling ever deeper into madness
perched high above the room
watching the butterflies
flit from bloom to bloom

If I close me eyes
will darkness come
If I slip from this conscious  state
will peace enrapture me
michael t brice Mar 2013
today, the winds blow cold
tomorrow the sun may shine warm on my face
exposing yet another line
just a small part of growing old
growing old,
but, hasn't that been the objective
michael t brice Oct 2012
Dearest Brother,

I took a walk today. As I strolled along the trail I admired the leaves that hung aloft
with their colors of brillent reds, yellows, orange, pale green, and light browns.
The fallen leaves crunched beneath my feet as I climbed ever higher up the
winding trail.

I stopped. I shat in the woods.

I walked on.

I was lulled to a peaceful bliss by the birds chirping as they sang their last
songs of the season, while a soft breeze tickled across my skin.

I saw a grey black puff among the leaves that I gently nudged with my toe.
It was a tuft of fur that had loosed and raised away from the carcass of a mole,
whose body had been eaten away by maggots.

I walked on.

As the winds blew and the leaves fell, I was forced to notice the aching in my
bones. Like a dagger stabbing into my heart I realized that the summer of our
youth was, forever gone.

I walked on.

Consuming with my eyes and ears the beauty of the autumn leaves and the
melodies of the lovely little song birds, I pondered the thought that as this
season is nearing the end, so too am I.

And yet, I walked on.

How soon  the sweet little song birds will have flown away to a warmer place.
The trees that stand so tall and proud wearing their colorful leaves like cloaks
of royalty will soon stand naked and cold surrounded by rot and decay.

So my dearest brother, if by chance upon this trail you should trod, and find
that I too have fallen amongst the debris of the season, roll me over, turn
my eyes to the sky.

And walk on.

Let the crows pluck the eyes from my skull, and upon my flesh the maggots
feast. What bones are not carried away by the beasts may they remain to be
swallowed by the growth of the  next season.

For I,   will have walked on.
michael t brice Oct 2012
My Beloved My best friend
I will love you till the end

When my flesh is gone
rotted from my bones
My love, the veil it will transcend
I will love you till the end
michael t brice Mar 2013
beard absorbs tears
pondering the years
feeling all alone
far from home


friends come
friends go
lovers turn to foe


faces pass
without a glance
strangers
one and all


I retreat
find solace
asphalt and brick
traded
for trees and grass


far from home
clouds gone
sky filled with
twinkling stars
no sounds
of rushing cars


flames dance
embers fly
somewhere into the night sky

— The End —