Fierce in the grasses  .  .  .
So loud your wild yellow mane,
  .  .  .  Roaring in the sun.

In youth, to myself I thought,
'Is true love bound in some far away place?'
I flew off— picturing dreams to be had.
Ah, so much in books and on film I saw
And so I settled my gaze
Westward to love.

And I met a girl who knew,
Trades of skin which came and quickly fell,
Of longings true it was not to be had.
Ah, so much in books and on film I saw,
So I left her one glad day,
For we did not love.

Then came my only, true one,
The coolest rains held in longest summer,
But soon even bliss in a shower ends
And words to eyes but stories, whims.
Ah, so many pictures I made
In a camera without film.

Soldiers sown in the field
And bodies usually are the yield
Bodies of strangers , friends and
colleagues
Leaving survivors with long lonely
monologues
Rendering life without taste or feel.

In this clash of elephants
The casualties include animals ,
civilians , even infants.
That is to say but the least .
Vultures gather in circles to feast
On the remains of once beautiful
living beings .

Where then is the profit of war ?
When rebuilding cost so much
more
Both humanly and materially .

My fingers have learned
how it feels
to get burned.
When your every
“I’m Sorry”, left a scar,
deep and unearned.

The words on your lips
whispered the truth
while you slept.
Leaving me no longer wondering
why you smiled
as I wept.

My heart finds itself smiling
into the numbness
of your vacancy.
Your memory’s grown silent
and is now dead
to me.

I wanted to
Reset
beauty
And surface
For once
Start over
Not minding public
opinion
Cut it down
to its roots
To allow life
To grow
Anew
In its place

"Once upon a midnight", ghostly,
Partied many, dead ones mostly.
Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly,
Black fanged werewolves gorged, engrossedly.

In the bone yard, drab and squalid,
Apparitions (staring stolid
Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly),
Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid.

Fiendish eyes shone, light and sparkly,
Ghouls and demons danced, so darkly.
Maggots munching mush unsightly,
Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly.

Fetid flesh oozed, flowing freely,
Through the crypt doors, cold and steely.
Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely,
Ebon serpents slithered eely.

As it happens, all too often,
Zombies dimly closed the coffin –
Ra, the sun god, rising slightly
Hunger pangs were soon to soften.

If you ask, I’ll tell you blankly,
When you’re feeling dark and dankly
Come to where this happens nightly.
They’ll enjoy the feast, quite frankly...

;-)

Apologies to EAP