Crème brulee, a careless mind,
singeing, burning albeit caramelized
like a politician never normalized,
crawfish should never be apologetic
there's an avaricious  food chain
in there somewhere,
gun shot without hardly knowing
right from wrong
conceal that  powder trail
dig down to Bayou.

No more long stares
spent phenol syringes fresh on the streets,
barbiturated ruffians riddled,
denizens lost into this killing machine,
over dosed on Laudanum yesterday's ***** with temerity to spare,
turns tricks down
tomorrow someone laugh and high kick her,
those new Barista Gangsters , their marketing strategy
stretches the mind,
enough to **** a healthy Ox.
Lean close and hear
this requisitioned block is a pleasure dome
suitable for gilded beautification.

Learn to go to a different place.
Learn to read eyes and give space.
Build and sleep. Drink and eat.
It is your words that make me speak.

(heart)

Camping; facing the wind.
Feeling all too safe; sleepwalking
                                    (now and then)
There's something to be said about a foundation.
(a strong one)
and there's something to be said about a dedication
to a flimsy one.
A road trip or an expedition?
A day dream or a premonition?
Take baby steps (toward big steps)
Take what you want (need) from this and (life) everything.
Smirk and scoff when you're smirked (and/or) scoffed.
Biting your tongue (off) now;
not sleeping at all somehow.
Coffee brain like a crack ******* flame.
                                       (do not condone)
Unwind your sanity to keep hunkered down
in what is real and more full-heartedly genuine
than any other known human experience.
(live)
        (die)
               (get read about)

Endlessly onward winds the road
Dimmed by amazing mist o' grey;
Blindly I struggle 'neath my load
Yearning for some radiant day.

What terrors lurk beyond the bend,—
Horrors enough to break my heart?
And yet may I some peace impart,—
We shall n'er pass this way again.

Because for thee so great my love
Let me thy heavy sorrows bear
And palliate each strife and care;
My sacrifice a token prove.


~Hilda~

Lavender rose, thy petals broken,
So hap'ly crushed beneath careless feet.
Damask perfume breathes melody sweet
From thy bruised heart a weeping token.

Upon thoughts so drear my spirit dwells,
Shaken with guilt and hopeless despair;
Mourning to know harsh words and grim cares
Break cherished ones to death's angry knells.

No more able to shout defiance
Of their wild laughter or moods forlorn
When once from our grasp the rose be torn,
Instead of clamour - empty silence.

**~Hilda~

Sometimes when ev'ning lamps are ebbing low
And all the earth lies hushed in solemn sleep
Within my lonely heart there burns a glow,
As lengthening shadows about me creep.

My weary glance falls o'er the dismal room
Where with rapturous eyes I seem to see
Beyond thick cobwebs, dust and direst gloom
A merry host of friends-my own library!

Worn musty books on shelves from olden days,
Brittle pages yellowed by hands of time,
Illuminating night with gladsome rays,
Lifting my bleak spirit to realms sublime.

Trooping merrily before my rapt gaze
Into flick'ring lamplight I watch them come,
Quaint men and ladies of forgotten days;
Golden laughter echoing in my home.

Into my eyes they smile, murm'ring with grace
Aerial speech they blithely chat with me,
They seem to belong to another race
Wakening in my heart sweet melody.

Dying lamplight sputters and they are gone.
Vanished! I stare about but find I none
Save a drowsy thrush flutes with hush of dawn
Only myself in the parlour alone.

~Hilda~