Well I was perturbed by the falseness of what I
lingered in,
             I was shunned,
                        labelled the banshee of life.
The stench blistering their motions of existence.
I was life where the afterlife lingered perpetually.  

My name was lunar regent, and I was alive in
the abyss of deaths veil, all that were around me
were but e
                   c
                     h
                        o
                          e
         ­                   s of what clung to this plain
of existence, but echoes can scream in silence.

I was more than this once, once seems so long ago.
Dying of memories degradation, I wasn't giving up.
I sold my home, I'm only in my 40's. To young to be
food of the earth, breath needed to be tasted in my mind.

They explained that I had to die to live? cryogenic dreams,
subtle name I reflected on. It had come a long way since those
days freeze dried people, oxygenated gel, you had to breath it
in drowning but living, a droplet of death descended then......

Awoken by voices or what I conceived as such?
I was in street??
           was this, no it couldn't be!
This was the street outside of where I just was.
The affliction in my chest was killing me,
glancing at my hands I was existent, I pinched, it hurt?

Looking around I say or thought I saw people, but they
weren't corporeal, they were faded. I could see their
features but when they shifted it was like stone thrown in
a  puddle and I think I'm the stone rippling on there shores.

The atmosphere became static, agitation voiced in their
stance. Some tethered to the crest of my existence were
pulled towards me like a black hole exerting its force,
I just stood static as they were extinguished within me.

Like snow flakes falling around me, I could feel the pain of
there departing, as each flake became cinders of reality.
Eroded memories versed in my mind as each ember
relinquished its torment within me, I was a collage of pain.

**To Be Continued.....

Reflections invisible, O self, eternal, rising forever high,
Wings of Justice, Wings of Darkness, in ether, forever fly,
At any age at any stage,if Kindness is our roots, Heaven's our Ally.
Light in-divisible, seeing both just and evil, forever reflecting in the sky,

Time forever passing, Eternity contain both truths and lies,
Evil time shared, Of all truth beware: Illumined Minds cry,
For a Caring Heaven, Watching all men. A Mighty Mirror in the sky,

reflective and cool, all men were once fools, yet successful when they try,
Be yourself, Love yourself till death, enlightenment comes in time...

someone dies, A Soaring flame, now becoming wise,
an image imprinted, now in the Mighty mirror ...
forever watching from the sky.

I've seen fish swim underwater
and turtle heads peek over
and smelled leaf mildew
under blue tarp's dew.

I've sat watching my mother
knitting-in-the-round
as she watched TV
buxom and warm
(whose warm embraces)
won and lost my father
who accepted having children - not his (or hers)
raised them, fed them, sent them to school
and in the end
left.

I listened to punk
and tried to drum to it
then watched TV
and slept on the couch
and woke in a sweat
and kept my head down
and fell into bed.

just like my dad
who ate with us
then drank enough to fall asleep
sitting in his La-Z-boy
head bent to chin
half smoked cigar, half ash, half a glass  

someone who knows him
can't explain.

I love my wife
and see her
and really see who she is
who when her father died
my friend too
knowing his soul was alive
placed the phone by his side
for me to say goodbye

and that was really the kindest
thing a person could do - has done
it is her love that saves me.

and in the wing
and on the shore
and in the plains
where Indians store
the living pines as tall as mine
lifting birches - children's lashes
lay running away
towards me in the dark.

The dream herein then is to die before they catch you.
To pass in your sleep, fading in new seas
of physical complications and credit debt;
to die before someone breaks you.
To get hit by something so large,
you'll have to call it "God".
For some, before their liver punches out,
and their bodies turn shades unintended.
Epilogue, and the bank takes back the house.
Your day job doesn't skip a beat.
Your art goes unnoticed.
Your clothes go to charity.
Your mattress goes to the curb.
Not a single cloud to sit in
and observe, how bodies rot,
but lives dissolve.
More like salt than alka-seltzer,
unless you have more enemies
than I.