Walking in the pale evening dusk,
as the world slowy turns to it's darkened self.

The last Sun rays seeping from the sky.

The world should naturally fade to black.

But our artificial glow comes to light,
To keep us up all night.

Beginning at the dusk of yesterday.
There was never even a hint of when it happened
Or what it destroyed.
What countless minds had it shattered
Our feelings had it toyed.
We felt the earth rumble at half past twelve.
Every second that went by vaporized another city.
And when the final tree fell down
I felt the last of my hope drown.

A thunderstorm of warheads out past my window
Made me turn away from the flashes of white
When the sky turned red
“How many”, I thought, “were dead?”
The books on my shelves turned to gasoline
As the words on the pages
Ignited at the scene
This poem doesn’t have to be consistent
To deliver the problems that are ever so existent
When two boys cry from two different sections of the Earth
Which one is more sad about what they have or don’t?
What God is up there? What man is the director of this
Mad play that is reality? This insane musical
That nobody could ever dream of
For all I see are the fireballs cascading over the land
As the Big Brothers in charge stick
Their heads further in the sand
Let’s leave it all behind
Life has another plan in mind.

Chalk dust dries on the ground
Where children’s games have once made their sound
The child has grown.

I’ll open my mouth again
To make another disaster work
Worms spew forth to the screen
From my body where they lurk.
Why do I still write? It doesn’t make sense
Maybe it’s the venom from my body I must cleanse
As time ticks down from the clock to the floor
Still as a revolution outside continues to roar
The people kick down my door
See my own self at war
My lust wanting more
Your body that I adore
What do I have to pay for?
This service of which I swore
That I can pull whenever I want out my **** drawer
What’s the score?
It’s one to four
A pipe of dependence of which I’ll soar
So high up in the clouds that thunder and pour
These poems have become such a mental chore
It’s always such a grueling bore
To commit to oneself of what seeps out of every pore.

Do I deserve a spot in Heaven
Next to you?

Jim left home one sunny day
To take a trip to big L.A.
He got up to walk
But stood ‘round to talk
And he missed his flight from Norway.
Jim was rather mad
So he yelled at a lad
Who promptly did tell him off
So when Jim went to scoff
In his face did he cough
And Jim instead went to Riyadh.
Jim was so blue
He thought what to do
And looked in the handy travel guide
That told him to hide
And then Jim had died
In the ocean that the plane had fell to.
Let this be a lesson to Jim
Whose life was always grim
He beat up his wife
And stabbed her with a knife
Now look what has become of him.

When I cry softly out my left eye
I suddenly see faintly out my right
In the darkness of which I gently float
Inside the silent abyss of where I lie
A flash of illuminating light
Followed by a lovely music note.

She asked me one day if I was alright.
I told her that a poet has to have a disturbed mind.
She asked me why.
I told her that I was still trying to find out.
I told her I loved her.
She smiled and said she loved me too.
Too bad it was all a fantasy.

It’s all too much
Shout it loud
It’s all too much
To have done as such
As to have died five times
And still I am seen as living.

The dance begins.

Together on the linoleum dance floor
Do the dressed fancy humans move
From a species that sparked fire from flint
To new modern cowards with flavored mouths of mint
From the music that spells the ending of all
Inside this prophetic construction held within a ball

Inside the snowy tundra of the room
Where the snowy figures dance their doom
Does the ice freeze the plaster on the ceiling
Everyone dances; nobody feels a feeling
With their arms ‘round each other in a ballroom style
The people’s faces are straight, there is not even a smile
The fire in the hearth has extinguished long ago
Shed some light on the blizzard that you know

The summer in my brain always combats the winter in
My heart.

It’s so easy to think you’re in love
How long until you meet the souls up above?
How long until you go stir-fry mad?
How long until you don’t know why you’re sad?
How long until this dance of ours
Finally reaches its final hours?

I never want it to end.

Pause the war.
Take me back to before
When the world was pure.
When the meadows of the countryside
Were available for all to run through
When humans lived together, and died together
Not in times of bloodshed, or carnage
But when people lived their whole life
As what they wanted to be.
When you and I could love each other
And not be disturbed by society
Is it a fantasy world?
Did it ever exist?
Or am I being an optimist?
Human; the only species to ****
Itself.

Un-pause the war.
See the harsh infinite gore
That stains every door.
Where the swamps of the marshlands
Have bodies swimming through it
Where humans gag on tar and hope
Where they know they’re at the end of their rope.
Not where people sing songs and dance
Not where there’s music and love and romance
But where people lived their whole life
As what they were forced to be.
Where you and I were separated
And be imprisoned by society.
Is it real life?
Or is it possible to dodge the knife?
Questions forever locked
In the chasms of a city.

And yet, peace and war are synonymous.

I was the child. He laughed and smiled not knowing of the world.
I was the robot. It never felt a thing.
I was the story teller. He failed at recreating his own sin and misery.
I was the runner. He never won his own race.
I was the lover. He did not succeed.
I was the lust-er. He nearly drowned in it.
I was the Marxist. He was fooled too easily.
I was the Creature. He still has the demons.
I was the hippie. He couldn’t make peace with himself.
I was the poet.
I now just am.

Oh, the yellow bricked road.

(Countdown. Ten.)

Dorothy saw the scarecrow
And tried to help him out

(Nine.)

She saw him bend down low
He was alive, no doubt.

(Eight.)

He stumbled here and there
To gather about his wits

(Seven.)

She laughed and flipped her hair
And helped him with his fits.

(Six.)

They got along real well
And became the best of friends

(Five.)

At the city where Oz does dwell
They hope to greet fine ends.

(Four.)

And at the city it seems
They met their wildest dreams

(Three.)

But in a sudden flash
Emerald City fell with a crash

(Two.)

So together they danced with his hands on her hips
In the mushroom cloud of the blazing apocalypse.

(One. We have liftoff.)

Dawn was born in the beginning
Dusk born at the end
Only to circle back to dawn
For dusk to be born again

Circles, cycles turn and die
Then turn around to wave
Morning awakes to live
While night sleeps in her grave

Know the end is not the end
Only a simpler way to phrase
The birthing of a dawn
The beginning of future days.

extravagant dusk,
spreads gold dust over beach sands;
waves clamor for share!

The afternoon sky was turning yellow
Into the dark,
and past the warm.
Sometimes it’s pink,
As sweet as the cotton candy,
Sometimes it mixed with gray,
Because it was wanting to cry.

Sometimes I can describe us up there
Smiles, laughter, and happiness,
Even my tears, touched as well as broken-hearted

This land is still the same,
If we stand and look up,
Right above your head,
It's still the same sky,
The same longing,
And I hope also the same feeling

Distance may separate the body,
but the sky can bring the soul closer
Stare at the sky at dusk
make me relax,
Realize that you
still down there,
smiling
somewhere,
under the same sky.

Eternal circle, fatal rhyme
Golden new and golden old
With blue skies in-between
Or storms

Hearts a-flower
flaming
flung
Search for love's long twining song
Hoping past the sight-edge
For a blue sky up above.

Rising into darkness
And turning night to day
Rushing sunrise rushes

Sheer delight of transformation
Flying headlong to its death

Futility
Such beauty all in vain
And yet

Sunset skies from far away
Most beautiful of all
Fading day
Yielding light
Soft within the brilliance of age.

Better far the end than not at all.
Love's lispings, too.

In the ocean, when I sink
Pull me up, but not out
Let me learn how to swim,
stay with me patiently
till our skin wrinkles.

On the battlefield,
let me fight,
for I don’t need a knight in shining armor to save me,
but an army to fight along with me.

Let me explore the depths of the ocean and cave,
Let me see the shades of emotions;
from dawn to dusk that reflects on the sky.

Let me sway with the breeze
and sail turbulent waves.
let me be, but don’t let me go.

Ashes to Ashes
And Dust to Dust,
Passion and passion
From dusk to dusk,
I wake up gasping,
your name on my lips,
Between hazy dreams,
Settling between my hips.
Where some nights I writhe
Because I’m Wound far too tight,
In your arms, I move
Because it feels far too right.
If I had any sense
Of self-preservation,
I would release myself
From this sinful gratification,
But even in the safety of solitude,
All my morals neatly strung,
The first thing I crave
Is your taste on my tongue.
It matters not what I know in my brain,
In my head,
Dreams bring your most depraved needs
To your bed.
Night is a strange time,
The space between day,
But not even sunrise,
Keeps the darkness at bay.
The longer I wait,
Delaying my fall,
The faster I’ll expect you
To pick up my call.