I might drench the writings in spite,
So cold it slithers through the air and freezes light,
So bright that it slips through the Sun's grasp and shows it might,
So vicious it will slice your soul to shreds.
The p s e u d o narcissist,
My great antagonist.
Afraid to transgress, the vain tend to regress
And I can't digress,
Look into my eyes,
Not around the eyes,
Not through them.
For if you see what I see,
You might feel as though you grew them.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
blinking from who-knows-how-far,
holding captive all our eyes,
muse for all our lullabies.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
how I wonder what you are.
Twinkle, twinkle, Milky Way,
cosmic star of cabaret,
filling up our eyes at night,
making moonlight shadows bright.
Twinkle, twinkle, Milky Way -
what a vision you display.
Twinkle, twinkle, galaxy,
often do I think of thee,
hurtling through both time and space,
pirouetting out of place.
Twinkle, twinkle, galaxy -
I wish I were just as free.
The distant hollow of the high mountain pass
swallows the setting sun as it steals away southbound
behind the coastal mountain's tangerine sunset hued silhouettes
Mulberry plashed shadows pointing northward
across the evergreens outstretched dimming,
beneath the waning fade of each fleeting eventide
Sundown ebbing asunder the wafting daylight,
each gloaming of the day, helplessly a moment sooner past,
transfixed further south beyond yesterday's passing azure
The lazy days of summer escape unbounded,
nomadic as the sea I've seen sail away before;
evanescent as the beauty of the bloom summer days beheld
and the memory of the fragrance they exhale
The nebulous weight of the gravity is consciously denied
by the truths a human heart beholds
A moment’s epiphany afflicts like a rogue wave in a calm sea;
the only thing my heart ever wanted remains out of reach
Everything my heart needs consciously surrendering
to the poignant passing moment's beauty,
the falling sun at distance sets more suddenly now
Lost in the undeniable certainty
life's imminent season's change
Eyes drawn stubbornly from presence to a sky so far away,
knowing there'll be no restitution for the welling sense of loss...
A bitter sweet song mummers in the silence of the absorbing spell,
summer's sun stained pages of watermarked soul scribbles,
time tattooed reparation for the indelible ache
of a harsh grey winter loneliness
Perhaps too familiar, this whelming Déjà vu
that tears my soul; that tugs at these roots
but cannot sever their sacred grasp
But for now, eyes fixed to the sun's inevitable tightening tether
to wear weary each fraying thread's impending break hence
Each sunset leans a deeper angle southward
as it slips down through the firwood shadows;
illuminating other faraway latitudes
far beyond the distant horizon skies
The preordained continuum unfolding what will be ...
someone you used to know ... September 11, 2017 ... 7:30 PM
An angel sits above my head
and spreads her gentle wings over
my tormented and tireless dreams.
The battleground that is my bed
she calmly silences, her
kisses cooling stifled screams.
My angel knows my dark inside,
for she was with me from the start.
How fitting is the irony;
She was the me I tried to hide.
But something changed within my heart,
and now my demon saves me.
We bleed the same, we breathe the same, we hurt the same, we hope the same
Some seem to try their hardest to tear this world apart
I try to show love, give love, live love, be love and bring the world together
Some choose to see what divides us
I choose to see what unites us
Some would see the world on fire
I would see our hearts on fire
Some would seek to change another
I would seek to understand my brother
Some might say all hope is lost
I might say we are lost and search for where hope is found
Some might feel only rage and hate
But I feel that peace and love will dominate
Some might believe that I'm a dreamer or a fool
But I believe that hope and dreams will never be uncool
Some might wonder and ask why should I care?
I wonder how they don't see it everywhere
The sheen from my curtains
as I look out my window
remind me of the blindness of closed eyes.
What happens when you open them?
You discover that things look much different
than you had thought
behind the sheen of the curtains
and the small openings in the blinds.