Red chinstraps
Wet blood, slowly drying in the evening breeze
Folded into wells of clouded waves with vague concentric origin
Closer, a flattened helmet, orange ochre blazing
Sun sinking, stars chasing
Warrior's stratified locks wisp out to vanishing points
Freckles of sputtered bronze
Slowly becoming red
Slowly becoming an omen
Foreshadowing tears to be wept
Horses that lay silent
On the eastern Ural Steepe

My heart is lost beyond the sunset,
To be left in the darkness for eternity.
You are the reason for mine's fate;
For I'd rather leave than to lose my sanity.

Flesh is torn in monotone,
Hairy needles as legs pegs onto white
Sticky string,
Sharp fangs dipped in poison
Sink through flesh and *****
And crush bones with a sting.

It is **** or be killed out there in the nature you worship.
The cruelty adds to the beauty of a deep red sunset.
Vicious waves add to the elegance of an ocean,
So don’t forget  
That while you turn a blind eye to
The things you don’t like,
You tell yourself a half truth
(A good lie),
It is the perspective which alters sight.

Perhaps it’s more comforting to see
The sun as a beacon of light instead of
An orb in cruel fire,
But if you can see both,
Maybe you’ll find hope in hopelessness,
Or you’re humbled by thoughtfulness,
and maybe you’ll see the
Nature of life for what it truly is.

Sophisticated elegance
Pornographic decadence
Psychedelic trip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Hot spots undiscovered
History recovered
Dig in and take a dip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Darkness in the daytime
Sunlight cleans the slime
It's easier to grip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Tales of olden Hollywood
Hangers on and hoods
Changing what is hip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Sophisticated Decadence
Pornographic Elegance
The Chateau for a nip
The past, present and future
Of what is the Sunset Strip

Light has shone, light as death,
Sunset is gathered in fishing nets,
Like a twine of leafy stems.
~The coldest sea is the blood
Of the murdered and aggrieved~
Scaly Autumn of lost fires and dragon plumes,
Lanterns in the fog, graverobbers of the moon,
Light has shone, suckles at the tomb.

Obsidian wind chimes
welcome the crashing waves
as another day exits, slowly
sinking beneath the bay.

Cool waters drenched in
an almost amethyst hue
offer mental reverberations
as I ponder what I am next to do.

Though the sea is but a tide
that ebbs & flows-
repletes & recedes-
her words of wisdom forgo
past the banks of her beaches
& spread a breeze to every corner
of night.

She beckons me within myself;
her deep abyss but a mirror.
Her waters shine in a glimmering splendor
as she makes the path ever clearer.

To leave this shore that raised me
is not a sign of disrespect, but a show
of honor. My broken levees have her
to thank & for that, I call her mother.