#tread
The peak just vague in clouds, yet
fails to tame hikers' wild hearts.
On the fragment of petrifaction, I
saw my own beauty reflected.
Amidst the dusty wind, I
heard my inner voice echoed.
Footprints on shortcuts transform treads to tracks
“Hi!”
Golden gale tore the still moss
Yet shallowed the brown might
“Thank you!”
Stamps lull taken steps into gone
“Cheers!”
Sheer lines
“You’re close!”
Grey clouds settled on the peak
For no up-looking eyes to glance
“Hi!”
As if the small has always been the great.
On mountains edge sun shines grace,
without looking back a wild rabbit ran away.
Greetings connecting the towering mights
adorned the mountain with resounding sights
that transcended the “Hi!”s
Not upon
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 2:49 AM UTC
~for Jonathan Larson (2)~
~~~~
*where poets dare to tread
knowing the jeopardy to
themselves when their truths
are outed by the light shedding
come the morning’s birthing,
my ending unwritten,
the methodology unknown* (1)
<•>
the tabulations final sum
identified by a =
couplet doublet line
underlining, undermining,
tho the sign indeterminate,
pos or neg,
worse yet maybe,
zero sun-shiny outed,
well,
rue-sighing
must be one of but just
them three tri-bipolar optionalities
the script unwrit
the possibilities vast,
alone nursing home,
an empty dull
barely furnished,
studio apartment
an unnoticed blah, blah blah;
that’s ok
there will be no vast array,
conclave of family & friends,
his stateless status
formed by a choice reenforced by time,
a man chose a solitary tilt,
till it
was a deathly rigid reality factual,
free willed
~~
the irony sweetbitter,:
he who loved love
sometimes writing wrinkles
of only love poetry
but was
stumped
by its consequences continual
&
stumbled
in and out, deep or not at all ,
but only periodic,
alternating decades from
age ninteen
his leavings will be
minimal,
his trail,
dusted under,
and his sense of wonderment
at the atomic elemental
extant and yet undiscovered,
is where will live his
only wisps of his whispers,
heard ‘pon the backs
of rushing to nowhere
guest gusts of
canyon winds
of his york;
city of naissance
do not protest
nor deviate with debate,
the future unpredictable
and yet curved hewn from,
made from straight block stone
of absolute clarity
of speckled Barre gray granite
~~
mistake this not
for bewailing,
catlike caterwauling,
ever even the bitters,
of short-lived
the in~between now
and resting place finale
indeterminate,
~~
but follow a path of words,
an Appalachian Trial
roving through forest & civilization,
multiple states,
safe and dangerous
worldly, wormwood wordfuls
all jumble uttered simultaneous
<>
so we dare to ask out loud,
will I die in dignity,
the answer a stale prequel
question obvious answered
in his heritage-styled genes,
with another wink
of a question;
what is dignity?
~~
alone, surrounded by
no one,
matters not,
headstone irrelevant
for this good morning
of cherishing
words and tunes,
adding a line
here and there,
is dignity enough,
and this,
well known to him,
within his collapsing vein's depths,
so the answer
smooth planed and plain:
***This,
this is dignity
one more time,
one more winding
spiraling downwards
uplifting
poem***
and a
never ending~never the less
&
nevermore
forevermore
satisfactory
answer
Mar 2, 2025
Mar 2, 2025 at 6:00 AM UTC
I used to be hues of yellow,
Green, blue, purple, and red.
With the sky as my soul
Feeling vibrant and bold
Like the stories I spun in my head.
A girl made of stars
Is bound to burn out
If her light can no longer be fed.
Learned the rules, learned the game,
Then I scrapped my old ways,
Sinking in water that I used to tread.
Your face was a charcoal portrait,
So I touched it to just see you smile.
But I smudged you all up and I’m covered in gray,
And the light, it retreats when I’m in the sun’s rays,
And I feel like the night everyone wishes was day—
But I take a deep breath.
And I find that old spark.
Just to realize that it never even went away.
May 13, 2024
May 13, 2024 at 2:14 PM UTC
The same rose, still ablaze scorching red,
A ****** from realms yet untread,
That unfolds upon the ancient, earthen bed—
But heed the thorn; this way one cannot tread.
Every morning the nightingale sings her song,
Leaps into melody, ere the day grows long.
Down the moon’s open eye, once strong,
To unlock the door, one must belong.
In the quietude, beneath the moon’s aged grace,
Maybe lies a key forged in shadow,
The sun slides down, lights a candle at a silent pace.
Who claims this boon, who dares to embrace,
Must know the rose’s fire, the nightingale’s chase.
Apr 24, 2024
Apr 24, 2024 at 9:07 PM UTC
We, these wing'd
Wicked things
Filth and fiends
Fearless and free
Terrors that soar
Waking you
From fevered
Dreams
Mayhem
On a whim
Fugitive as
The wind
Christened
In sin
Do you truly
Know your
Wolves within?
We are you
The madness
That lurks
Within your
Deepest animal
Mind; begging
To be free
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 1:37 PM UTC
Take all your taxes and see if you aren't able to get more done with them
Then those that represent you.
Do those that do, really represent you
Or do they resent you?
And secretly tread with scorn?
If you truly want change, seek an office
Grab a gavel
Do your part
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 9:29 PM UTC
A voice is heard often
Like a lion roaring in a den.
He wants to come out,
Roar once again, slake his drought.
But another voice is heard again,
It rebukes the lion and closes the den.
This voice sounds like that of a man
Who wants to do all, but has no plan.
The day isn’t too far
When the tumult will turn into a war.
Face of lion with a body of man, I see,
None is ready to set the other free.
This war of the voices begins with the sunrise,
And ends at the moment I close my eyes.
This is the way where monsters tread,
Head’s alive, while the heart’s dead.
Dec 26, 2019
Dec 26, 2019 at 9:51 AM UTC
I'll never walk in your footsteps.
because you walked
that path and it was personal to you.
I may shadow you, as I take wonderment
in the delicate breath of each moment
you trod upon the soil.
Showing that for some, we will never tread
upon others imprints.
But we will not look above, but always
below to see that some paths
are worth following,
stepping side by side to others life.
Make a path anew, follow the footsteps
of others you look down too.
But every path is unique, no path trodden
is ever the same in life.
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 5:35 PM UTC
It's not a wonder the night is more peaceful than the day.
All the loudsnout pigs have hit the hay, and the wolves may come out to paw and play, pale fur shining under the moonlight, without a sinning sunbeam's glare to darken his gay prouncing.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 11:23 PM UTC
With each day I tread carefully and each day my foot winds up in my mouth...
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 7:57 PM UTC
Softly treads winter,
Her quick bear hug exudes lust,
On hold for an year!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 6:29 AM UTC
The path i tread has many unknown particulars
The good choices appear in only perpendiculars
I find at times I get trapped in the luring circulars
I seek the butterfly but i come across confused caterpillars
The path is flooded with sad, intrusive manipulars
Some are merely spectaculars
Whilst some dare to strike your jugulars
...I wish to find spiritual teachers but I'm surrounded by lost seculars
I peer and search even using my invented binoculars
But this path i tread has very few, calm examplars
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
There are so many soft spaces in my head that tell me
to be gentle, to tread lightly on foreign ground;
but they do not realize that where I am going,
there are no land mines waiting at every tread of feet, no
dark things hurling themselves out of corners to
devour vulnerability.
Where I am going, the world will break open beneath
the weight of what I have to say,
the world will listen and
crumble.
Where I'm going, there are no land mines and I do not need
to map the spaces between here and your doorstep
I have found the perfect remedy for all of the sickness
this place and time causes you,
I have found that the only ailment worth noting is
what's in our own heads and mine
will be full of sharp jagged things before the month
is over.
It is only self defense and a reason
to learn fighting skills, but I feel
that the way the world sharpens our teeth for us is a necessary
part of becoming who we are.
I will put the soft things to sleep now;
I do not need them where I am going.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC
Like the soles of our shoes
We slip and we slide
We tear and we rip
And we leave pieces behind
Like the tread on the bottom
We wear and we tear
We grate and grind
Until nothing is there
Let us turn time back
When our feet did not stumble
When our shoes stood firm
And the path did not fumble
Let us mend the tears
Let us replace the tread
And once again stride
With passion ahead
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 10:00 PM UTC
The graveyard
had been redesigned
The walkways had
been realigned
The biggest change
At least to me
Was the signs now out
For all to see
Five short words
that we all read
Not keep off the grass
Don't tread on the dead
Genius,
You'd have to say
Don't walk where we
The dead all lay
This sign,
It said it best
Don't tread on the dead
Let them all rest
Keep on the path
Respects may be paid
Just stay off the grass
One request made
The simplest sign
The words stay in your head
Not...keep off the grass
Just...Don't tread on the dead
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
I'm the moon, one that shines
I breathe the seams on the Earth's faulty lines.
I'm not crossed, I'm alright
I met a girl that makes summer seem trite.
There were none so divine, it could take midnight
And turn the world daylight. I'm the moon, one that shines
She is the black queen in the checkmate that's mine.
I reap the hours
And the sleep is still coming.
I count the days down until the minutes stop running.
I am the king, she's my bride, I conquer worlds while
We we conquer all time.
She is the night, I'm to come, we climb the wind
On the hurricane's lungs, count of 3, piggies hide
These bad wolves have come to eat you alive.
There are some so divine, that hours laugh
And the sun forgets to rise.
That is her, so alive. I am the moon
That brings the oceans to life.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
I am lonely in thoughts
And practice
Like sport without training
And I will die knowing less than I have learned
Transparent in form & nature
Giving birth to myself in ways my mother couldn't
On stumbling ground
With no grace to be lost or found
I tremble in my humble footsteps.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
if i can't sleep beside you i don't want to sleep at all
i'd rather be an orphan in the places where i fall
and i'll continue living like i never had a home
make everywhere i'm going just another place to roam
there's not a single step that i can purposely explain
but all of them collectively are holding fast today
it's not the kind of feeling you could ever even dream
i'm nothing but myself the days i'm nothing like i seem
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC