Oh learned friend where did you go?
t'wards heavens peak beneath the snow
to bury your heart atop a mountain  
where bitter wars had once raged
there many men were also slain
a battle yourself had been engaged
in loves fair and fortuitous name
hurry not to claim a maidens hand
for though beautiful the pursuit
all is and will render to the land
and any requests silenced like mutes
for if words can no longer be spoken
and the ink of quills runneth dry
then hearts will no more be broken  
nor can such lips utter another lie
only sweet truth radiates from being  
as will loves voice finally be heard
for all that remains is the seeing
of God's unadulterated word.

The silence it deafens me
with violence they threaten me
to carry me off to an asylum
unless I can provide them
with an ulterior motive
till I hand in my notice
relinquish the chains upon my bed
the fiendish brain inside my head
deviously plotting my own demise
take leave from this place to warmer tides
bathe my body beneath calmer skies
naked like the day I drew breath
naked as I stare upon death
one hand holding a crooked scythe
the other beckoning to me, my life
did you forget to count the die?
or forgo the countless lies
that made the Countess cry
neither man nor mystery could change her path
so it's left to me to rearrange the past
jigsaw pieces scattered upon my pillow
connecting dots to draw the willow
who could forget the weeping widow
that cried herself to sleep.

words at most
are sign posts
never touching
what's real
minds watching
yearning to feel
and at least
the beasts
of burden
I'm sorry
i beg your pardon
i didn't mean those words
that cut to the bone
the words said in anguish
the words that you moan
love has its own language
that communicates by touch
you speak to me
you tell me so much
the words I weave
are a cry for help
please don't leave
this is what I felt
fault lines through and through
cracks in my sentences
words no longer the glue
the endless relentlessness
of thoughts
circling like sharks
they haunt
my deepest parts
the weakest heart
pumping out words
of dread
this is what I said
you said
the words that line our bed
sleeping on novels
we are apostles
of language
tell me how you manage
all your words
how do you discard them
with such ease
no gratitude
no need
your smile
sells more
empty words
than I could ever write
I'm never right
how could I be
when words are all I see
so please
use your lips
to silence my sentences
wrap your tongue
around my words
i promise you some
you've never heard.

She was the Rose in my heart
and the thorn in my head
for her it did bloom
for her I have bled

When she no longer shines
and tears no longer water
the heart it begins to die
the Rose it starts to wither

One day she will rise
but when nobody knows
then she shall shine again
and my heart will be a Rose

They say talking to yourself is a sign of madness, but who cares what they say no one else can hear them.

a man cannot live on bread alone
nor upon his enemies bones
the marrow of which seldom makes
a feast in which he can partake
the flesh and blood
of his fellow kin
are formed from mud
and infused with sin
planted in the soil his feet
to which Apollo waters
and the master beats
on to the slaughter
hand in hand
and eye for eye
until we can't stand
until we all die
until we all die