Autumn bid goodbye,
To new winter's approach.
At a wink of Jack's eye;
Leaves littered tucked,
In cozy blankets snow.
All the rabbits in their hutch,
Chipmunks lodged in logs' hole,
By stag's stern, lest tiny fawns stumble
Catch, on mother doe-
Nary a cardinal ruffled &
Bears rest in slumber;
Till wane of mistletoe

seraph
i saw you yesterday
lounging in the park
i sensed you were sad
but i'm a cynic
i'm not sure how to cheer you up

seraph
you cried
holding your head in your hands
whilst i watched
droplets leave your eye
and i cried too

angel from up high
i'm so terribly sorry
life is so rough
i guess
even in the skies
there's depression enough

Ignorance quashed the feline,
Rashness foiled the canine,
Cowardice cost the equine,
Greed consumes each swine,
Slothfulness traps the bovine,
But me? I'm doin' just fine!

Promies, never to,
The premise of us to part.
Should I ever leave you,
Let being be dashed-
Against black canvas.
Let blood be
A medium of art.

These shackled hands,
Consequence of circumstance
And everything I have entailed.
Perchance, happenstance-
That which we have lived
And all that was not availed.
The fog of brokenness, and ache of loneliness.

Against reality, we rail.

dying is an interesting feeling
i suppose, up till now, ive never seriously considered it
the physical sensation
guess it's cause you never really know how you'll go
it just happens, and it happens
that's it
sometimes its really slow
or very painful
lucky ones go peacefully
and for them, it's all very tranquil
though who has luck

Charred remains, of jungle burned:
Fire steeped, laotian leaves.
Who we lost, in what we earned;
For the love of ******,
Of sweet release.

Korean craters, Mexican invaders, &
The Boxer rebellion.
The sinking of Maine, the panamanian strait;
Meuse–Argonne, inherent freedom

Is there a place, for the peaceable to congregate?
Versailles, Geneva, Nuremberg, Tokyo.
What point to rules are made,
When no one follows them.
Bagram, Mai Lai, Tiananmen, the Chechen genocide

Is it merely in our nature;
To fight, and argue, divide?
We can conquer, but can we conquer
The lust that is
The love of tribe

inside of me a storm rages
inside of me an old man has a stroke
inside the fire blazes
fresh bricks of burning coal

there is emptiness in me
and it fills me up
so much so

i drown everyday
drinking up a cup
of nothing but the old

made of memories
mostly bad, but some good
adding to them each day
naught but rotting wood

and your family
termites
and your friends
pests
and your lover
a lumberer