After school hours, sleepily
Looking down from the window sill
A deep rest in spring wind chill
If I close my eyes
To this brilliant world
Reflected scenery dances still
If I blow a low whistle
Towards the blue sky
Walking becomes a little more spry
Turning my music a little bit down
To listen to the lively corner of town
When I look up with slight rejoice
I hear a distant singing voice
Ah~ Ah~ Ah~
Today begins like any other day
Bathed in the sun slowly drifting away
The most pleasing place to reside
Is here right by your side
Dull clouds early afternoon
A sudden shower in the middle of June
Blue sky peeked out when I arose
Colors arc out accross concrete meadows
The bell chimes when I reach
Out through the window and to the beach
Warm breeze blows through the empty hall
When I looked up I heard you call
Ah~ Ah~ Ah~
Let’s rest into the sunshine
Taking breaths in a comfortable rhyme
We may not speak for very long
Though with just that I feel so strong
My quiet heart echoing true
When I’m here with you

Sometimes I ask myself
when did my thoughts and hopes of blue and green
turn into violet worries, violent dispositions
When did this soul with its empty bookshelf
burn all its unwritten scripts of things yet to be seen
and my steady solace turn into a contradiction

I know what I want in life
when I see my favorite pieces of art
scattered accross the canvas of my solitary nights
my cold fingers once touched it and I can count it on all five
I want to believe that I'd be content with really only a shard
to know my dreams aren't just made of imaginary sights

My open heart drives me
in uncertain directions with clear aspiration, sometimes just insane
but always looking, always wanting, always one heart ahead
If my eyes could only look beyond uncertainty and I'd finally see
a way that goes far and will let me travel along a green country lane
If I could feel as if I'd know why it seems so difficult not to be dead.

In everything that had to be broken and shed
these distant promises on remote and empty shores
For only the contingency of all that could be good and whole
Truly not knowing where this road might have led
and still keep my hands open and reaching and breathe in deeply through all of my pores
let me just find one wholesome and abiding content in this burning library inside my soul

I kissed you because it felt so right
I kissed you because I knew it was wrong
I kissed you because I felt a connection that we both said we lost with our current partners
I kissed you because I knew from the moment I saw you accross the room that you would mean something to me and by something I mean everything
I kissed you because she can't
I kissed you because my undeveloped brain acts too much on emotion and impulsity and not enough on logic
I kissed you because the way the moonlight reflected your face was so beautiful
I kissed you because I couldn't pay attention to what you were saying because I was too focused on your lips and not the words coming out of them
I kissed you because it was the perfect response
I kissed you because the look in your eyes was something I couldn't explain with any words
I kissed you because I can't possibly explain to you how I feel when those sweet eyes meet mine
I kissed you because when I heard that song at work with the lyrics that I no longer remember I knew you were perfect
I kissed you because you have what she doesn't
I kissed you because you deserve to be kissed, actually you deserve much more than a kiss from me
You deserve a Grammy worthy kiss from a scene in a cheesy movie
I kissed you because I hadn't felt those caterpillars in my stomach burst into beautiful butterflies in so long
I kissed you because there wasn't anything else in the world that I wanted more in that very moment
I kissed you because it felt so right

But now it feels so *wrong

I wish...

I wish that I was better with words.

I wish that I was more confident.

The kind of confident that would let me walk up to your door and tell you everything. Tell you everything that goes on inside my head as far as you're concerned.

But I'm not.

So I can't.

But I want to.

I want so badly to tell you that maybe, just maybe, you, are the one.

Not in a Matrix gonna save the world from the machines kind of a way but in the way that real people think of the one. The one that I've been looking for, the one I gave up looking for, the one that I didn't think even existed.

At least not for me.

I want to tell you that I think you may be the one and I want you tell me that you've been wanting to say the same thing.

But you couldn't.

Because you weren't good enough with words.

Because you didn't have the confidence.

Wouldn't that be ironic.

But I'm also scared.

I'm scared that I'll see you and tell you that I think you might be the one and hear you say thats all very nice and you might be my one, but I'm not yours.

And you'd be sorry.

You'd be sorry and you'd mean it because you are kind and you are beautiful. But it wouldn't help.

So what do I do?

Do I risk it? Do I tell you and cross everything and hope and pray that maybe, just maybe, I might be your one too?

Or do I say nothing.

Do I say nothing and just continue to lie here every night the way I have been since I worked out what it was about you that caused you to be in every thought that I have and every dream?

There is safety in saying nothing.

If I don't say anything then you can't say anything bad. You can't say no. You can't say that maybe you don't believe in the one. You can't say that you had your one once and it didn't work out so how can you possibly have another.

I know its crazy, but thats the way you drive me.

And its crazy that you drive me crazy. It's crazy that you've gotten under my skin the way you have. Its crazy that you've gotten under my skin so completely, you're like a tattoo. Like a tattoo in a private place, a hidden place. Like a living breathing tattoo that I carry round with me all the time and I'm the only one that knows that you're there. And I'm glad you're there. I like you there.

So I keep wishing.

Only now I wish that maybe you read poetry and you happen accross this somehow and read it and pick up the phone and say "Hey... stop wishing so much, just kiss me."

I wish.

Over the ravaged battlefield, a pall of death hung fast
I watched in silent horror, as the wounded breathed their last
The screams of bloodied soldiers, echoed down the sodden trench
As vermin ate the flesh of men, unbothered by the stench.

A drizzling rain was falling soft, as darkness slew the day
I knew my life was fading fast, so I began to pray

Oh GOD! Above in heaven, as you look down on this Hell
You see,through this black holocaust, a frightened Sentinel
The time is fast approaching Lord, when we'll meet face to face
And I'll be held accountable, for my actions in this place

No words in mitigation, can excuse the deeds I've done
I'm a product of my nation born to die upon the Somme
Before deaths bullet takes me, when I'm ordered from this hole
I beg you to forgive me and recieve my wretched Soul...

The order came along the trench ''Get ready to attack''
The cold hard hand of terror rested firmly on my back
Down along the frontline, whispered prayers of men grew quiet
While mass extermination waited out there in the night
Each brief second seemed an hour, as I saw my life flash past
Then somewhere in my reverie, the whistle blew at last

That cold hard hand of terror pushed me forward from behind
A burning rage and bloodlust closed the senses of my mind
Rifle shooting deadly sin, over no-mans land I stumbled
The dead of prior battles, in heaps around me,tumbled
A piercing war-cry on my lips, my bloodlust not yet sated
Firing blindly, all the while, the foe he grimly waited

Halfway accross hells quagmire, the flares popped overhead
Casting down an eerie glow on the living and the dead

Caught like running Ghosts of men, by those floating midnight Suns
Fodder for Deaths banquet, silhouetted for their guns
The whine of flying bullets filled the air about my ears
A smell of death, its **** and blood returned me to my fears

Realising our predicament, caught between two stools
Though Death reaped us like fresh grass, we all ran on like  fools
A bullet caught me in the chest, just below my shoulder
I fell upon the barbedwire and felt my blood grow colder
Hanging there, as life ran out, screaming for assistance
I saw myself and comrades, from what seemed a mighty distance

So adrift upon some sea, Life, winding down within me
But Oh! the manner of my Death, a very sad short story
A lad of nineteen summers, I had never loved a wife
Nor done the things I dreamed I'd do in the young days of my life....

My nation called ''We Need You Son'' in nineteen and fourteen
And preached of War and Battle as a bright and shining dream
With words like, Honour, Glory, Pride........ Bravery and Duty
Beguiled my generation by painting Death as beauty....

A message from the government explaining my sad tale
My poor beloved family will soon get in the Mail
Telling lies of sacrifice for our nations worthy cause
BUT NOT RELATING,HOW I DIED OF GOVERNMENTAL FLAWS.....


Written on October 5/2005.. Copyright.Eamonn O'Dowd.

I am from too long grass
that left muted green stains on my knees
From rock gardens overrun with punny yellow snapdragons
which delivered into my care all sorts of fascinating creepy crawlers

I'm from ash grey two by fours
which were all together fun to climb on
but gave nasty splinter when they were mad

I'm from the woodchips and sand
that provided me an elaborate landscape
in which to house my boundless imagination

I'm from the tail of sulfur smoke
that burned white hot through the crisp October Sky
and propelled my rocket to high heaven
or so it seemed to my eger eyes

I am from Thursdays
from green and red rhubarb leaves
and dirt under every fingernail
I'm from hurling half-rotten tomatoes
at the fence accross the ally
and running haphazardly from angry neighbors

I'm from lasagna and jell-o
candels on Christmas eve
and the squirt bottle of water
my only defense against ants

I am from obscure old families
who came over like so many others
and played the ***** in the secret choir loft above the church
I'm from woodwinds and piano strings
and never a silent moment
From reading aloud and reading alone
and from those who did the reading

I'm from the future and the present and the past of a million different stories
And I've always been headed towards
Where I'm from.

looking up for your twinkling eyes
above cloud covers, it's nights like tonight
filled with feelings of indiffence
unsure of my place or if youre missed
silver / white gleam moves accross the sky
in view of steps where i sip on red wine
tommorrow is the begining of another week
i'll search out work, food and a place to sleep
but nights like tonight are lived moment to moment
unsure, but at peace with whatever gets thrown at...
(deep breath)

[Sounds of the "Lumineers" drift accross the yard
... and out into the darkness of the nite
with all thoughts of nothingness creep
and smoke from the last cigarette that sits perched 'tween lips
with glass, half full, dangling from fingertips]

Through the gardens
Head over heels
Over and ahead hills
Time met a forcefield...
"Love Metaphor's Field"
Shall we cross
The lines of the path
Pass pastures
The past matters
It's the path to the present
Pleasance
Now
Is the time
To take the future
A few Daisies at a time
Thier radiance
So similar to the sun
But Sunflowers disagree
To the utmost degree
And they still wave
Peace
The Rose says
Romance is beauty
In the eyes that behold her
Forgetmenot's
Are unforgiving
To those who don't...
Memories
Remind us
Of the pasts importance
And we move foward
Through assortments of bouquets
New day
Others aren't as please
The violets hide under trees
And shade thier purple face
And sing the blues
No jolly
Oh
Holly ornaments
Hang accross vines
And intertwine tight as twine
Or a kiss...
Tulips under the mistletoe
Such bliss

As free as insects
The Beatles
Eat the ripe fruit of life
We share
No one cares
There's
Strawberry Fields Forever
Sweet scents
As we swing
Life has been like a Jasmine
Imitating that yellow sun
And it's will
While we walk without haste
Through Love Metaphor's Feild

I'd always thought
That when you finally left me
I'd use that pain to write poems
The best ones Id ever written
Because the most passionate pieces of us
Are hurt.
Pain is the emotion we feel the deepest.
And I thought I'd be able to use it
In a way that cleansed me of you
But now that you're gone,
I see I was wrong.
I can't even lift up a pen.
In fact
I think I want to burn every ****
Paper I have scribbled words accross
Trying to describe you to people
Who would never understand.
Now that you're gone
I hate poetry.
I hate metaphors
I hate similes
I HATE THEM BECAUSE YOU YOURSELF ARE THE GREATEST POEM EVER WRITTEN.
And you're gone.

feeling the breeze touch your skin,
the melage of the warm air.
touching cold tile,
noticing the ware.
delving into Earth's dirt,
having safety offered.
running through the glorious grass,
being touched again and again.
stepping on a sharp glass piece,
loving the realese given.
walking accross road,
pebbles poking through.
realizing what's in you
is what's in all of us.
for once being a part of something
without dehumanization.
humans aren't what this is about,
we don't even understand.

The man accross the street is cursed.
Last week he has lost his wallet,
And he never had it back,
His dead son's picture went with that.

As he walked his dog to town,
The lead broke, started to run
A car has been speading up,
The dog cried out it's last bark.

His wife cheated him three times,
She left him their only son,
He never got a divorce,
His heart is now really broke.

All this because of his Mum,
Who is a witch on the run,
One day he drank her liquor,
And he never heard from her.

I heard whispers that women
Doesn't mind a bad omen,
If it's her son she's killing,
She doesn't mind, she's evil...

I really don't want to meet
The woman I mentioned here
Better avoid the trouble.
Her poor son will recover.

drugs,
they course through your vains,
leave horrible marks,
not only marks where they enter,
marks in your brain,
they can leave you going insane,
like my brother,
he did them too young,
ended up killing himself,
the drugs messed with his head,
*** he was in the wrong environment,
thats what they said.
but ive taken them too,
i enjoy them but only occasionally,
i smoke **** nearly everyday,
even go out and sniff coke with mates,
but i do know my limits,
and will soon stop someday,
but im young and im dumb,
theres so much fun to be had,
after all im only 17 years of age.
some say i should know better as they killed my mum too,
for me drugs are not a get away,
i dont use them to cover any sadness up,
thats how i know when i take them im okay,
because im happy when i take them and they make me more so,
but im happy all the time so they wont stick like they say.

violence
i watched my brother get his legs nearly chopped off,
attacked in the night by a man all in black clothes,
look out of my window and just down the street,
theres a man with a machete slicing through his knee caps like meat,
accross the road my other brothers are there in safety of a shadow but i can make them out clear,
the man leaves my brother on the floor covered in blood,
a woman runs out the house with towels and a phone,
shes doing something with his legs,
anyway turns out she saved his life,
the ambulance came congratulated her and took my big bro away,
his knees now made of metal,
and his shins made of plates,
he barely leaves his house,
hes scared he will never find peace,
hes been stabbed 7 times and shot 3 times on top,
basically the bad things seem never to stop.
the fun thing about it is when you get your own back,
my big sister did that when her boyfriend was an abusive old ****,
she beat him up in the garden when he pushed her down the stairs,
it wasnt because of that though it was *** he had called her a *****!!
i grew up with 7 brothers so i seem pretty tough,
but when i fight i get unbelievably rough,
sometimes i cant stop once ive started,
so i try to steer clear of confrontation and stuff.

Death
well ive seen plenty of that,
ive seen people die,
ive seen people come close to dying,
but the people ive watched have always died fighting,
even if that fighting is with themselves,
not one of them gave up without a fight,
death is..
cold.
unfair.
destructive.
but its also...
beautiful.
peaceful.
and even sometimes wanted.

The process of creation
Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word
Or fertilized in the womb
Or sprouting underground
Maybe born of the heavens long ago
Before earth and sun
Born of the stars, exploding into the universe
Or within the volcano
Deep inside the earths core
Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls
The rich colors of the untouched forest
Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight
Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering
Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world
Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs
Dandelion child

Its his eyes, watching you undress
slip seductively beneath the sheets
Its his fingers dancing accross the small of your back
and his hands pulling you close to his chest.
Your breath deep and filled with air he's breathed
Sweet life-giving.
Your eyes flutter and close,
Its him watching you slowly fall asleep.
Its him cupping ben, jerry.
Its him whispering love, penetrating deep and fixing your shattered heart..
And you, sweet, sorry, beautiful, ******* there'll never be words.
Be everything to him, as you were to me.
Don't make love the way we did, it's sick, it's wrong, it's ours.

To touch these dreams
Of broken seams
Unwind a harmful truth
That day after day
I dig deeper my grave
That holds me as a youth

I am scared to say
That in my bed as I lay
Pondering of days not to be
I often come accross
A thought once lost
But now urgent to stay next to me

But where do you turn
When you wish not to learn
How to become a better you
Because the cuts feel good
They make you free like a bird
But freedom is gone too soon

I don't want to be touched
And I won't speak as much
If I'm mad and raging with fear
But your gentle sigh
Of a sweet lulleby
Is something that I hold dear

My arms beg for embrace
As along my cheeks your hands trace
To touch these tears of shard
And you reach past my chest
In hopes of the best
To find a racing heart

But now you can see
There's nothing in me
But a heart that whispers death
So in this grave I will lie
Until that day that I die
And of me - - nothing be left

Shreaded heart due to color of the skin,
Lonesome nights due to attire I'm found in,
Invisible due to the identity I'm lacking,
How can it be that all of this is still happening?

Inocence in a cell because the color tries to define them,
Eyes of hate cover the dark hair upon them,
Forget the studies if papers weren't probided,
How can we live passing all the judgement?

Military veteran, but color over sees it,
Depressive memories drowning a person's surroundings,
Brought accross at the age of no concience,
Let us widen out eyes to see instead of look,
To listen rather that simply hear,
To speak not talk,
To extinguish this judgement basing on the cover of an incredible story that may walk right past your ignorance.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

I've won a day at the races
For me and my friend Doreen Maguire
Posh frocks and new hats
That's what we require.

So off we go shopping
Hair and nails done on the way
Well we girls want to lookj our best
For the big race day.

Now Doreen's buxom and curvy
Me I'm thin as a latt
Or you could say slim and slender
And Doreen's just fat.

We went in loads of shops
Nothing seemed to fit the bill
Everything was kind of frumpish
And we're definitly not over the hill.


Then we came accross this shop
In a side street in the town
It's called Reds Closet Boutique
And we both came out with a gown.

We got fascinators to match
Shoes, accessories and bags too
Doreen got something in pink
I got something in blue.

It was the day of the races
We were up with the lark
Had our lunch at Tom and Jerry's
Then off to Haydock Park.

The horses are under starters orders
And I'd backed the grey
Well it came home last
But it was winning all the way.

Now we came to the last race
And we're digging deep in our pocket
Doreen said put it on this
It's called Super Rocket.

Well it romped hom at 50/1
This horse called Super Rocket
And me and Doreen Maguire
Went home with brass in our pocket.

© Hazel

tis time
said the elf in my ear
tis my time of year
unpack the baubles
the lights,
tinsel
and gear
the merryest of merry
times is near

said I to the elf
get back on tne shelf
nay get back in that box
good gosh and begorrah
calm down your striped socks
it is five  in the a.m.
December the 1st

said the elf, in my ear
I know the time
I let you sleep a whole
four hours and 59 nine minutes
over the strike of my first happy day

so now
get your great *** into gear
this is the only time  I see
the otherside of the box
after months locked down
so get it together mother dear

hang the lights
and let them twinkle
place the tree and
smell the pine needles
and the faint
odour of cat ******?
watch them as they shed
hang the baubles that sit
differently to how they
looked in your head
throw tinsel at that sucker
till it glows and shimmers
knowing that stuff gets every where
even  into the cats stomach and bed

bring on the cheer ,bring on the glee
bring out the angels, the santas, and me

start buying presents
and wrapping  them furtively
have the discussions about
what to buy for those less near
buy the cheap and nasty,  or
the  credit card dear
buy the simple or make the  stuff
or simply divert payments to next year
as if we mostly don't have
more than enough

remember those gone and those left behind
keep them close to heart and to mind
think of those with out resource or recourse
make  some adjustments in order to be kind
and give away joy to  some you don't know
could well  become their reason to stay ...not go

come on said the elf it is time we began
got to get ready, spread a little love accross
your patch of this land, don't be a grinch,
a scrooge or sadsack,  you gotta have
the big jolly-mans  back

and while we are here
conversing and such
remember  the reason
for all this fuss,
doesn't matter,
the religon, the caste
or the creed..
as this time approaches
take moments to reflect
upon this years closing
and hope with joy
and no fear
for love to conquer all
in the future year

said  I to the elf
yammering away in my ear
well said  young  chap
time to get on my good cheer

To watch,
Blood run through your veins and know,
You can stop it, quick or slow.
The lack of complications with which you could potentially be the murderer of your own breath.
And for what?
To prove to the world that you as many others have become vulnerable of your own mind?
Victimized by tragedies or scenarios of twisted "what if"s.
Of love found and lost,
Love from birth and ripped away from your heart like a knife to a steak.
To prove to yourself that you no longer must live in pain or fear.
Fear that consumes your every breath and thought that crosses your condemned mind.
You feel as though it will not get better than sitting in denial in a room full of voices begging for peace in a world that is not our own, voices crawling from no lips only from your own self inflicted insecurities.
But I,
I, am not here to let this monster of a thought consume you.
I, for one, am a stranger.
A stranger to you but not to this monster.
I too have battled the war between peace or life.
I too have swam accross the vast oceans of thoughts screaming to fulfill their wishes.
But I won this battle.
And I will be the knight to stand by your side when it is time to make the decision.
Between life, or a commitment of suicide.
I am the real you I am the one who lives the one who wants to make you smile and find love that will not betray you but for that you must trust me.
You must trust that there is in fact a light at the end of the tunnel as cliché as it may sound.
So listen to this last phrase for it will **** the voices of torture.

You are worth every breath and every tear, you are worth it all and more, be the knight and fight the battle, you will win, because we all believe in you.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros

and tonight it is
the elder, mother god
of which i speak....

she  snores and snuffles
in the lazyboy chair
slumped awkward
and sombulant,
akin to a ragdoll,
carelessly,
tossed aside,
after a day's hard play.

and it is in the cracks
and crinkles, both large and minute that craze and track
accross her well worn,
well loved face
that i see,
the god-dust...
lingering.

and as i gently,
place a woolen wrap
over her tired old body.

i take a moment...
to give thanks and
worship,
her hard earned diety.

and the mothergod...
slumbers, snoringly on.

The shovel burst through the foreboding soil with a thud.

A powerful hand was gripped around the handle. Farther up the arm connected to the hand, was a man.
He stood at a towering 6'4"
Everything about him said mean,
Except for the tear on his cheek,
And the whimper of his eyes.

The shovel went down, and soil came up. This happened again and again for a very long time. His pace was slow, but only because he couldn't bare to finish.

Eventually enough soil was above ground. And he knew the time had come.

One more solemn tear fell accross his cheek as he lowered his son's limp body into the ground.

Thoughts rushed through his head, but he ignored them. It was all too much.
He had made the choice to pay rent instead of buy a casket and it was eating him alive, but it was too late now.

He began to shovel dirt back into the hole. Faster this time. He held less power though. His hands shook, his body trembled, and his soul cried as he saw his son for the last time.

The smell of Iron carresses my nose.
I undress.

Looking in the mirror.
Scars decorating my skin.

Others- Ugly.
Me- Beauty.

My eyes take in every inch of myself.
Is it ****** up to say I got turned on?

My eyes dart to the corner of the room.
There lays a lifeless body, bloodless.

My eyes dart to the bathtub.
Filled to the rim with crimmison.

Blood is boiling.

I walk accross the blood soaked floor,
leaving ****** footprints in my wake.

I pearch on the side of the tub.
Stick my toe into it.

A sigh and a shiver of pleasure escape me.
I emerse myself in to it.

I grin...

Razor teeth on display.
For my victoms who are forced to watch.

Bliss...

Crystallized cards and bleeding hands
Empty minds and dull reflections
Desperation spread accross the lands
People divided into seperate sections
Skins burnt crisp by brands
Bodies braking down by neglection
Time without the flowing sands
Faith lost in crucified interception

All of a Sudden chapter 2

I was sitting at my desk, going through some files.
It was just after noon, when the phone rang.
It was Emma, my friend at the bank where I used to work.
"Gomer" she says. "something wierd is going on".
What is it Emma? "I was sitting at my desk, when this
outdoorsy looking tall blond was at my boss's desk, and I
overrheard her asking about you." when all of a sudden ....

there was a knock on my door. The suddeness startled me
I had not had a visitor to my office in nearly 2 weeks.
"come in" I said. The door opened, and this mousy little
guy wearing a tattered jacket and a Yankee ball cap
entered. "Mr LePoet" he asked. "I have a package for you".
I signed for the package, handed the old boy a $5 bill.
He tipped his cap, smiled and said "Have a nice day"
as he exited my office. The package was in old plain
brown paper, about the size of a hat box. I was about to
cut the twine and open the box when all of a sudden ....
    
looking out my 3rd floor window, down at the street,
I could see the mysterious blond getting out of a
limosine. She was accompanied by an older gentleman
wearing a leather jacket and a fedora. They seemed to
be in a hurry and it appeared that the man had a firm
grip on the dames left arm, almost pulling her along.
They were headed for the 20 something story building
accross the street. I thought just maybe if I ran down the
stairs I could catch up with them and find out what was
going on. I ran down the stairs, taking 5 steps at a time,
and when I reached the street level I saw them just
entering the building. I started to yell, when all of a sudden ...  

Gomer LePoet...

Chopin's Nocturne opus 9, number 2

A sonorous performance,
The mellow yet melancholic undertones of the masterpiece reverbates through the meadow
From the reflective rubato streaking past the flowerbed,
To the passionate conclusion in a whim, echoing through the garden,
The garden in which a willow rests
Its twigs holding a chalice in its embroidering,
Twines glowing in the shimmering of the silver moon,
Its dark-red fluids seeping from the cracks

It gazes through the dark crevasses for an eternity,
A panorama of planets and stars dwindling to dust as it stirs its nebulas,
Clouding its view as in parallel,
Universes as large as needle tips deteriorate to nothing

There's just naught, nothing, nothingness,
The black mass piercing,
Puncturing the veins of the solemn soul wandering through the canyon
Rubato, stringendo, it walks its own pace and in its solitude
The moonlight its guide, the music its guardian
The darkness its friend

The walls enclosed - an impasse clad in an aural hue descending from the stars
An eternal mirror flowing accross the pond
It took a gander in the deep lagoon and saw the galaxy unfold

Sparkling candenzas fluttering through the sky like fireflies
Ever abiding, expanding galaxies within the grasp of its cortex
The moon flows, the stream flows
The sound of drizzling water emanating from the distance
Timeless endeavour snaps back to reality

I found myself sitting in a dim-lit room, glass in hand
The mellow taste of the blood-red wine
A bouquet of fine grapes with cherry undertones
In the corner rests the mirror I gaze in occasionally

Seconds pass and I gazed into an abyss

Minutes pass and I gazed into an abyss
A murky shadow lurking

Hours pass and I gazed into an abyss
A murky shadow along two red stars

Days pass and I gazed into an abyss
A silhouette hued in rubescence grimacing with hollow eyes

Weeks pass and I gazed into an abyss
T H E  E Y E S  W A T C H  M E  W H E R E V E R  I  G O

Months pass and I observed a whole new universe
As I looked at the crevice staring back at me
It smiled and reached its hand

Years pass and I gazed into an abyss
The opaque mass piercing my glassy veil as familiarity reminiscences
A supernova of grief and destruction strokes my back, pinching my neck
The willow is dead
The moon is red
A brittle chalice crusted with blood

Then it fell silent and yet the nocturne faintly lingered in my head
As I stared into the mirror for the first time in centuries

It stared back, bearing the most unnerving grimace

I used to not believe
in love at first sight;
then it happened to me
Once upon the other night.


I came to purchase a
dish rack for my dorm
and was just on my way
to check out and leave the store


when accross a short space
appeared my ideal,
possessing every grace.
"Please be mine." was my appeal.


Fireworks of color
filled my focused sight.
This love of mine was full,
yet it made my heart so light.


Walking quickly forward,
I hoped this love's
life would not be short.
It, I would possess!


Then we were face to face
I felt a caress
and full of lovesick haste,
swore that together we would be best.


I and that for which I pined
had come to that time:
It's just four, ninety-nine!
And so the scarf was mine.

Long curly hair, afloat in the breeze
short,swift glances
and a deep longing to meet yours;--
-No!
I refuse to fall for you again.
Red full lips, parted;ready to speak,
dry parched throat, denies such action-
-I said, 'No' .
Faster and faster races a shattered heart,
shards clawing on the inside; but you advance nonetheless.
and then... a deafning silence.
come hear the sound of my breaking heart,
come feel the cold raging inside,
come taste the sorrow I now hate.
Is it possible you heard?
That you felt ?
That you tasted?
Is it possible that--
Gentle hands caress me,
And a wamth engulfs what little frame i have;
silencing the screaming winds.
Deep brown eyes wander accross my still face,
finding what exactly; I'll never know.

i walk...
out into the sun,
through the creaking gate,
down accross the strip
of brown driedup grass,
over the already warm,
under my feet, tarmac
to the roads crumbling edge,
all the while, the kookaburras are laughing
with glee and the rainbow
lorikeets, are gossiping about me....
i walk down the cliff side steps, seventy three and
then one last, doozy jump,
onto the squeaking sand.
stop a moment now, to
shed my shoes and shirt,
down to the tideline...
now, i am leaving land,
for wave and froth and
beating water, keep striding
through, to the deeper salt
and then, suspended,
in the ocean.....
feeling free...
as i give myself to it and it gives to me....

          **back to the mother,
      my souls own, delight,          
   saltwater  washing
                           heals all.