Memories crying, screaming to be heard.
Try as I might to bury these amidst busy days,
still they rise from the backyard of my mind haunting my dreams,
making youth a nightmarish memory.

Empty rooms cry out in agonizing silence.
White ghosts float on lifeless bodies with the same question; why?
Anxious moments still taunt just beyond of safety.
The sickness that gave birth to this still clouds the mind.  

So long ago, a lifetime to make peace, still lucid moments of torment
making March an anniversary dirge.
It makes no sense to cry for those gone, for mortals spent in tragedy,
yet every year I try to understand once again, why?

It saddens me
Knowing that this
Between us
Will never work
Because you look at me
Desperately searching for someone else
You look at me
In hopes to catch glimpses of them
It saddens me
Because we never truly had a shot
When all I wanted
Was that
A fighting shot

With a shimmering corona of the dark coiling fog,
she glides through the shadows
with haunting songs,
sad but sweet.

a ghost hiding in the haze
the kind of which i came to be
a silhouette, pale and sheer

a bleached semblance and no shape
limbs stretching out, dissolving in the air
a draft whistling your name

a saint who ****** himself for this
became a soul to grasp a chance
but hollowness is all there is

Dopamine addict
scored, but itched
for a serotonin fix.
This sonder mirror, these
incessant cravings for opia.

Staring down mydriasis, that
bracketed emptiness, haunting
egolessness, one lasting hit after
shooting up with the metaphysics.
Consigned to it, being strung out
on ∃xistence, whatever depth
you'd ascribe to it: a category.

Know passion is incandescent,
Embrace peace as effervescent;
Lost in the gaze of fall liberty,
Rainy daze in winter ecstasy,
Found in a maze of spring
empathy, azure haze of
summer vibrancy,

Mescalito tornado on desert sands,
Shroom typhoon on distant shores,
∀cid cyclone on the horizon,
Pharmahuasca maelstrom
drank the earth; ion chaser
ate a hurricane, The Empyrean was born.

Loving an addict is like living in a haunted house
It isn't always scary, but when it is, it is terrifying
It is shake you in your bones, haunt you to your core ~ terrifying

Little things lead up to the big scares
A bump in the night
(of *******)
A spilled elixer on the floor
(of straight *****)
A crushed up relic scattered along the floor tiles
(of Oxycontin pill bottles)

And you try to pretend it isn't happening
And you tell everyone you can't see the ghosts
And you ignore the loud noises and the sudden screams in the night
After all, this is your home and he is your heart


And now your heart is haunted

O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”

The seraph sky on ebony night,
A white marble of placid light.
Casting to the living glass,
Haunting, the feeling's elapse.

A time of gardenia drapes,
Hanging the mourning wall.
Scent of ambrosia fogging,
The pavement covered in moss.

Portraits of Celts amidst,
Drifting upon moonlight mist.
Eyes delving, ears opt to hear,
Voices whisper of ancient fear.

An oracle muses the unguided,
As trees speaks the truth.
Humanity strives to be the art,
Yet only remembers by a few.

My dreams have spoken deep,
Wicked I weep,
For my sorrow is surreal,
In the dark shadows I feel,
Stuck within eternity's turning wheel.
I run into the mist,
Growing wings like Willow I insist.
Riding the winds together,
And flying through stormy weather,
Dressed in nothing more than feather.
Reaching the mountains,
In thunder our tale is growling.
We dance upon the green,
Forgotten we must see,
That this is where we've already been.
Silently reality whispers,
Wake up from this madness,
There is no time for sadness.
For in labor you must bleed,
To fulfill your hungers need,
And pay of fake pupeteers.
This frail trail I will walk,
Untill my haunting green dreams can talk.
Staring upon the flames,
Your call still remains,
Upon the midnight stars I wish,
For you to grand me this scacered rich.
Untill that time,
I will earn the dime,
To pay for this human crime.

Tonight,
I was a Red Queen
starring in my own circus

Dazzling in authentic velvet
being looked upon,
but more importantly looking

Sitting on a mighty pedestal of white winter smoke

Gazing down on my misunderstood subjects,

Wielding a rosary, I never once believed in
stepped in water, that caused me no spiritual awakening
Sneaking through the haunting open corriders

they should know how empty the life of monarchy is

please let them see” much of this life is fake

they must see* there is much to live for, but also lots to die for

However, all this was an herb induced thought

Which stemmed from a memory of myself, a child of merely four years

Creating little soap operas, with the cards from a card deck

Mumbling to myself on the bathroom floor, wise beyond my years

The far space is closing along a band of trees,
peelings of shadowy rind expose ghostly hues.
all around the air is flammable,
until the setting sun a burning bush turns ashen.  

Strange mood around this monolithic rock
that some folks fear.
Overlong we have waited presenting our sacrifices.
yet not a breath of wind stirs as we chant
and seeds take root.  

A strange spirit leaps into our midst
and all around there is a quick intake of breath.
Piercing movement collapses in upon itself as it whispers
though our pores.
Rhythms strange insistent beat, a driving force
whirls through our bloodstream,
its slow sensuous movements lead us into dreams.
Attached ghost,
your haunting aria spins in ethereal mist
transposing meditation.
Someone has put a hole in our language and now as we
look with hazy speculation upon the book
with tiny red stitches we remain baffled,
turning it round and round looking at all the foreign symbols,
                                   but it cannot be deciphered.  
Only the creatures of the forest remember;
Mid-Summer nights, the sound of magical flutes and the
bells of dancing nymphs.  
Only they understand  the gifts that Gaia bestows.    
Only they remember the Wisdom Of The Faun.

Past and present lovers all in one chamber united for a cause, Seconds seems endless and minutes like an eternity.
With each face an attachment of memory which intends to haunt my daydreams and nightmares.
Many a days pass by without a sign of those ghost and then this, my life seems to be lost in the glare of their eyes.
Each time I glance at them I see how the lust I felt is more like a forsaken blossom lost in the mist of a low lying fog, with its thickness it chokes at my throat never to rise and dissipate.

And then...my eyes open to see the textured ceiling and scent of myrrh brings me back to safety of my soft comfortable bed.

I'm a lying, cheating loser
With a gun pointed at my head
I still remember everything you said
Maybe I'll be worth more to you when I'm dead

There's a summer sunset I haven't seen
And it's haunting my dreams
The daylight breathes and blows away
The scent of you and everything you'll say

I can still hear the words
But I'm still unsure
If you really meant them
And why I resent them

Daylight, dead of night, any time
The thoughts don't stop in my mind
I think and talk about it too much
Everyone around me has heard enough

Hawling in, flaunting around
Chilling breeze, the dark
Enchanting blind owls, moonshine thrill
Weird rats and the flying bats

The witch and omens
Blurry old lake
Haunting black meadows
And the crooked faced ape

Crackling sounds of bamboo
Fire in distant hills
Misty breeze of thrill
Imagination haunting deep

Wolves,
the ****** mistiques
Sharp gazes, the moonkiss
An ackward grin,
beyond the relics
Shatters, the concept of Darwin

Heartbeat, the thrill within
Black wasp, black cream
Creepy ackward hisses
Oh just heard a thrilling scream
Wow, the wolves
aaww......
wwooo.........
wwwoooooo.................

O' Fiddlesticks, The Harbinger of Doom
Do the crows know your woe?
A sad party, a crow storm parade.
A forbidden power, a dreadful surprise.
A draining link, to the fool who tries.
A lonely puppet, forgotten pride.

A haunting fright, left inside.
You know no bounds, without a brain.
A scarecrow with wooden pegged legs.

Spark's head lay
on the trench,
bloodied and staring,

mouth open as if words
died on his tongue.
Every night,

George saw that,
and he would wake up
sweating, and shouting

or screaming,
and Polly would come running
from the adjoining room,

and hold him tight
to her breast,
soothing and calming him,

kissing him to a stillness,
pushing away
Spark's invisible head,

back to the dead.

A presence
presenting
a continuous torment
torturing
incessantly
until, even with cessation
only a tenuous self
is present
leaving only the resin

The maniacal
manifestation
is an infestation
festering around in my head
Its existence,
a creation
created at inception,
hacking my brain
Forever a trap
creating a
maniac

Acrimonious
to all mankind
Not acting
like a man
Not one word
that's kind
Committing crimes
and getting oneself
committed
A deviation
creating a deviant
Shifted values
due to a devalued
self

An esoteric
essence
seemingly sentenced
on this journey
by judge and jury,
not by one's peers
because the many
not able
to peer
into this individuality
The duplicity
of duality
that is my reality

Challenging myself
to a dual
One in which
I both
win and lose
But in the end
not breaking even
or coming out ahead
Always ending
further back
instead

Its back breaking
and always aching
Pain from which
not capable of
faking
Effort I’m taking
Of myself making
Time for a new king
For kinsmanship
is aloof
And this man’s ship
has sailed away
Sipping a port
at a shipping port
And yet
slipping away

Deeper still
In the depth
of still water
Sinking
into the abyss
Lost and gone
But not missed
Is this the end
of our fable?
Or will our “hero”
enable himself
and in the end
be able
Deciding who to be?
Cain or Abel?
For the hurricane
is hurrying along
Its aim always the same
Constant pain
A payment he feels
for the displaced
placement
which just in case
is placed
same place
he went

Ink in the face
A disgrace
When suddenly
encased in his brain
are racing thoughts
of a plan
he’s ace’n

A label of insanity
given by those
who claim sanity
when the reality
is their thoughts are free
and optimize
a sanitized
and homogenized
batter
And in the end
it doesn’t matter

Offering suggestions
in which they
feel threatened
Pathways congested
and protested
Testing them
Even worse,
bested
A problem beset
upon them
Time to steady
the flock
Roll n’ Rock
Inoculations we’re getting
Start the injections

“It’s been an honor”
Mounting my Lipizzaner
A disarmer
A charmer
The armor
‘mi amor’
Leaving me
wanting more
But as they keep score
the task is daunting
A life that’s haunting
with such splendid decor
-
Yet, can’t take any more
Their taunting
is leaving me sore
So to the atmosphere
I open that door
and flying up above
I soar

Forever more
Feel pain no more...

Wondrous and momentous, why does this hurt?
Evanescence of your taste, as sweet as dessert
A delicacy you told me only I understand
I can count the times you said I love you on one hand
Thoughts of you boil my blood down deep
They unfold the lies which succeeded in haunting my sleep
A ghost of my past present and future I'll never forget
The day that fate decided when and where we first met
With just a smile, you savored my attention
Just a mere touch vanquished my world without convention

A boat sailed the ocean, crossing fields of blue.
A boy sat on the stern, awaiting her return.
The light in the dark; the woman of his dreams.
Dreams of haunting beauty, on this blue sea.

He watched day and night, nary a break in-between.
But only shadow-stained blue showed, showering up from the sea.
The Sun arose anew,
Again and Again and Again.
But the woman he saw not, only haunting fields of blue.