Late night infinity,
Because my heart is so alive,
Shedding the reality,
Of the who, what, where, and why,

Everyone is dreaming,
But I stay wide awake,
My consciousness is teeming,
With decisions I should make,

What if I just float here?
What if I just smile?
Let's let go of all the fear,
Let's just be lovers for a while,

Let's live inside the twilight,
Or maybe in the dawn,
Anywhere it feels right,
Even though we know it's wrong.

Afternoon walks around this calm body of water are as precious and innocent as a toddlers first steps , orange sunshine reflecting across her mirrored surface , Canadian goslings proudly trail their mother , Great Blue Herons stand guard at the treetops as young couples laugh and share their joy for one another
Pekin Ducks feast along along the manicured shores , Bullfrogs signal the hour of Dusk as the Piedmont Corn Moon heads for home
Shadow lovers commit bucolic images to lifetime memory beneath the periwinkle twilight blush
Astral plats of silver and gold , the distant cry of Turtle
Doves

Undisturbed these blankets new
undisturbed conceal the few.
Those who wander worn and weary
speak of Spring's antiquity.
Winter's callous tears will bring
no more odes for choirs to sing.
Restless nights breed endless dreams
undisturbed to cease the streams.

But glory still remains amid
wide expanses now deemed placid.
I long to feel your touch again
but I will wait until you rien.
The mornings shine with crystals bright
whilst Twilight's solitude holds tight.

On the night of our wedding
I swim to my bride, the moon.
Diverged in her wild waves, I
struggle to even meet her stars.
A ceremony at twilight
where I will meet my bride,
and tip-toe on the horizon
to kiss her glowing lips.
And whisper ‘til death’.

But all too soon,
saltwater envelops it's lungs.
A body is washed to shore,
and the sun mourns warmth
on the cold lips
that ever longed
to kiss and whisper
at the moon.

It's a long,
            slow,
                languid sky.

Clouds incinerating,
in a smouldering heat,
on the horizon,

The last traces,
of afternoon light,
beseiged by sunset.

Your memory,
is a wild specter,
casting firefly trickery,
into the settling twilight.

And the city rolls,
past itself,
projected on the mirrored face,
of a glass building.

I am a lonely Alice.
Somewhere on a checkered green,
in that looking glass world,
you are having tea parties,
without me.

Coaxing dream,
with your Red Queen,
and Cheshire grin.

Sending it flailing,
weightless,
through smoke rings,
like dogs through hoops -
rabbit holes.

It's a long,
           slow,
               languid sky.

Darkness falls,
like the weight of years,
that pass as quickly,
as the peak,
of a dreaming red sunset.

Their memory,
is a great humid ghost,
condensing itself,
the way dampness and heat,
press the air.

Tomorrow promises rain.
I will ****** my face,
to the mirage sky,
and its clouds,
will weep.

Salty,
watercolor tears,
blurring the reflection,
of my absence,
in your looking glass world.

Far away night is falling
In the twilight, home is calling
From open door and window
They will greet me when I come
All the years have turned into hours
All my tears turned to way-side flowers.

twelve and raw i was
when vaudeville came to town
over the grasslands lay the trapeze,
the fire-monger, the carnival clause,
the whir of metal.

it was the twilight of the Earth
and its men chortling
in single splendid dome
of temporal gleam;

yet now,
banderitas and the lowly
   signs gone, wavering are their
     beacons — rivers amply dead,
and no summer fruition —

this town's lack of circus
   brings night farther to day.
the river makes bride, the muck
  of clay. street vendors pulse with
different tongues. spit and spatter
   spar cleverly downhill
and still no dancing of olden days.

nights i lay, hearing the steady phoenix
of imagination. was it this town's proud
  call? the festive moving?
    sun meets moon and underneath,
the roulette spins in my mind like
   an elusive daydream
   mounting the carousel and steely
     tetanus beams,
        beating  around   an empty home.

~

“Well she's walking through the clouds”

Little wings keep her upright
as she strolls through the sunrise
now brightly glowing within my heart,
blind to my feelings

“With a circus mind that's running wild”

Beneath azure tents of atmosphere,
smiling at another perfect day in her world
While tame white tigers
roar on cue

“Butterflies and zebras”

Watercolor happiness fills her eyes
as she chases the beauty that is her nature,
caressing all that she touches
with the wonder that is her essence

“And moonbeams and fairy tales”

Moonbeams, something lost in my imagination
and once upon a times, when poppies and dandelions sing
the saddest of songs for my desires
flood in a downpour of dreams not realized

“That's all she ever thinks about”

While frolicking childlike atop cotton candy visions
never once looking my way,
finding this love I hold so gently,
only for her

“Riding with the wind”

On whispered breezes she disappears
as day drinks of twilight
and weary eyes find star light harsh…I sleep,
waiting for the new day, waiting for her…once again

As I strolled through a foggy autumn evening
In the twilight when dusk has set
Auburn leaves filled my dreams like clouds in the sky

Through the wind speckles of water dwindled in the air
As faded light pierced the somber veil
Headlight by headlight passing by

Tiny beads of water accumulate on the surface
Like pearls they glisten in moonlight
And ever so pristine, reflective like mirrors
I found myself in a silver glow

As wisps of light sparked - a swarm of fireflies
Ever captivating - fascinating they performed
A dragon's dance along the candle light

But I walked the barren road that night
I wandered in darkness, blisters on my feet
Pelted and bruised I collapsed, huddled in madness

I slept, I wept, I woke up in an empty hallway
Darkness filled the void as I screamed but nothing replied
As I passed through the barriers of seclusion
For a single moment, I glance

Shrieking deafened my frail ears as in front of me
A horrendous creature gazed at me, grimacing wide
Its piercing gaze petrified me

To resist the blizzard chilling me to the bone
To conquer gravity taking its toll
Mirrors shatter to tiny fragments

And I saw the light

A sunflower as bright as the stars stood before me
With a mantle of pure gold it called my name
The genesis of a whole universe, I blossomed

I walked the thorny road for the ample roses
With coats so vividly coloured, dancing in the sun
I walked past the void on my bare feet

Glass shards piercing my tainted soles
As I walk through the corridor of the past
On the ground I stand I embrace the darkness
Yet I always feel the caress of the sun

The haven where fragments and shards
Once shattered form together
It is where I always wanted to be
Yes, it is where I always wanted to be

Just close your eyes, for only then will you be able to see
remove yourself from the limitations, true belief is the key
you must search for that which can see, but cannot be seen
but know that it exists within you, this, your spiritual screen

Perhaps we call it the soul, unhindered by physical limitations
helping us throughout life, despite preconceived expectations
yet few really wish to explore, this hidden truth residing within
perhaps afraid past indiscretions may surface, memories of sin

Yet we really owe it to ourselves, finding this true good is what we all seek
but without looking in the right place, our mood will forever remain bleak
we must escape the lies the world feeds us, only then will our journey begin
no longer seeking answers, because we'll find them hidden in our hearts within

So the only remaining hurdle we must overcome, is this fear of the unknown
but it seems in our ignorance, too often we think it resides in the twilight zone
then know that this world is but a reflection, imagination lacking clarification, and see
that this is why, more often than not, differences in this world are measured by degree

Guided by this light within, we can never go too far away from our true source of life
only then will we have the power to walk that divine path, by collectively avoiding strife
internal insights, as human beings, in His Image we've been created, we're part of the divine
that means we have the power, world redemption is close at hand, we need only read the Sign

You are the pleasing smell of Chinese grease
I am the invisible motivation to frolic in the fountain

You are a stranger's giggle &
an invitation to dance

I am a Cabaret Voltaire 12"
& half a clove cigarette

You are the diaphanous nature
of auburn clouds at twilight

I am the woman who raised you
but never dared speak your name

You are that familiar left shoe
abandoned on the roadway
never finding its twin

I am an expectant evening
after an expectant morning
spent talking on the phone

You are the receiver
the near-silent listener
the breather of shared truths

I am the walker the watcher
the faint scent of prawns
near the dumpsters at work

You are a newborn angel
a pageant of colors & functions

I am a poet, no matter
where you find me
lost on a street corner
that I'll never own

You are a plane ticket, yes
only one way to answer

I am a handstamp still worn
but only as a reminder

You are the fairy lights
strung between broken
promises only barely remembered
after a night washed in ***

I am a cluster of strangers, drunk & excited
We are the gift of mystery, alone at the table

We are mutual, the future
the last to be opened

We are the mission completed
the present grown tall

There is poetry in each and everyone of us.

There is poetry in every rise and fall of our chests, when we take in oxygen that had given life to a tyrannasaurus rex before, just as they give us now.
There is poetry in every overwhelming emotion threatening to drown us at midnight. For without this sadness or bliss, our journey to the grave will be a drag.
There is poetry in every adventure we choose to begin. It could be a new, longer route to school or a new park to explore when it is twilight and the children leave the park for home.
There is poetry in the beginning of a sweet puppy love or a bad break up.

I can't call myself a poet yet, after all I do not deserve that title. But can't you see, the poetry we all are?

We met and then
We went to bed.
What romantic
Things we said.
And knowing from
The way we kissed
That this was all
Very worth the risk.
That very week we
Moved in together
Think as to how
It would last forever.
We bought the stuff
For our love nest.
No questions asked
That was for the best.
Then conflicts rose
The other’s style
Our feelings hurt
We stewed a while
And I decided that
It would simply do
If I simply agreed
To give in to you.
From that we had
Things I didn’t want.
But really did wish
You wouldn’t flaunt
That everything was
Due to your taste
And implying mine
Was such a waste.
The same was true
Of your fidelity.
Dancing with others

(This is only autobiographical if
we go back forty years. And I have
been married for twenty five, so
this isn't about that.)
Without asking me.
So, being the nice guy
I didn’t complain.
I cleaned up after, but
Some dancers remained.
You complained that I
Wanted a standard marriage
With white picket fences
And a baby carriage
But you never agreed
To that limiting kind
And I felt I had been
Very dangerously blind.
After a week of living
In a marital twilight zone
You had packed up
And I was living alone
With no furniture or
A bed I could lie on
I realized how little
I ever had to rely on.
After a while I went
With friends to dance
Giving love another chance.
I met a person that night
And everything seemed
To be turning out right.
We liked the same tunes
And so we went to bed
With visions of forever
Dancing in our heads.

We run through forests and thickets
whizzing past swamps and field and glen,
this is how wild raw natural love is supposed to be
there is so much that has changed in my life since then.

She holds my hand, my heart beating fast, bleary eyes,
it's the wind, the air-floating feathers-who knows what
that gave me this overwhelming feeling of love,
this is what it's truly supposed to be when I fell from above.

We stop in a clearing, she runs her hands through my long
dark hair, she knows who I truly am, just simply setting me free,
in a field filled with fantastic stunning delights, stars sparkling into
the hazy twilight, there she kisses me slowly, soft and sweet.

There are streams and lakes, fern and pine, oak trees, amidst
Poppy, sagebrush and apple trees. You hold my hand and at once
I am in a dizzy spell. *"We can not go on forever like this,"
I say in my mind. Then I wake up to emptiness.

You knew all of me during those rooftop getaways
Grasping hands we'd make haste for our Twilight Escape
Speckled leaves brushed our feet ascending luminescent latice
Night's warm caress nestled us near the edge of release
Nothing could heed our desire for the freedom that were we
Transported over quagmires where our souls could finally see

Night coming down on the land shaded red,
As cunning and quick as a fox.
I rest in a cold lonesome room and bed,
When sharply upon my door knocks;

A strange subject standing,
A freak on my landing,
The twilight refuses to show.

I stay here and wonder,
I shake from the thunder,
I fear what it is I don't know.

With a moon resting dull,
Now the night comes in full,
A horrible shriek from there calls.

With a pulsating head,
I vacate this tense bed;
Curious the way this noise falls.

Outside rain dances to thundering drums,
While lightning exposes the void.
As I creep, I peak upon toes dead numb,
The knocking is quicker deployed.

Advancing the floor I see there is more,
to this unwelcome guest received.
Slowing my pace now i reach for the door,
It opens my eyes are deceived;

Before me stands still,
In a downpours chill,
This oddly shadow cast creature.

And even as still,
The lighting is nil,
Yet I can make out main features;

Without hair skull exposed,
Lacking eyes lips and nose,
Black tongue behind finely filed spikes.

It's breath suggests death,
And the chest 'neath it's neck,
Bares broken ribs sharpened as pikes.

Behind the pointy bones,
In the gore there is shown,
My caller is lacking it's heart.

So as seemingly ******,
I now open my home,
In hopes that this beast wont depart.

Curious to know how this thing is alive,
I've opened my doors and let it inside,
I'll ask it some questions and then maybe I,
Should cut off the head to see if it dies.

Kick me, I smile too gaily for the sparrows these days.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCL)


Now twilight falls upon what was and thence
Sifts out more lucid notes, how silence' pale
Breath hangs oer naked trees until their frail
Stance, like to ghosts half frozen in suspense,
Waits for the darkness sans a voice, though hence
Ah, Mavis' hallowed strains aught thrill t'avail.
Me left alone and whispring in betrayl,
"Oh, Andrew--!" blue skies thicken oer that sense.
Yes, I watched orange splash stone walls left as twere
Forlorn with empty eyes that stared out through
The greyish windows as lo, clouds donned fer
Effect, ah, purple, fuschia winking too
Oer houses left in shadows none in poor
'Scuse shifted.  Come, tell me when he'd not woo.

06Apr17c

Have gone through many portals surfing on the bardos of indefinite universes listening to Sate having a triple bipass in the dark without the sleep of twilight upon him. The 3 girls are stars sailing in the night sky leaving the last one with me, feline and fragile an aging withering vessel, like me, her only mother. I have played in the desert with a mad man. I have climbed the mountain with ******. I have been gutted for the last time. The freedom is astounding to have made it this far, this far. Hearty laughter replaces tears, or rage. I know you think you are smarter than everyone else, a trickster, such a clever fellow. I have found you out, and think of you as a poor mans version of little blownapart...short, a little pawn on the board of life. The other psychopaths are so much smoother than you, and the *** is much better. You know, I can't even remember your name, of course you never remember the name of butcher paper when you throw it in the garbage now, do you?

I said to my love,
in the waning spring
before yet children we bore,
"I will return dearest one,
fear you not, surrounded I am
by the songs and hopes of yore".

And yet never again walked I,
that path wandering
and beautiful at twilight
to our home in mystic hills
whispering truths and sighs.

For I, grown weary,
and forgetful by drink and blood,
cannot remember who I was then,
nor what even the touch of
that heav'n she gave
tasted of.

Our home,
a fleeting memory,
her face fading swiftly,
as a tearing and a burning
a sorrow and a yearning
swallow the magic,
our love once knew.

& and of this swooping          twilight
i might say it
is it.                           one large enormity
  ,        small and tumbling
deftly clumsy                             and reposed
                          quicklyquietly
in succulent folds of mauve silence

'pon                                           the imminenthills

outside my window

My father and mother gave me life.
Father contributed maybe just a minute;
His effort made life happen to me
Then he mostly cast me adrift in it.
Mother took longer to have me
But cared even less for me it seems
And after she did what she had to do
She just cared about her own dreams.

Life can be painful if you’re an orphan
Uncared for, unwanted and a pain.
It’s almost like people hold living against you
When they see you coming around once again.
Believe me, this is not what I wanted;
Always to be the flat fifth wheel.
I don’t know what else could have happened
But I have always aware of what I feel.

I developed a lifelong hatred of imposing,
Of asking something when not welcome.
I did what I could to show gratitude
But somehow I was taken as loathsome.
It was almost as if to know me was to hate me
And the best thing I could do was to be gone.
To make myself scarce from the party.
My best trick was just me moving on.

So, early in life, I started collecting
A brand-new batch of my family.
I only kept around those with no problem
Letting me know that they treasured me.
I stopped keeping track of the careless,
The users that only wanted what I had.
I turned my ears deaf to any naysayers
And ever since then I have been glad.

Christmas stopped being painful or lonely
With loneliness or abuse being the theme.
I joined in the traditions and merriment
And made holidays the fun they should seem.
I had my decorations and stockings hung up
On the mantel of a home of my very own.
And for those who didn’t care much for me
I wish them a Happy Twilight Zone.

Fluidity in thoughts
Merged in magnanimous twilight
The surrounding sensuous fragrance
Entwined in the flowing cascades

A dark hole
Piercing with a precision
On the orbiting celestials
Gathering an unbroken momentum

Life is on a timeless movement
Silent and withdrawn
Spaces become larger
Thoughts shrunk to being Unknown.
-A-

I have lost my sun,
Though I still orbit in a strange attraction.

I have lost my music,
Though I know my heart sings sound.

I have lost my vision,
Though I see in dreams an impossible beauty.

I have lost my sense,
Though this world has never tasted as sour.

I have lost my purpose,
Though aimlessly, I write in the pale drear of twilight.

I have lost my reason,
Though I chart dangerous courses without a crew.

I am the last falls of the loveliest red proscenium
curtain.

I am over, undone, a foundling, lost,
Without you.

Another year has come to a violent end
yet again the people do not disappoint
death destruction chaos misery abound
nothing different to those times before
as always nature the master of mankind
with other malicious forces is entwined!

Another unknown year is about to start
here we go again into the twilight zone
full of uncertainty where nothing is clear
so may I just add Happy New Year!

#TheFoureyedPoet.

If you have ever read The Host by Stephanie Meyer then you know it ends with "People are strange" with the reply, "The strangest". I hate the Twilight series but loved the werewolf aspect of it. My mom read the Twilight series and forced me to watch the Twilight series with her growing up. I personally love Cassandra Clare books. That's the difference between my mom and I. I give an in-depth analysis of every book I read so I have my own well read opinions while mom enjoy the fandom high. My mom stopped reading fiction books when her church friends thought they were the devil's work. I still read all types of fiction books. I watched The Mortal Instruments: The City of Bones the movie 10 times before I actually started reading Cassandra Clare books. The show Shadowhunters was a poor adaption of the books. No matter what series you read "People are strange" is going to be the overall take away. The Beautiful Creatures series is great because forbidden love is wonderful to read.

I don't come here often anymore.
I can't.

I  have grown to loathe the walls.
And the paper has faded,
just like the boards-
scratched, ugly
with flourescent
and no longer soft in
twilight.

I used to love
this place inside.
the notebook cubby of
creativity.
where my pen made
me beautiful.
An ego stretched and bared like
a bathing goddess.

But now I have lost my tongue
unable to translate fabric to
dress
and show my life, standing upright,
in verse.

Lyric hubris.
the Muse taketh away

Poet's curse.

Dilemma, the cerebral antebellum
The wrist flicked rhythm of the swamps
And the candlelit manors
Perched as tethered yachts atop the rim
Between twilight and dawn, awaiting the archetypal,
Cantilevered, alabaster shadows
Reckoning hatred with nature and burning the hallowed.  
Guests siphon pictures and survivors win registry
As History forgets to tell the sun and moon
Of their responsibility

There in the graying
lurking just behind,
its dark presence felt
in the lengthened shadows
cast by eve’s fading twilight.
Dare I chance
a glance back
hoping to check the harvester’s
quickening approach
the scythe’s relentless swing.