OK, DRIVE SAFELY

[life continues to beat]
Sometimes it seems i have been lost
then mostly finding myself between
tomorrow’s thoughts remembering today’s
yesterday as though it’s right now
then it’s gone. GONE. then (what a
lonely skinny word ‘then’)i find that
the rash was a tire’s track across my
chest and not poison ivy. So now this
is’nt happening and i am it for only
a moment longer ~~~~~there.

\\//
//\\
\\//
//\\
\\//
//\\

and then no longer______.
[life continues to beat]
:: 03-06-2017 ::


PLASTIC CHOCOLATE CLOUDS

Oh Mary is a little lamb
she bled where she lay
and the dead cried “me!”
On a wondrous sea,
saline sailing,
silently Ho! Pilot,ho!
I never knew plastic
chocolate clouds
could ever taste
this — so good
riddance my lamb
She bleats me badly
a blue-yellow bruise
crushed my heart
and we sang,
“Oh, Mary is a little
bitch and bled where
she lay — they shout,
“Me!”
And the silent Southern
moss-grown streets
like a New Orleans
sweet drinking all of me

:: 11-30-2014 ::


LOST WITHIN LOST WITHOUT

TODAY a clearing within my Thoughts
that i tried to catch.
As though my Mind took leave
and left my heart upon the floor
for all to see!

Yesterday’s sheltered within a memory
and the Soul; if it just passed by
without a care would it leave the
skin behind?

Bills, weather, cars and jobs
traffic, bombs, murders and all;
that’s a bit too odd!

And the dark shadows around the corner
the walls too thin to keep the ghosts
away
Dear God! the tears and faithful moments
dancing around the graves still unfilled
but always wet and cold.

:: 03-11-2017 ::


WITHIN MY PETALS

W
I
T
H
IN
M
y
Petals
a
ethereal
minstrel
d
o
e
s
Play!
l
w
a
y
s
the sun!

:: 03-11-2017 ::


THAT MUCH SLAUGHTERED FOR A SWEETNESS

so much darkness      so much light
when i cannot see      i remember
to never look directly into
that dark and sorry ending
(while the faithful are healing;
angels are mending (so many
as mountains)) and that much
slaughtered for a sweetness
we all call The Light.
:: 03-06-2017 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – XXXIII

GreatNothing
MY
LOVER! my step
/broken\
|_
|_ Falling-feeling
near your
furnace_Soul …
i [just me] dirt,dear
And i died a wish wishing
to touch…but your purity
denied my dirty Hand/Heart
i …[me] am no thing AND
bow to The GreatNothing
that eats me i should
~can [did]die
a fumbling mumbling
ember-Wish
THAT “I love you!”

:: 08-06-2014 ::
Rev: 02-01-2017 ::


PERCEPTION

P E R C E P T I O N is …

a

M I R R O R.

:: 01-30-2017 ::


SLEEPING AWAKE

EVEN as the bleak fields burn,
even as my Soul alone sings;
The feeling of living brings
solace for the poor minds
of my private brain.

AND the memories (the memories)
of many a days that never existed
now wander through the land;
Time a hand, my own lily white
and nowhere to Scream to Scream,
“I am not from here or this Land!”
no gloom
no doom
no room
to die!

:: 01-30-2017 ::


RUSHING INTO THE DARK HOUR

BENEATH my breath are quiet words
which spirit feeds and fire Eats:
a promulgated non-scientifically
personal fact. A unity of a
membership-less Club of Souls
== the latent release of human-
life. Remarkable abilities
for an animal in terrestrial
nature!

The power of:

self-control
creative power
reconstructive power
power of faith
and the power of
revivification.

Gently, a small reminder:
we are not Gods but
only that god is imprisoned
within each of Us.

The delusion of negative
energy.

And increasing momentum
which the world is rushing
into the Dark Hour.

:: 01-18-2017 ::


PATHéTIQUE

EMOTIONS are just no words
between the wind & just One
are the true feelings when
fleeing life’s seemingly
unjust pain!

AS like, oh tear-filled Soul!
With held-head high and heart
so sweepingly Low and the sky
weeps along with every broken
Spirit as the sun tending bent
stems in far-flung worlds
removes all barges of sand
-sadness against your heart.

And through your pain and
forgiving tears the soul clears
as blue as skies: exists
only for brevity of reprived
mortal pains!

And while the Earth apparently
stirs within mysterious ways,
you whom i shall never forget
who gave birth to love once
again (for me) the festival
is no longer a surprise as
i know your words like pillars
uphold my tender sensibilities:
and loveless life is treasonist
and the crime a punishment of
diminished returns!

:: 01-16-2017 ::