The moments end at last, everyone dies alone.
But when the soul should pass, will time still have a home?
We wonder and we ask, we struggle as we hone.
With recalled joy surpass, sweet memories we comb.
Gazing into the past, new threads of light are sewn.
Despite betrayal alas, we will have surely grown.
Across a great crevasse, above the river's foam.
The sun's radiance basks, the darkness, the unknown.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
One Eyed Crow
A one eyed crow sits vulnerable in the snow
Sick from cold, ruffled feathers and alone
Isolation
He peers up at me, bearing a milk white, swollen, marble eye
Telling myself this crow will live, but knowing this to be a lie
Isolation
Once a magnificent raven, obsidian wings glinting in the sunlight
Now an old forgotten soul, sick with fear and without sight
Isolation
Strength of gravity pulling hard on his bones
Tying him to the pavement while he twitters a barely audible moan
Isolation
But high up in the tree, what do I see?
I see a watchman, looking closely at me
Perceived Isolation
His brother, his tribesman, his friend, lovingly protects
As his compadre leaves this place of suffering and moves on to the next
Perceived Isolation
Everyone dies alone, One Eyed Crow entering the realms of the stars
But remember, there are those who love you sitting watching from afar
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Below the Mesa...
A red sun collapses, a spirit relapses.
Upon the desert floor, beckons a darkened door.
A feeling of unrest, what lurks beyond the crest?
Eyes fixed upon a cave, the scenery engraved.
I fight to turn away, my gaze, the wind it sways.
A dry leaf cracks and falls, to this, attention draws.
My companion cries out, for this, there is no doubt!
I turn back towards it, my startled mind is split.
A crease in space and time, unfolds to the sublime.
My eyes do not concur, with what my brain would blur.
A white wolf? A desert sloth? A moving sunlit swath?
A crescent moon descends, without feet, it extends.
Its shape and form defy, my logic goes awry.
Smoke-like, frost-white skin, light flowing from within.
Its sneaking smile creeps, I know not, if It leaps.
For breath, my reason gasps, its face, I cannot grasp.
I have no thought to stay. Fear becomes, I run away.
No heed of nearby thorns, as if by blood I've sworn.
Many years have gone past, the memory, long last.
I still think of its grin, that eve, I saw the Jinn.
Upon the desert floor, beckons a darkened door.
A feeling of unrest, what lurks beyond the crest?
Eyes fixed upon a cave, the scenery engraved.
I fight to turn away, my gaze, the wind it sways.
A dry leaf cracks and falls, to this, attention draws.
My companion cries out, for this, there is no doubt!
I turn back towards it, my startled mind is split.
A crease in space and time, unfolds to the sublime.
My eyes do not concur, with what my brain would blur.
A white wolf? A desert sloth? A moving sunlit swath?
A crescent moon descends, without feet, it extends.
Its shape and form defy, my logic goes awry.
Smoke-like, frost-white skin, light flowing from within.
Its sneaking smile creeps, I know not, if It leaps.
For breath, my reason gasps, its face, I cannot grasp.
I have no thought to stay. Fear becomes, I run away.
No heed of nearby thorns, as if by blood I've sworn.
Many years have gone past, the memory, long last.
I still think of its grin, that eve, I saw the Jinn.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Swashbuckler's Anthem or Ode to the Sea
Arrggh, she blows abreast,
she flows... arouse... arouse.
Captain`s distress, upon thy quest,
eerie o' yer pendin' death.
Whenereshe sings, her sweet voice brings
shortness o' th' breath.
Arrrggh, she sways amidst,
she stays... arrouse... arrouse.
Have yersef a whisky swig,
dances o' yer splendid jig.
A tirin' view, refreshed anew,
gazes o' her green an' blue.
Arrrrggh, she yells across
she swells... arrrose... arrrose.
Ye heart `t sighs, as her mist flies,
echo o' her squallin' cries.
Oh so fierce, her beauty lies
underneath o' gentle skies.
Aaaayyyye, her freedom 't bestow
yearnin' o' lonngglast ... furlough.
Arrrrrgggh... to ride-to rawhhiiiide,
ARRRRRRGGGH!
she flows... arouse... arouse.
Captain`s distress, upon thy quest,
eerie o' yer pendin' death.
Whenereshe sings, her sweet voice brings
shortness o' th' breath.
Arrrggh, she sways amidst,
she stays... arrouse... arrouse.
Have yersef a whisky swig,
dances o' yer splendid jig.
A tirin' view, refreshed anew,
gazes o' her green an' blue.
Arrrrggh, she yells across
she swells... arrrose... arrrose.
Ye heart `t sighs, as her mist flies,
echo o' her squallin' cries.
Oh so fierce, her beauty lies
underneath o' gentle skies.
Aaaayyyye, her freedom 't bestow
yearnin' o' lonngglast ... furlough.
Arrrrrgggh... to ride-to rawhhiiiide,
ARRRRRRGGGH!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Polite?
At times thoughout the day,
hoards of zombies come to say,
of what, they do not know,
pure avoidance makes this so.
Without meaning, without care,
language betrayed in lazy fare.
Real thoughts solely introverted,
friendship utterly perverted.
Shriveled vestige all but left,
authentic reasoning bereft.
Perhaps liking to be a sport,
incapable of genuine retort!?
hoards of zombies come to say,
of what, they do not know,
pure avoidance makes this so.
Without meaning, without care,
language betrayed in lazy fare.
Real thoughts solely introverted,
friendship utterly perverted.
Shriveled vestige all but left,
authentic reasoning bereft.
Perhaps liking to be a sport,
incapable of genuine retort!?
Monday, November 17, 2008
Floater
I am the floater,
the plump-bellied,
hairy-chested, floater.
Stretch my wings,
with long drawn sigh,
stare up into the sky.
With short breast-stoke,
float on over,
wading as a plover.
A point of chin,
Engage chit-chat,
Pitty-pat, pitty-pat.
Will you eat my succulent meat?
Will you drink wine from my bota?
the plump-bellied,
hairy-chested, floater.
Stretch my wings,
with long drawn sigh,
stare up into the sky.
With short breast-stoke,
float on over,
wading as a plover.
A point of chin,
Engage chit-chat,
Pitty-pat, pitty-pat.
Will you eat my succulent meat?
Will you drink wine from my bota?
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Precious Practice
Pondering her propensity to pick perfect peppers for pickling,
she perused the practicality of protecting her plants from pestulance.
Pinpointing the perilous problems with propietary pesticides,
she prepared for a positive part by patiently pandering to paradise.
Proclaiming a plan to promote predators to pursue prying pests,
she pragmatically produced persistence prior to prominent plucking.
Pausing to position her posse,
she proposed a party at her place.
she perused the practicality of protecting her plants from pestulance.
Pinpointing the perilous problems with propietary pesticides,
she prepared for a positive part by patiently pandering to paradise.
Proclaiming a plan to promote predators to pursue prying pests,
she pragmatically produced persistence prior to prominent plucking.
Pausing to position her posse,
she proposed a party at her place.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
A Desert Epiphany
The unabashed,
rabbit on disgusting lawn.
Domesticated habits,
queerly spawn.
Sunbeams seen,
heat suckling water.
Dry desert stream,
insanity to dream.
Andes' hair,
wind whistles sweep.
Electrons dance the night,
organic acids keep.
Eyes meet,
landscape befallen.
Compounded strings retreat,
the old man eludes defeat.
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