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Pondering leads the way To fallen dams Disorder And stray panicked lines Yet sure is the desperate call Of our rational half The scouring And sly quiet reaper Gradual Then sudden Is the full view of the world The conqueror Of devious dreams And so we must relent Or die awash Left cold On the…
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The drunken nights wind Through the wild Of funerary dreams Derailed, disheveled and lost
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Beneath steep Victorian walls I am jailed by favor Yet quietly despised For I’ll do them no harm From these sun-kissed snares With crazed locks shaven Gelled and kempt For I’m far better off Than the devious lot Devoid of their rage So pleasantly shackled As the daily chorus Ascends from the fields Steadily, driven…
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Without effort I wield A smoke-ridden stare In a downward spiral of words Sullen and swallowed Lost in the battling fury Of verse My travels must wane untold I am a dulled grey haze In a colorful vise So lively, driven and well Too soon are the plains The murderous and empty sprawl Where I…
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The fools sit high and proud Upon their mounds Of their daily prey Atop The gracious doves Their droves all heaving And tussling In the lassos of death How they live and die The need To sustain To feed The impoverished minds Of chiefs
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I fear Its all-encompassing trance Being dragged Through its callous lows Sailing on high To be dashed upon earth For the lingering coils Of certain remorse I fear the wrath Of affectionate others To be given their worlds And their every peak and flaw By night I bear The maddening dreams Of the mindless sinking…
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With taut skin In fiery bleach Scores forge new heights For the blonde And statuesque True beauty The impossible leap Where the world must fawn Or be cast in the muck Where there is no blemish No plague of scars To inspire the climb Of downtrodden eyes Taut skin and bone Must take to the…
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An affectionate spring Is in our midst Whirling brief As the taunting scourge Our relief For the moment We are cradled in warmth In her passionate rays And ever-green plunder Her joy is our own Toiling and raging about Beneath swaths Of transient blue Yet it is but a glimpse A morsel of days to…
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“Good morning” Tumbled away In the shards and mortar Of our finer days And on we say: “To hell with those passive years” For we are lost to wrath In our murdering stride Our revulsion Softly drains With slow saddening ease And to kill is a must To breathe free
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