A bleak winter scape
Painted beyond cold panes of glass
Scarified grass withered and dry

The wind screams insults at him
Rattling the sill, seeking egress
The Wolf is at the door

Scarred wooden desk
Steaming cuppa coffee
Half smoked joint and cookie

The crap in his lungs
The ache in his bones
His robe belted tightly

Outside his domain
The world bright and cheerful
Bah! Humbug, a prisoner of himself

autumn wind blew strong and the night leaves
cast shadows like hands scratching ground
the sounds were the sounds of old echoes
who whispered their way into terrified ears
while hearts feared all the trees would come down

the moon hid unlit behind black sky
mars, red-faced, escaped his jailed form
the giant was there, nonetheless
and his essence escaped, away, light years to fly
through that sky's dark and grey crying clouds

Night wraps around long shadows
colors them darker still
His soul huddles with magic
bending it to his will

Crouching in the darkness
his eyes glowing faintly red
The blood of his victim clotting
as he sucks the eyes from it's head

Crimson fluid flowing
tasty as can be
He slurps, swallows and belches
ready for course number three

He finds it hangs where he left it
like a spider-meal wrapped in silk
High in the tower of a castle
a snack, like cookies and milk

January isn't my new year
October brings new color everywhere
a month of change and coming cheer
and filled gun racks here and there.

Companionship around a camp fire
with tales of hunts from long ago
inflamed bucks' intense desire
discussing where we ought to go.

The smell of gun powder and oil
and wet wool on rainy days
looking forward to the coming toil
of dragging deers where puddles glaze.

If you carry a bellyful of discontent for me; show it now
At this time all that breathes; squirms by my twisted actions
Hold their hand in this well earned malice and make me crawl
Do not appear in sudden flair of pity afterwards
Oh woe in my mirror; do not do this as my soul does witness this wretchedness
Nor enter behind me through a crack unguarded of this beaten fiend
Do not allow today’s hanging low of black cloudiness
turn to hurricanes in hours coming
Then delay a goal of measured depose

The powder piled in a isolated center on the hot liquid
Her head tilted, curious, as it simply melted down the dark quiet
Until the last grain stubbornly sank below the black scalding mirror

Yes, this was the way she lived it; the way she saw it, felt it, despised it
Slow, powdered, black and white
So God awfully hot that nothing could survive it
She just swallows and ignores the burn; in the dark quiet

K. Mulroney

In the dark, dusty corners
of an exposed brain;
a seed has been growing,
past roots of deep pain.

A little hand of compassion,
intuitive to unseen travails,
planted love in kind fashion;
a seed so small, now pivotal.

Method of the many masks,
now a common commodity.
Her own, a burdened task;
heavy, after the heart’s robbery.

Without sunlight and care,
the seed sat amongst ruins.
Holding what could be spared.
A brokenness that drew in,
sentience to what's not fair.

If I could patent what it is I do wrong,
whenever my intentions are wearing white,
I could own the moon.
My edges are not sharp by any means.
But covered with slime of some crime
I didn’t know I committed.
Trying to pinpoint where the ruin begins, is like counting sand.
The crevices where I talk are to small for a
whisper to squeeze through.
Caverns where the echoes fall are enormously small.

In a dress of red on an ocean bled
Finest of silk thread, finest in the land
Perhaps she was dead some of them said
Maybe you should come take her hand

She laid upon a seedy bed
Broken broomstick in the sand
With a warm bloody bedspread
Her head broken where she crashed on land

They fled from what witches all dread
Seeking shelter in a broken down shed
The two were wed with wedding bands
Not daring to take chances instead

One heart, one head, one voice

Two people

Three reasons not to love you

Four reasons I should

Five friends tell me no

Six girls before me - wow

Seven "accidents" I can forgive

Eight will break me

Nine times you've said we're through

Ten times too many tears for you

Eleven long months I called you mine

But I'm over you in Twelve short lines