It was cold and windy, always seemed to be the same
whenever he dug out a grave and often it would rain.
Grave digging was something he knew someone had to do
that was his job and he always took pride in doing it too.
People knew him in the village where he’d made his home
this strange young man, who was always on his own.

Sometimes it feels like the pulsing energy of the sun
Other times there is barely a spark
Or is it really a rotation of night and day

Where does it go, where does it go?

I feel the flow from head to toe
Yet it passes in time, as if I were dead
Is it life or is it death

Where does it go, where does it go?

Sometimes it’s one, at times it’s two
Or can two be like one
Then what of two in simple repose

Where does it go, where does it go?

There are other things besides writing,
but the pen loves me like no other;
never holding back
unless being watched
by those over-the-shoulder-fuckers ...

scared rabbits;
don't offer me no carrots.

Freeing, isn't it;
saying it out loud,
writing it down,
getting lost in the ink,
the lines on the page;
giving in to the rage.

Body shaking violently
Tears flooding my vision
Knees lock in place
Fist clenched at my side
Sobs ripped out of my chest

No longer have a heart
It’s splintered and gone,
along with my sanity

Insomnia attacks
Depression appears
Suffering begins
Suicidal thoughts

Your vindictive smile
Sends me running
I used to be strong
I should have fought
I believed your lies
Threw my life away
Forced my hand
It needs to end

emasse
in the paradise of fault
the image is full of shadows
and ghosts like a negative
repeater shot

how I long for the brightness
and everyone says I have to
belong
and If I stay an outsider
in the quiet at the edge
where I can watch the stars

point your finger but theres space
now and I dont feel the bruise
on my chest

I still look up and let the snow fall
on my closed eyes
I can still reach that beauty
in a breath

Love and Kisses
I don't know why
When we say love,
The mind goes straight
To sex and lust,
Have we all forgotten?
Moms, pops, siblings
Kids and puppy love,
Which has no tinge of lust?
I suppose all minds have only rust

You are pathetic, you make me sick.
The stench of your banality
Permeates every pore.

I look at you and the violence within rises.
I want to destroy you,
Cave you in.

You have no shame,
and expel your innards,
vomit them over those about you.

Smug little features make me want to
Smack you down.
I'm gonna knock out.

A veneer of sweetness
That Makes me wanna puke
I'm gonna knock you down

Im going to expose you
You're a fraud,
You're my enemy

It's such a curiosity
when I write a poem, each day;

I'm not prone towards ambiguosity
but, it's still missed, what I've tried to say!

My verses aren't extraordinary
to ignite thoughts' spark's the goal,

I may be a candidate for dictionary lessons
if my train of thought's not, "whole"!

I could try another language
but, in the time it takes to learn,

with their nounages, and verbages,
I'd invent a "me" that foreigners, could spurn!

Rudeness personified
my aching vertibrae,

wearily I rise to my feet
and the room begins to sway;

grinding palpatations
awakes my body to the light,

the fresh sterility of the day
has all but erased the dark of night.

Reality can wearily
drape black crepe over me,

because my expectations
were too great to ever be;

sideways indignation
I alone, can hope to feel,

from your casual reaction
I see my solitude is real.

The color has all but drained
from the eyes inside my head,

I know the time will soon be here
when long sylvan walks will end
the only way I'll see a deer
will be on a road around the bend

For now I'll grin through my knee pain
and limp around, no hint of grace
so as to increase memories' gain
though slow may be my halting pace

For I must hoard remembered sights
while there's still the chance to see
the forest under varied lights
it's understated majesty