From somewhere the question comes:
how so?
There's ink in my saliva.
I'm scratching the surface
of the moon with a poem rising.
Do not mourn for me, never yet born,
don't you hear my silence out there
in the stardust, expanding infinity?

I am only a figment of your imagination,
locked inside
your living perception, isolated by needy words.
You'll never know the real me, unless you know
the real you, waves that touch the sun
must first unclench
their grasp of sea.

Cradled in innocent fairy tales
Misery makes impressions on her audience
Ever since ancient times it crowds the stages

Every dream broken like the hopes of yesterday
Victory seems sweet, when surrounded by defeat
No white flags when your enemy is within
Failure’s voice seems so paternal
Until you realize passion’s gift is eternal

Growing sick of this realm , so we build our own
No kings to serve only the appetite of a soul
The snakes of corruption grow in number
As the priests of honesty cower away silently

the distant cry
from within
desire to sweep the past
with sunrise’s fast arrival...
to
let the time’s tolls be due
let flowers reek, perfume somehow
red, crimson and blue
wipe the sweat of my brow
forget the loathe-some
of a long distant occurrence
with demise of thoughts of desperate dreams
manifestations
of things gone astray

THE WARS [APOCALYPSE]

And across the fields
we began to run
each and every one
The enemy was close behind.

Suddenly
a bullet struck my spine
and I fell paralyzed
deep and hard
into the morning mist.

Those still alive
fled
to the other side.

I lay days in the gray
of the dying and dead.
until I could rise
once again
in fear and dread
for there was not where
I would end.