a face
your face
not just a physical structure
hard set by boney beams
but a response to life

self customizing
moment to moment

you are a drama queen
a quick change artist
in wide screen

"now showing"

a nuanced teleplay of you
read and reviewed easily
by even the new illiterate chic

no private pages
no blindfolded lines
no redacting masks
that aren't revealing
in and of themselves

Politics of future world

What will be your guises when you return,
can you take my mind to dance upon beaches.
Could you be masquerading at the lectern,
chasing sleeping morals beyond our reaches.

These questions I ask with candid voice,
equating your answers to be in part lying.
Loosing all command of fraternal feeling,
clinging to your words litigation simplifying.

What price the prancing prince,
who dances on the bones of better men.
Causing the proudest now to wince,
families to dream and all hope abandon.

Her wish to go to church eternal
Granted finally by pulmonary accident
Attack on battered heart sent shocks
Sugar level assisted a flushing flow
That which numbed the brain into a coma
Seven days in counting, breathing stopped
Madam Elsie, our mother, is dead

Bedridden by incapacitating illness
With days of worthy services behind
She wanted an end to her unhappiness
To stop the pains of a suffering flesh
Of lonely unproductive moments
And of the strains she put on her brood
Madam Elsie died to free them all

behind the lush dark of blind
night breaths
sweet and capricious

there is a whisper of clouds
and the harsh pinprick of stars
glittering

softness gathers in the folds of
dreams this intricate
gate holding a gardens worth
of suffecient satisfactions

and patterns sleeping
in the secret grass