The stream (all workshops)
sit at the tables long width
the stool and I lean
with elbows and folded arm
while sipping dark roast
and watching the charm
of easy drama
the black raven dropping
from the nest atop
the microwave tower
the traffic bunched at the lights
reading trade names
colours
and passer-bys in pace
and gait
the pretty new cars
shinning with the sunlight
radio plays something hip
for the young
tangible for the elders
Just the simple honeybee
doesn't seem like much to see
until there came that final spring
when there were no more to sting
No buzz among the flowering plants
which threw everything askance
no pollination for the year
and that is what lead us to here
Stick people stumbling all around
starving and falling to the ground
half mankind killed in useless war
which spread like an infected sore
Terror burns like a raging fire
searing the soul,
melting all self control.
It singes and
peels back the layers,
desiccating the spirit.
Cauterize the infection,
liberate my mind.
Set me on the path to redemption.
Incarcerate and tame the devil within.
our luck was used up Dad
we were engulfed with
obvious things, with life,
rage, love and uncertainty
your long battle
made you weary,
i refused to let you be
you forgot how to fight
i never wrote this
when you died,
at ten; childish
too hard to understand
gravities of life
before i stiffen and join you
wherever that is
you'd be annoyed,
i smoke, drink,
generally carouse
and i am not at all like you
it's not your fault
i allowed it to be
There he sits alone and still
they think he talks to God
when his eyes are glazed and far away
he has them all fooled
again
He communes but not with God
his master is the fallen angel
who misleads all with lies
including this acolyte
Who now rises with a plan
time to sacrifice another man
or a woman, even child
matters not to him
the bomber
PRE-LIBERATION (THE WALL FLOWER'S PRAYER)
.
.
Must be all alone to really be me-
Don’t want anyone to know or see me
Sitting alone in a corner of the
Room-
Man in the corner feels so low, he
Watches the shadows flit by slowly,
Wishing he was alone and safely
Home;
Asking himself for the hundredth time
Why he ever agreed to come,
Was it just his hope for something
More?
He never really understood
What it was made others feel so
Good…
.
.
Here's something that's rarely fathomed
a thing that's been left unsaid,
but, there is actually a King of the Gnomes
and they call him, Freeze Frame Fred!
He keeps a rather low profile
as he's merely the King of the "pawns",
he's foreverly been fashioned in five different colors
out standing on everyone's lawns.
He has no special powers
popularity has given him fame,
he may be in charge of all the other Gnomes
but, moderocity is his only game.
Darkness
The beauty of its perfect
Solitude
Enveloping me in an
Embrace
Others not seeing the
Advantage
Of developed moon night
Gaze
The quiet of its noble
Grace
Moving unafraid with
Oneness
Ebony darkness, cool and tranquil in
Silence
rising like cracks
the dark stain
fanning like sticky smoke
we were rooted
the fascinations burning into us
like a brand
we could feel the
swelling
we could taste the
hot bite
the whole dream jumped
into yesterday
and replayed
and we wore
tragic jacket
attire
standing in the grass
the tall buckles
catching dry stalks
and the glitter of all
that crap on the dashboard
driven the four hundred miles
folded by time
by horror and fate
Emily my love
How is it
That you are so far away
I can never hold you in my arms
But you are so close
I can never let you go in my heart
How is it
I can see your smile
And never taste your lips
How is it
I can close my eyes and dream of you
Then open my eyes
And my dreams never come true
How is it
In this whole crazy world
Two lost souls found each other
The way we did
How is it
We will never kiss
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