The stream (all workshops)
Sometimes when I look up to the stars
shining in the sky.
I wonder, if anything more amazing
ever passed before my eyes.
Then I think of you.
Sometimes when I see the golden glow
of an autumn tree.
I wonder if anything more beautiful
ever stood in front of me.
Then I think of you.
INK BLOT ON THE PAGE
You're gonna love the man who brought it,
You're gonna be the one who bought it,
You're gonna love the way you feel at first;
You'll look at life through different eyes, babe,
You're gonna see through all them lies, but
Just stop to think, does it really quench your thirst?
Soul seeker's fate
A surreal trip through a hall of mirrors
Distorted irrevocably warped,
visions of the elephant man.
Distended frame ,bowed and bent
Wizened creature life force spent
Vile technician of pain.
Ripping hearts and souls usunder
Dancing on graves,
The Soul Seeker on the attack.
Bitter denizen of the shadows
Sucker of the vital vein.
Rejuvenation of the youth he lacks
Ladders used to be my friend
they carried me near to the sky
but now I fear that time's at end
as days of youth have passed me by
I still recall how I would hurl
myself up steps into the trees
as if I were a scaling squirrel
ascending often as I'd please
Countless time per day I'd go
up and down on legs of steel
I thought it would always be so
an assurance time was bound to steal
Mother, O' mother
what have you done?
Turned your youngest daughter
into a son!
Conceived in the dark
of a closet room
forever cursed with
the mark of doom.
Child unwanted,
mother's remorse
dejected father
steers a new course.
She-male baby
unloved as a lass
bitter and sharp
as underfoot glass.
Child always told
she was father's lament,
lies from the mother
resentfully spent.
Cascades... flowing
tears trickling down
All the while going
down, down the gown.
Cascades... drowning
waters swishing together
And completely surrounding
My girl, named Heather.
Cascades... crying
her eyes moistening
From a sadness so trying
that I just can't help running.
Cascades are what they are,
Flowing like fingers across the guitar.
The seedling sprouts, it bursts through ground,
silently growing, never making a sound.
First is the stem, then comes the leaves,
now watch a seedling, growing amongst trees.
In its lush green meadow, a trickling stream,
its roots swarm to the water, its elixir, its dream.
Small animals calling its branches their home,
as it hears insects wings drone.
Still standing silent, never making a sound,
content in its world, content in the ground.
It listens to songbirds singing away,
Lying on the battlefield, stunned by a near death blow
He was woken by fetid breath, cold as the new fallen snow
He felt the sharpness of the teeth, pain exquisite, so bright
He was slipping from this world, when a bolt came through the night
Blue flame surrounded him, and he heard the hammer fall
The "god of thunder" had heard... a true, great warrior call
The vision of that horror, a thing that was of the night
Was limned, struck down and blasted, from his very sight
Opinions form before words
they swarm every syllable
subjected to recourse the
hollow hoarse, what else
of course.
Reasons fall victim to treason
upon any plinth that shatters,
the faithful rally not now
don't dilly dally.
The brave never behave
fame etched here on the
grave, remembered in verse
departed yet still belong.
I digress at your behest
my time in passing I won't
invest, subjected but none
the less beyond the intersection
of interaction may well detest.
Deprivation
Deprivation
Is the sperm,
For poetic emotional creation,
Without which there can be
No procreation.
Two are needed,
One a sperm
Another
An ovum
And
In creativity your are
The natural sperm
And
Mind, is your ovum
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