Thursday, February 22, 2018

Those that never were

were they ever
the mortar between
the bricks
what glued this
time with that
who fed the kings
when they were babes
who pushed scientists
to explore certain subjects
who tended the tree
that grew the apple
that fell on some one's head
those who labored for
wool that weaved an empire
or tended worms
to build a road of silk
what is built with
their bones
what is scattered
with their screams
what is held tightly
within their dreams
of those that never were



Monday, February 19, 2018

The house of again

relentless phantoms
who drag my eyelids
down over my windows
drawing the blinds
and draping the sheet
over my sleep
carefully carrying me
cradled to their bosom
and dropping me into
the dark well of dreams
of their screams
a night to awake
within their house
again and again
with its numerous rooms
and cavernous ceilings
and the dreadful attic
where they entertain
their guests and I
who see other worldly ways
and who they are
their ethereal bodies
rising from their beds
as though we have both
been beckoned to this plane
from our respective realms
and that I may hold
a message just as surely
as they bare one for me
taking me through the halls
a doorway is passed
out into the grounds
where though I don't see
I have seen heaven bloom
from the bare garden dirt
yet heaven now sleeps
in the bowels of hell
and we hurry to
a smaller house of the keeper
and one large room
with bookcase under lock and key
of which is given me
though the key is turned
I see neither my arm nor hand
and unburden the open drawer
of its numerous books
I flip through several bibles
as it was whispered something
may be in their pages
the last bible I find I begin
to flip through but stop
its weight grows heavy
and falls to the floor
bearing the word Sakurnz
I hold it no more




Thursday, February 15, 2018

Sower's dream

seeds turn to leaves
in the sower's dream
out of the soil
emerges the realized
hope from within the shell
buds blossom and bloom
with all the colors
displayed in the rain
after a tempest
tendrils reach and curl
as stretching cats and dogs
awaking from naps
roots dig down and deep
with ravenous fervor
and thoughts of thirst
fields are full
with swaying stems
and forests fill
with the lullaby
of creaking boughs
breezes put adrift
cotton clouds of seeds
that turn to leaves
in the sower's dream



Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Us



they flow through themselves
never being entirely of oneself
even while appearing to be
as their whole ebbs and
flows into other states of being
they always return to be as one
in whatever form they choose
or their surroundings choose for them
they cannot escape their entirety
and no matter how adulterated
they might become while away
they return to be as pure as 
they were when they left
they are storms of wrath
and pools of serenity
they are mists of despondence
they are fountains of laughter
they are tickling drops
and steams of comfort
they are quenching and flooding
and drowning
they are us



Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Grandpa

dust of those
western roads
still rests in
his lungs
where it tells
its tall tales
to at least seven
decades of
tobacco soot

its favorite is
about Betty Lou
who can bring
most anyone out
of their blues
with her smile

and how the
cloudless prairie sky
has nothing on
the hue of her eyes

and how Mr. Williams
took the words
right out his mouth
when she was cooking

and how she is still
willing to help out anyone
needing it even though
she needs it more
these days

and how she helped
him the most
pretty near all
his life and still
does simply by
being there

guess not all the tales
dust has to tell
are tall ones




Tuesday, February 6, 2018

Snow angels

a tree scratched sky
lies above us
in the dismal gray
of the approaching
February eve
flakes that fell
yesterday fuse
together under
the pressure of
our exhausted bodies
those dark tears
in the sky
those sprawling arms
those sharp and
silent frozen vipers
only slightly sway
above the bodies
we left behind




Monday, February 5, 2018

The smell of wet paper

ink bled when
the pen sailed through
the puddled tears
collecting on a piece
of notebook paper
and some of her last
words were muddled
and hard to discern
their intent were as
clear as the August day
she decided not to
any longer
the kick of the stool
was her last choice
the strength of the
rope was her last hope
and the August wind
took away her last breath





Sunday, February 4, 2018

Hybrid

drops mingle
as two alpha pythons
passing one another
ready to start consuming
the other at its tail

swirls the double helix
in a cyclonic fury
found on the plains
as strands either
chase or bolt in
their joint dance

these opposing poles
in their magnetic clasp
of one being with
two battling bloods
how even his
atoms are repulsed
by each other

though heaven
has wept and hell has
erupted within his
trembling veins
the stars still
tethered to his
corpse keep him
upon this earth



Tuesday, January 30, 2018

Tears of the ancients

it shall fall on mankind
the tears of the ancients
and they will be found
upon the dry earth left
behind and in the waters
tainted by hatred and
in the very air of greed

the tears of the ancients
will bear witness to the
downfall of mankind
and will be a tidal wave
through their numbers
and will lead emptiness
throughout the lands

no weapon mankind
will find to raise against
this enemy and shall
long for the tears to
have never flown from
their frozen bearers
yet the ancients shall
not harbor any pity




Friday, January 26, 2018

Melt the gods

stone hearts
rolling in those
immortal breasts
icy judgment
so precise
unflinching words
in uninhibited wrath
wide eyed
soul-piercing stares
of the statuesque
accusers and blamers
in this moment
of eternity

their frozen
disapproval loses
its balance
on those infamous scales
their stone hearts
are met with
feather and wedge
their wide eyed
stares tear and
flow as rivers
to the seas
when a mother
hugs her child
when a community
embraces its own
when a nation
feeds its hungry
when humanity
is humane