Movement of trees

they only choose to move

when the persistent winds

persuade them to

and when the heat has

drank its fill of any

remaining drops of life

and when the wind hurls

insults through July

into August

they only lazily toss

about like tails

of napping cats

in the afternoon

yet when the world

turns too fast in turning

seasons when cold

and heat are restless lovers

beneath the sheets

they are the ladies losing

lace handkerchiefs in

all the fashionable colors

and when the cold

penetrates the soil to

tell the worms it's time

to sleep and dream

they haven't a care

to move at all

but when the tempest

roars through the 

evening skies in thundering

splendor and shock

they humbly bow low

to the bellow of the breeze

this the movement of trees

Choiceless

heart defective lips
the scalpel blade to slice
indifferent of blood
seeping
leaking
adulterating the life
left scarred and maimed

what's said is sowed
into the soil of the soul
and will expand
growng
flowing
pouring in behind
eyes that have no voice

now all sealed shut
the window within window
rattling in the wind
aching
breaking
giving in eventually
to the unrelenting pain

shock soon follows
as words shatter in the cold
and left is the shell
fading
trading
leaving it behind
to reach for the divine

The written world

Tweet

twas a bird of a different call
some voice unheard of
off behind or between an
unseen building perch

its song a toss of
colored scarves exploding
from some firework wand
to vibrantly, boisterously say,
"Hey baby, over here"

at least in the rapturing
written bird words floating
in the early morning air
that is to say, and was

to some distant feathery
ear waiting in a similar
behind or between unseen
building perch across a
sea of pavement and tar

Nameless

never was I here
never shall be
longing for a breath
a voice, a call, a turn
of head to stop and see
never was a stone
to stay and state
here was I
to verify, here I be
least what's left of me
they've all closed
their eyes and drifted
off into mirky skies
and do not see me here
for no one lingers still
to say they knew me
to remember my steps
in my path in my way
no one left to say
I was here

Stake

procession of feet
marching fury set aflame
by boiling fear
the ignorant hysteria
dressed in hateful sneer

once friends or
at least fellow citizens
now cry for blood
for melting flesh
for death and all the rest

blank the stare
now my soul has left
a shell only rides
to that spot
where thirsty roots
sip convicted blood

my flesh numb
within leaving daylight
only memories
cry to me
sewing by the hearth
smell of wet earth

I cannot hear
will not even listen
to their cries
I leave them in silence
to their lust for violence

I am elsewhere
inside the heart of you
you took me
under the waxing moon
under ancient fateful stars

I am your altar
on which to reach beyond
this current madness
the sacrifice
I gladly give to you
when my time is through

For I know more
than they will ever want
for you showed me
from the sky
all of what's below
the soon and now and long ago

they bound me now
with ropes to soon burn away
and free I shall be
to join you
from this I shall awake
and leave behind what's at stake

Here's why

T. Profile a despicable cad
never much cared for him
disproportionately tipsy
scowling brow and smug grin

then E. Belly plays victim
riving in hunger then pain
having a knife in his back
from the villainous P. Brain

Miss Wrist and Madame Hip
creak and groan in the cold
whereas N. Lips are too shy
aged P. U. Feet are too bold

nobody seems to recognize
what O. Heart really wants
abandoning dreams and
hopes and long senseless hunts

the group of adolescent
fingers only annoy S. Cranium
and U. R. Glutes are to all as
radioactive as uranium

so it is posed why in
the world so much hate and fear
the reason is within the self
the root of war feeds here

Turned

only until that day I never knew

the little glory you really held

for you always shone bright

in front of me, in front of all

that was always your way 

to catch the view of every eye

to glimmer for every passerby

who might pay you some care

but for me that time has passed

and I will neither stop nor stare

your yellow song haunts me none

and I no longer see you as the sun

those joys have now withered from view

since the day you turned away