Snow shine

the silver streets

shimmering in the

sun who's forsaken us

the glaring menace

of those streets

makes eyes beg for

days of dull dry

gray pavement

but it seems

snow can't help but fall

from imaginary clouds

in the grim and

hateful sky

and those flakes

of forgotten content

reflect the memory

of a kinder sun

into weary eyes

An olive branch to Hell

such sweet divine speech
so practice what you preach
forgiveness of the sins against
man, against God himself
and yet he himself can't bring
his right hand of wrath
to absolve his own enemy
he indeed would grave
ego be to not put in place
his own plan for the peace
of humanity and the world
into his very own heart
for the word proclaims
God is love and love
keeps no records of wrongs
and the greatest of these
is love, to embrace thine
own enemy and yet will he
yet does he, an olive branch
outstretched to the gates of Hell
such bitter condemning speech
a practitioner of what you preach

House of many lives

I found myself walking though
a mansion last night
a house of long ago that
may have never been a home
yet the photos on the walls
showed the servant lived as
an equal to his master
and as I passed through
all the many rooms
each room became bigger
than the room before
there was also much debate
of where each piece of
furniture should be placed
as though the vacated house
was left in disarray
and indeed beds were set up
in the banquet hall and
pianos left in dressing rooms
and I was no longer alone
but speaking with many
who had become my party
in walking this house
we consorted in the tour
and realized to take up residence
perhaps starting up where
someone else left off
in this house of many lives
in this house many times

Shore leave

from wetted sands

the winds tickle the barren plain

as those adrift scratch

their heads

atop their landlocked sea-legs

for oceans have pulled their

rugs from under

the feet of those landlocked sea-legs

and drifting pauses in puzzlement

while rotting time drapes

across stones

a silent sand quickly losing

the luster of its marine wonders

bakes in the ethereal expanse

of evaporating horizons

the call of lapping waves

sings no more for the dance

of those landlocked sea-legs

and stranded in salty sand

those once adrift

shed their tears

in hope the ocean will return

New norm

we've bred a brood of vipers

and live within its walls

each viper at attention

ready to strike with venom

filled fangs and bite

and our air is filled with hisses

instead of friendly hellos

and lovers kisses

all of what needs defended

has all but vanished

as the vipers focus on

everything to be offended

and it is pretended

that all will be okay

if we leave our lives

to the snakes

Snow crunch

how soon the crunch

of leaves

can transfigure into

the crunch of snow

and the many hues

that were plastered

on the lawn by the

trees with their oil knife

have been wiped

away by a linseed cloth

revealing the blank

empty white

of the canvas skin

the winter kin