Feathers

hold me in your stoic arms

as I shed the form I chose

these feathers weren't meant 

for the flight I'm now in

they must remain with you

in your subtle changes

that time often overlooks

I leave the tears of my body

embedded in your porous flesh

a drink you can raise your glass to

and remember me when

I've blown away with winter

Turvy George

belly up

quite right in this world

the topsy-turvy

becoming more tipsy

than topsy

and drunker the drinker

who drank this drink

and drinks until

they sing to the sink

belly up throw up

for nothing can

be kept down

not what's served

from the turvy crown

yet we only puke

and only will continue

until someone dares

tell turvy George

his piss has turned blue

Yenuta's hymn

the fluid weather ways

of slithering Yenuta

who flies through clouds

in his serpentine chariot

his winged snakes strike

the earth in flashing fright

when he grows restless

his mood turns dark

and thunders within

his cloudy temple home

when he is distant

life recedes from green

and thirsty prayers are

raised to his temple home

in hanging gourd vines

the fluid weather ways

of slithering Yenuta

who pours down onto

his brother's flesh

to renew the life

the battle of this world

Hulena's song

a golden crown
hers melts all others
with softest touch
the mother of mothers
and pierces the dark
knowing each heart
Queen Hulena shines

she flows through trees
and comforts the cold
her altar the hearth
where wisdom is told
and pierces the dark
knowing each heart
Queen Hulena reigns

her hair is afire
her heart is the heat
her hands to inspire
ignorance to defeat
and pierces the dark
knowing each heart
Queen Hulena calls

The grassy sea

are they demons
that drag me into the grassy sea
where remnants of vivid silks
and velvet are strewn
across the blades
the victims of the tempest breeze
that bleed out in the green
of earth and blue of sky

are they demons
the scents that lure
one into oblivion and memory
of life with wings
of golden dust
the nectar lust
sunrise glory fading into
the fields for ravenous feasts
at least of these
a sip, a drip on parched lips
that these demons
pour from their glamour cups

and their laughter resounds
in the calling lark and
humming bee
when their well is spent
and my despair has been
bought in full
yet I'm in their debt
for my thirst knows no end
in the grassy sea
they drag me to

Remembering Romanovs

how we're drowning in dribble

the babble has boiled over

yet no one is minding the stove

and minding without question

is insanity

when it comes to humanity

but I digress

in this address he vomited 

as our Nero does again

and again to the deflection

of those elected 

until instead one of their own

he sets his ravenous insults upon

they might have mind to portray

a scene for Julius to their pleasure

and sharpen their blades

for good measure

yet meanwhile we are

drowning in the dribble

waiting, but not much longer

for a dog will always shake

the water from its back

even if it happens 

to be orange juice

and fling those drops

to the dark edges of the cosmos

Hands to feet

these weathered hands
can't release their wear
each crease of skin
each scar of wound
each mole
each age spot
they form constellations
recounting this life
held in these hands

these battled bones
can't hold onto
what was never theirs
they must rattle
in the constant wind
play a chime
high in the tree
they were hung in long ago

these worn out feet
can't find their path
each turn they've made
only to find a dead end
and they continue on
to the end of the circle
and to wherever
dead may be

Fireflies

how we've become
the fireflies
when the sun has sunk
past the horizon
to leave a blank
black canvas
for all of our lights
to shine against
all with our own
blip of phosphorescence
of existence
the glimmer
of glamour
in that single second
of light in the dark
the excitement
enchantment
hope and awe
when all these
momentary
here I am's
sparkle in the
nothingness of night
each a star
whose light faded
well before life
began for us

Blank

simple thoughts

darts thrown with a chance

to pierce some inspiration

but what can grow

when the trees are

in a constant fall

the earth tugs too much

and water within

the veins and veins of cells

weigh just too damn much

simple thoughts

are flightless birds these days

perhaps frozen at

one of the poles

or scorched in savanna

either one is appropriate

for this death too near

yet still waiting in the wings

Lawrence

in dreams I've found

if you state the town

you happen to be in

the locals will laugh

seems to be a ludicrous

idea to dare mention

the locale your located in

so I chose to tell these

denizens in their hyena

states that if it was so

laughable to state their

home's name that I

would call them all by

some other name than

what they go by

the first was Chip, and

then a Ted and Sky

until at last a Bud rang

out from my mouth

they asked me what

made me think of that

name of all names

I shouted pot and that

was even more laughable

than mentioning this

town I happened to

spend my night's sleep in