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INNOCENT LIES
A hook on the tongue.
Blood in the sun.
Innocent lies, seen in dying eyes.
The meat now rots.
In minds forgot.
Shaping souls which ghosts uphold.
Can’t you see the shape of time.
Can’t you release what was mine.
Hearts vibrate, as the world deliberates.
And your skin will stain.
While guilt remains.
Consequence beyond, (sigh) as heaven responds.
DEATH IN LONGING – PART II
He moved away the furniture.
And closed the windows and blinds.
Shutting out the world completely.
Dark visions now peppering his mind.
As the blood pooled on the kitchen table.
And the wallpaper pealed over to see.
What had started in love and tenderness.
Was now silenced from its desperate plea.
The face stared back with a knowing.
The cut lip spilling secrets and shame.
So he threw over it the yellow tablecloth.
And cried while he whispered their name.
Then he fled out into the world again.
This had not been the first nor be the last.
Yet this had dug in much deeper.
And he swore that it must remain in the past
DEATH IN LONGING – PART I
It came, not in the darkness.
But by a light I willingly placed.
A devil may come in many guises.
And his was a most handsome face.
The flowers died upon arrival.
I did not look or care to see.
How the birds flew out and yonder.
All fleeing the threat unknown to me.
Love was what was offered.
Unconditional, placed at the door.
Hungry was the being who entered.
Devouring lonely souls, longing for more.
The cuts came as sweet as honey.
And the bruises bloomed like spring violets.
The blood seeped, yet I felt nothing.
Unaccustomed and deaf to such violence.
WATCHING
Place the blame, again and again.
Languished yet molten.
Repeated reframes.
You melt the words into my soul.
A watching raven.
Fleeing the cold.
Of your frozen heart, lodged in time.
Refusing to die.
Refuted such crimes.
This is your Valhalla, your watchful mount.
Where I’m nailed to a cross.
Impossible to surmount.
Like those black raven eyes, you carve into my heart.
Waiting to walk my apocalypse.
Waiting for the dark.
But let the ink, snuff out all the hope.
Tend to my gallows.
With turpentine and rope.
For in the dark I’ll move, as all cats look the same.
And spark up a supernova.
Of our love, flared out in your name.
The dark will intensely turn from black into white.
Your soul will be cleansed.
By diamonds and this might.
Then only God will watch, as we crumble into the sky.
Into a blanket of feathers.
An eternal bed for you and I
Little wounded wing
Little wounded wing.
You never knew how dangerous it could be.
Flying through life as you were.
Hoping others, like you, wanted to sing.
Little spark of light.
No one told you how maddening it would be.
Existing how you are, so special.
The rules never showed you how to fight.
Life it took a hold and stained.
Into your feathers and soul it pained,
you to see what this world really was behind the lies.
Through maligned and deceitful eyes.
After wandering your many trails, deserving of fairness and love.
The world is dark and mattered.
Cruel and harsh and tattered.
To a creature who sees the good in everyone from above.
Little broken heart.
We all told you how not to cry.
No one cares for water spent.
The gulf between us now so far apart.
Hey little dying bird.
You told yourself in the end.
The only thing that was missing, was love.
And love was the only thing they no longer heard.
Lair of a liar
Cheap and nasty, true and bold.
Tales of hiding, fears untold.
Spring out of mouths that should be closed.
Locked in brains too old to know.
Gestate in places dark and hidden.
Finding victims so equally ridden.
For what you give is what you get.
What goes around, lest we forget.
Adieu
Shuffling off this mortal coil.
After years of strife and toil.
Turns my sight towards the sky.
And spit in Satan’s salty eye.
For though I’m old and known to break.
With bones of chalk that tend to ache.
I know the spin of my moral compass.
And what is true within each one of us.
For Satan wanted my soul one day.
When down on my knees I was to pray.
And promised heaven and all the earth.
If I would part with what I’d had since birth.
But I knew that slippery cunning devil.
Was not true, or on the level.
And would leave me lost, sad and doomed.
When the horsemen rode to their apocalyptic tune.
So though he lured and tried to test.
Reach within and corrupt the best.
I resisted hard and asked god to linger.
While I flipped old red the finger.
And now I fall into the unknown whole.
With my heart intact, and still with my soul.
home of the naïve
Disentangled child, cut from the spangled banner.
Speckled in manna, and the god they trust.
As unique as a snowflake.
Beyond the dawn break, of a new and troubled ice age.
Call me on your cell phone.
Buzzing in neon, and a blood point too high to tally.
Covert the freedom.
Sensibilities you need them, as the world cracks and crumbles below.
Oh say can you see?
Beyond all the misery.
There is a land open and free, still waiting for you.
Topple the gods.
In a system at odds, which crackles with such hellish flame.
Pledge allegiance to the drag of a drug in your veins.
Which splits the world and mottles your brain.
Until you die and are reborn again.
So proudly you exhale, a revolution of love.
And a change that cannot fail.
Splattered in white, red and blue.
Be strong. Be courageous. Be you.
Underneath
Underneath where the soul lingers.
Light scrapes away all hurt and pain.
And in its place, by gentle fingers.
The ghost of me tries to reframe.
A version of me you will remember.
For underneath you feel the same.
Exhumed
Underneath and in the ground.
Buried deep without a sound.
Lies my body, its shell and bones.
Under layers of rocks and stones.
A tyrannosaur heart that roared at first.
But all too soon, swelled and burst.
You killed me once with your flaming comet.
Across my sky, your departing sonnet.
Our love, which first, defied distinction.
All too soon embraced extinction.
It could not survive the battles we raged.
Like warring beasts, housed in a cage.
You bit, and snapped and left me dying.
A fallen giant, cold and crying.
And so my flesh transformed to oil.
The precious black gold beneath the soil.
And you evolved and then migrated.
Our DNA of trust abated.
This amber love was thus entombed.
Waiting in time, to be exhumed.
Fly me to the moon
Into the shuttle, with a clink and a clank.
Climbed old Richard, the adventurous Yank.
He counted down, from ten to zero.
Puffed out his chest, as America’s new hero.
And he soared into the sky, with his hands in his pockets.
As he shot to the moon on the back of a rocket.
And the earth dripped away under the clouds at his feet.
He smiled at his fortune that was ever so sweet.
Yet alone on this flight, bound for the lunar oasis.
As his body hung on earth in a suspended medical stasis.
In a nursing home called Cherry palm, Richard resided.
At 92, was the best place his children decided;
For him to live out his days in comfort and care.
Little knowing each day was full of lonely despair.
And that is why, though medicated it’s noted.
He navigated the world, and now space where he floated.
And he went where he wanted, on his own in his head.
He travelled to the moon without leaving his bed.
This was how Richard coped with the despair.
Walking in space, above the world without cared
Vindication
As lips part, unleashed dogs rip and wrought.
Choking on the tiniest thought.
That burn away nirvanic benediction.
And grabs the wood for your own crucifixion.
For a pox you are in eyes of scarlet tension.
A strangled lie of incomprehension.
That simmers to a sinner’s plea.
The fragile-ness of complexity.
You’ll see
You will see, said the little whisper.
The sound within.
A distant whimper.
From the voice inside the cracking skull.
The quiet reasoning.
The heart’s strong hull.
That sails beyond a galaxy.
Down here on earth.
In complexity.
These defiant words did manifest.
Into action.
And I must confess.
That I was able to walk away.
From all that trauma.
And sad decay.
And close the book of you and me.
A tired old tale.
Which you will see.
Havoc and Consequence 