The Splinter

In my dreams,
a chateau took form.
Native to what was to come
my fingers
cast the arsonist
as its masterpiece.
Long suffering did not know
the pucker of a vanishing tongue
for I was the hearer of illusion
kissing nightmares under creaky doorways.
Unburdened, I once danced
to expected love's return.
As sweet camouflage played,
the attending antiquity
was born in walls.
Applauding mirrors mesmerize imitations
in such a way, that the enduring flair
of an outsider carries sanity to the flame.
How eerie it is to find myself
emptied by wisdom,
sitting alone as reflection paints anew.
Intimacy must know my stories to touch
my treasured forbidden pulse.
Can't I paraphrase the finale of my loathing
that you might know enough?

Here lay the ruins from embezzled love
and yet look at how magnificent it all is.
The crumbling walls will illuminate
what’s caged and
fallen
and the splinter
will dream of its depart.

She is lovely

Into the deep forests,
the baritone winds
has had their time.
The yore of ailments
glows, as the admonished
walk through, searching.
She is like many of us.
A transient
whose slumber travails.
Sedating,
what is to come
she awakens
again
caressing the void’s
that haunt her.
I know how she feels.
Sweet idles of solace
has enamored my Cri de coeur.
In the mist,
the sojourners epilogue is
approaching.
What good is a drifter whose
accession traces a hollow journey?
Heeding to bliss,
she rouses
to what is dead.
Guided inwardly,
the wilted flower
will have her bloom.
She is lovely.

Knowing

Venture with me to where the uncaged
takeon an immortal oath
where mysterious suitors
have drafted their mirage unto time.
Savoir faire fathomed my bliss
and the foolish sang sonnet’s of decay
and time can not define me as inopportune
for unrequited love has not archived this soul.
I'm able to cross the seas of transgressions
to unearth a guidepost
where even prose can not dignify
this trance of knowing.

Depression

I interrogated my mourning,
until my inner core ceased to be
all that it was.
The sane filtering
of old drums banging into quiescent
had longed for a walkway,
to heal this noise for some time.
Someone told me that darkness
comes before the dawn.
As the galaxy unrolled,
the winnow of reason opened up a porthole.
Reminiscing, I reached for oblivion.
When a new star burns the universe has already
gardened a place for its radiance.
Did I forget that the stars shift
when a heart envisions awe?
I think I had.
Tears falling.
The dawn is coming.

Bondage

Ah, the festering aroma of innuendos,
have I not smelled the craft of your imagination today?
Who is beholden to whom anymore
but a mind and its own bouquet of opium.
It does feel like dementia of a sort,
sniffing valleys of privy vindication.
Sniffing the con artist’s who cry
and the landslides that say,"It is what it is."
This perennial sediment
has left a fighter with a sword
that it can not use.
Get up and Go you spiritless tank!
Have you not groveled enough in a land of decay?

The Field

Did you walk by your field today?
I saw you honey.
The affable statue of your thinking man
has amplified the indexes of our limbo.
"You betray my heart with your devotion to grief," he said.
I replied, "Each stem has prodded my lay. What more can the field ask
when I have willingly conformed
to its wild grass?"
The quiet air bewilders my assent again.
Have I stayed too long?
I wonder.
I am tired of the unreal.
The exquisite statue nods.

Sober Womb's

Oh how I hoarded freedoms spell, shall I tell you about it?
I was like a starved canon firing off empty, eating depletion
but why did this Master prevail me?
Woe to those cloning mannequins from intoxicated wombs.
If only the cocoon had a willful widow of unfamiliar wings,
to think of what treasures it might have known had it known.
Where's the foreshadows to summon my clarity?
This threshold of ephiphany must pursue wings they'd never known
for how else can sober womb's gather what's torn.

My Arduous Journey

My arduous journey forgoes to quiet nights,
as I’ve been invited to float blissfully
watching the moon show his face in lucid water.
There, I’ve wailed a sorrows tale
looking for natures handouts to
resign the waltz that I had betrothed.
And yet how can I recant the atlas that brought me here.
For wasn’t the dance the compass that sketched my invitation?
The quiet does not muzzle inspiration
nor does it comfort a compromise.
The night air is crisp and as the breeze blows a euphoric gesture,
I'm indebted to the surreal.
The grandiose pilgrimage
has settled all regrets and
lays floating where the crescent moon has smiled.

This Chair

I’m sloughed in this old incessant chair
rocking to what I covet,
the dust designs my passage.
Dear chair, "If I pardon the footloose
will you sway a new me?"
Toe’s gripping carpet
amusing my bitterness,
the protégé of envy and jealously
has shackled my feet.
Legs crippled from fumbling,
fingers clawing armrests
I cleave to my trepidation,
unaware, that the majestic auctioneer has come.
I hear the steward of dreams
bidding away my withholdings, singing
farewell to despair, farewell to despair.
Crying, I grope the window pane.
Rising to his medley.
The cushions have changed form.

Hope

The snow whitens my eyelashes like
a cool border around a memoir.
Eyes closed,
my outer shell takes it all in speaking,
I have forgiven you for being less than I wanted.
My muse celebrates a winters breeze
sedating the old haunting abysmal of,
my
I
remember you.
The motionless landscape then turns the air,
"Where will you go now?"

My path is marked by hope,
heavily plowed by rain
I will walk where the snow falls.

Insanity

Vandals of nakedness,
compose this battle of
passions drifting to fear enlightening
what's abandoned.
Savoring the banging monotones,
I sang for acceptance.
If I bare me, a battle
that's already preoccupied,
whom will invade my mind
and sort through this madness then?
Get on board mutiny!
Armed with weary, I will expose my stolen voice.
Who will hear me now?

Streams of Light

Some shadows may tarry me
but my longing aspires a rivers strength by moonlight.
The good one shall abide
and the forest will endure timber loss.
I, a lone warrior goes to the roots,
that of which has held me sturdy from
the hot headed sun.
Branches are few but is this not always so?
Pity the one who abandons the streams of light there
the eclipse may ask, “Darling avantgarde, tell me what hour this is?“
And who should answer but
the fools cry
whom slept at sunset.

The air is not still

I feel cold, too many words coming in,
a mind that knows not thyself.
Sold templates glutton with breath
many, weighing as much as one.
How does one stone folly a pyramid when
many took years to build?
I plead to sand domes, "Soothe my mortar and
fiercely blow the crumbling stones belonging to one."
One on top of the other, paying homage to the seal
whispering, "What did I build?"
They know no difference
but I can feel the debris.
The air is not still.

Two older poems

i dont adorn the grave with flowers


who can breathe my sorrow
a loners true solitude
beckoning onward shall I
who asks this?
this moving on
tears screaming walls
drowning sobbing
prisoner of suckling time
tis burdened unsettling
I must I have to
pleading resurrecting sorrow
go away from me
I beg for you amnesia
shall I ever know peace again
where are you Father God?
dropping to my knees to pray
quietly I lay at night
just staring
almighty universe
millions of stars
bringing gifts presents unwrapped
full of serene peace
led by God to ponder
HE IS ALMIGHTY
the awesomeness of you
the power of your one breath, Father
of just one
thus begot massive midnight
winds of emotions coming
light dimming tunnels bare
Father God, please make yesterday never be

Child of mine
please let go
I am with you
its always been this way

I want to
run free in tall wild grass
birds chirping birds flying
owning blue skies
watch me Father
see how your breeze catches me
smiling in the wind as it touches my teeth
makes me just wanna run

seasons of your permission
my Fathers Holy parameters
my suffering was not your doing
I blamed you father
in my mourning I made you small
but your abundant loves comes
swiftly running
to my graves of stillness

my savior declaring
hearing his voice
you who belongs to me
boundaries in my seasoned caves
why do you sit in mourning?
where are the bodies of the graveyard?
fooling you that your love lays still in soil
when this is not so
let me in, dear child
I shall reveal our loves dwelling

Father, how can I
embrace this giving in
yielding to
the wondrous smile of untouched hope

lingers on such loss
laying liken a soul of old trees
dew offering its scent
leaves blowing winds
mimicking an ocean of memories
pondering on my Father God
I his child, seeded with much
I want to hear the voice of my love
I want to smell the body of my heart ache
unpredicted tornados keep coming
regrets of moments to show love
shadowed thoughts upon tombstones
oh, you horrific merry go round
adorning this grave with flowers
my love, you have no need of them
breathing a Fathers spirit
but envious of you, my love
so lucky
no moments of I go to
coming your way
I go to nature I go to TV
I go to music I go to loved ones
I go to past I go to missing you

“dear child of mine“
“go to truth of death anew”

Father
held in your wings my love
is
truth must declare
heavens endearing dwelling
untiring caring untiring nurturing
your smiling my love
the surreal peace of his presence

death then anew has come
this soil fooling me with finality
there being no such thing
death has united eternity
stays the mourning of changing form
brightness glowing all encompassing
oh sweet heavens love
your open fields of tall grass
roads of healing
mirroring his resting nest
my fathers spirit
agony seeking its flight
he removing insane anguish
grief falling off of me
winter storms changing moments of time
a saviors cross touching my sorrows white


I want to run to
wild grass truths upon tombstones
the flowers the cut grass
showing the still mourning
willful storms of yesterday
discovering smiles of quiet deserts
his loyalty to never abandon
blessed my mourning of no more
Almighty Loving God
your sweeping in
rescuing up
bringing home
heavens' wombs of eternity
my love is

I know where you’re
you don’t need my I go to’s
your breathing
the delights of his swaddling
I don't adorn your grave with flowers
I am gathering these pedals
can you see them above me
my grief is soaring away, my love
Father,
when my purpose is finished
you will come for me as well
finally to experience
what my love had been doing
...all this time
...smiling
just a smiling