Indigestion

The day before I died, the air

smelled like stale bread.

 

My eyes dripped and drained

as the words once heard, silenced

by the fear of confessions made,

too soon,

after the wine and bread were

swallowed and absorbed; leaving a bad

taste to linger for eternity

from the acid of

love soured.

 

Contained

The special glass, filled

with nectar; slips

like a shattering heart
from the grip
of hands, weak

from holding, without

it ever being
                      tasted.

succumb

the rain could not
wait more than
a day to visit
the newly
planted garden;

and now, sadly
the winds, they
blow from a new
direction, as

the garden withers,
waiting for winter
to come
and destroy
the thirsting foliage.

from ruth

      out the back door
beyond the depths of hope,
   the doe ran and ran
      released from the womb
                                of love: with tears
                                                    shed for the light
                                                                  of a new dawn ;

                                                                                            . . .

A Reminder

A trip of trips,
planned down to
the shoes to shampoo
necessities for the taking;

Music to sing
the journey, begins... until;

Eyeballin' the map, only for a second;
      -- sight lost--

Death, at the end of a fiery crash:
       --the destination ain't near as important, as getting there--

Sniper

The shooter offers nothing
to the words and actions
without a home; never to be reined-

in. The clench of a jaw, snapped
and the silence broke into
a slow death waiting for
the final plans to settle:
ten feet under.




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Free Flow

The impure blood,
courses through the
veins;           aimed,
straight for the heart,
races like a mud

slide after the storm.

Not afraid, the blade

cuts       the       pain,

free from the thoughts

trapped behind the life form

of a warden gone mad.

The pain, now free

runs    and      drains;

in a scarlet fervor down

the pages of a writing pad.

 

 

 

Grave Side

Daily visits to the tombstones
buried in the thoughts they left and
of the deaths made
from a closed heart
unable to give what it doesn't have. 
Daily mourns, with
hopes their deaths were at the
very least, peaceful.

Prison Walls

Reflected in the silence
are the voices lurking in the shadows;

movements strictly restricted
as the dance through the day

makes its way through
the sludge of innocence lost--

beyond the night's thickness
where the waiting intensifies:

Eyes closed, then open,
hoping it's only a dream.


-----------------

Barista Wanted

 

 

 

 

[a microwave assures hot coffee

at any given moment;

if of course, the pot

is filled every day or so]

 

 

 

 

In A Metered Breath

Without any means
  outside of the day
    inside of an hour
     the wind blew
       between these bones
          keeping me here;
            standing but holding,
              off the decay
             
      of shattered dreams.

Cold Is The Night

Under The Influence

The can popped; for starters,
until the pill hit like a sledge hammer
starting simple at first, then dragging it all
below the surface like orders.

Then her name echoes
off the walls filled with the rain
of a million tears; drowning the thoughts
into tomorrow's glass of mellow,

always waiting with a smile,
giving hope that tomorrow
it will be possible
to go, just a few more miles.

Cagney

He ran away once; when I wasn't looking,
running to find the thing, wherever it might be. But
it, didn't come. His love
for me wasn't enough to contain him,
until I searched for him, and called him home;
where he stayed, until I had to let
him go, forever.

unobscured

to see straight through,
the ledge turned to glass;


for strength and a lie
both reveal the uncertainty that

she might fall, because she can
see the truth, straight through

                    

                     

                  

              to the bottom...