October

Beneath the newly fallen night,
a baby cricket - lost in hope -
crawls inside a vacant wine bottle,
escaping, an unexpected frost.

Deteriorating Conditions

Swooping down, she pulled the sky
so high I could see tomorrow.

Giving me wind and a wing, and boy
did I fly!

Until, the sun set, the tailwind
crossed, the skies darkened.

She threw up mountainous thunderheads,
they cut like a shard of glass.

A howling chill cast, from the walls she
shattered in an un-forecasted storm.

The heavy blanket shot
over my heart won't warm the chill,

until the sun rises.

Gibberish

In a fit of elation,
she came to wait for
a life lived,
or lived life?
Rawness and real
shared with you (and them, secretly);
a few here or there, without a feel.

(Those who came to weed,
run with the speed
of pedals ablaze).

Her smile, warped:
A packaged deal of charm
and intrigue by light,
gone dark at night.
The clock ticks on,
without a suitable mention
of her uniform at the cleaners.

Rose Colored Glasses beneath Blue Skies

Standing in the middle of the road
at noon, in June,
the light is paralyzing. Everything shines
in a glow of possibility.
The beauty is surreal, like lies
in a halo; where
love waits, always waits, beyond
the next sunrise.

Re-lay-shun Ships:

past the breakers,
beyond the let downs
and blow ups; erupting
in swirls of chaos,

of swaying hips
and pursed lips,
floating out in
a sea of noise.

Infusion

Reducing myself to a memory;
I'd freeze onto a cloud, floating
over you, falling,

melting upon your tongue,
to be swallowed and absorbed
inside of you, forever.

Icy

Missing

when love speaks
to my heart,
it must be traveling
without a DAMN
map, cause
it gets lost
in the translation…

A Place

What happens when we live in a place that is not ours?
Living in a place without a voice or an affect, or a place to be, okay.
A place where everyone else is right, and you are wrong.  A place where, 'a place to belong' is nonexistent; where your thoughts, ideas, and things are considered to be in the way of everyone elses way.
Living in a place of connection that no one else feels.
A place where everyone else is always screaming, "LOVE ME! HEAR ME! I AM IMPORTANT TOO!"  And yet... you are just an other, an other whom is unworthy and taking up their place and is never loving, or hearing, or seeing them.
A place where there is always an us and a them, and nothing in between.
A place to cry for loneliness and overwhelmingness, concurrently.
A place where this is the human existence, and yet... no one else has a fucking clue that everyone else feels the same way.

a-void

indifferent is neither and nor but,
but always without a care to give,
and so very different than different,
in an out sorta way;
indifferent, not always good
nor bad and not so distant
from a far cry
between
stillness and silence;
where answers lurk...

Weeds

Obscure

A path for hiking, hidden beneath  
briers and weeds and decaying leaves;
dry crunches of forsaken heath,
trees bending and twisting, grieves

for the sun's light to embrace the scene
in an inflamed fit of lust and greed;
an adventure of sites unseen
like words in poems she'll never read.

Endure

In her slithering sultriness
she attacks from the side with the smile
of innocence and the heart of a child
in the breath of a breeze;
suffocating the senses of logic
until he is held captive
in her trance, holding him there
till the moonlight dies.

Escape

dark rooms with
concrete walls built high,
echoes myths;

She opens her eyes.

Altar-ation

A dimly lit lamp
in the corner solely
lighting a book of poetry
stained with tears, still damp

inside: pouring rain--
outside the window,
the wind blows
rattling the pane

in a procession--
as a roaring crowd,
beckoning loud-ly
the call of participation.