Empty manifestations with minds of their own.
But will first blush, allow for separation of church and body?
In the bronze light of smoke-filled ambivalent days,
I have never liked blue.
Considering it always looked pungent on you.
Why is it…only in the light of night,
wanted more for less?
past or present,
dreams are in texture
color in screams.
Nighttime in fallen leaf.
In the best of company
Harmony days hand-picked for setting the baggage free.
Never far away from the mountain of tempestuous temperatures.
I had knocked on heaven’s door…
But in truth, it took one knock more.
My nemesis is my best friend.
On that outward voices can depend.
Pointing out my flaws…with no compliance to chivalry.
Directing my defects with purposeful mimicry.
He, she or it…the devil’s personal dictator.
Always in the background portraying a self-indulgent Master Piece theater…narrator.
Lastly, last night’s vigil…
I could not write you a love song.
I would not know where to start.
But last night’s vigil,
reaching for you is where it turns the light from the dark.
My words have never been acquainted with eloquence.
Yet, then came the touch of your skin.
The simplest gesture for many years…unrecognized.
Truest freedom is to lay down by your side.
Misguided romance and nightly party favors,
had been my used to be, host.
Anger’s undercover liaison.
Who had promised to protect me from me.
Hostage of the Heart…had been the bedtime tale.
Spoken words intended to make the strong frail.
Through the trail of fears,
you have taken back my night.
Lastly, last night, you lay beside me…as you always have.
As always, daring me to care.
Lastly, last night’s vigil.
Home at last.
Lastly, last night.
Home at last.
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
small things recoil into silence,
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
gnaws on kind words
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
dependent upon their
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
down in the hollows where my secrets lie
I do not know where but I am certain I know why
aware of the grasshoppers, thundering under potted ferns and cemented angels
these unvetted prophecies kick the dirt out of my mind…time to time
but when internal misery comes by…when it is less sought
it beckons by in a flood of wrongs not what is just my simple ‘lot’
I visited my blood in a sense of duty to dust away my plights, my faults
appealing to the autumn breeze I could not let go of…
I am not you
I can be love