Strangers with Common Faces

junk yards 5

I would not if I were you.

These are stark pages, delinquent places,

for strangers with common faces.

As the raven flies,

Edgar and prose, linger on.

Clutching the mystery of the dark-side with ravenous pride.

I would not if I were you.

We all know Lucifer is beauty in black and blue.

We all know righteousness is flawed.

Pride, the ice in which the sinister rain thaws.

someone else's demons 2

Yesterday’s Raven

It all seems as if the happening…just began yesterday.

Velcro’ d lifelines that came unhinged.

It is in the manner in which, strangers stare.

As if, they are aware time has been unfair.

 

There had been a raven visiting in a calm before the storm.

Turning over the moments in the pleasure of flight.

Possibly in search of something he may have lost.

His bravado unaware of the upcoming spring frost.

 

Yesterday,

such as an ice barge in a swollen river.

Nothing in life compares to…forgetfulness and getting on with the living.

Recollection can be a great…misgiving.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. Poe/the Raven

Recollection can be a great…misgiving.

When Hate Walks In

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When love walks in the room…

Or,

when hate rises from the cluttered culvert…

No attention served.

Least of all, never as notable as a, piercing, raven’s coo.  

That touches every last nerve.

Only human, after all,

When pleading…

we have had no hand to the inhuman awl.

Unaccountable…

When fiendish fences,

our neighbor’s install.

How happy am I?

Daily meditation…

sedation without medication.

Careless, carefree,

earthbound warrior…

Willing to act up.

But invariably,

with hesitation.

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Covetous Raven

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Black crow, dodging the draft…basking in the fall’s aftermath.

Long gone are the ways of radiant ambient rays.

Civility and winter’s pinnacle.

Nothing more than, a well-worn path down a snow hampered trail.

Scarred forests with deadwood stories to prevail.

Dear, capricious Raven,

with a message surreal, sublime.

The wreckage of our past set adrift…yet, not far behind.

Strangers with Common Faces

junk yards 5

I would not if I were you.

These are stark pages, delinquent places,

for strangers with common faces.

As the raven flies,

Edgar and prose, linger on.

Clutching the mystery of the dark-side with ravenous pride.

I would not if I were you.

We all know Lucifer is beauty in black and blue.

We all know righteousness is flawed.

Pride, the ice in which the sinister rain thaws.

someone else's demons 2