The Stars of the Night
The stars didn’t appear tonight.
The ones I know my home lies beneath
no longer shine for me.
Plain skies over this place where I set my feet—
no light to guide,
no directions.
I never learned the names of these foreign stars,
but the stars of home still shine; this I know.
They light the paths of friends and family left behind,
just not mine.
I’ve searched every corner of these skies
for their familiar burning bodies.
Nothing.
Under these blank skies I live now.

For you I am dying
I am thine
I do not want to worm my way into your affections; neither do I want to inveigle myself to your heart
So I chase after you onerously
But even if I win your love it would be a pyrrhic victory because I would have lost so much energy
And that’s the worst part

The burn fires of corpses litter the road like refuse
Competing with the inferno on buildings
A juxtaposition of evil
Reminds me of a black sabbath
A demonic Guy Fawkes Night
A ghostly spectacle
Fills me with terrors of hell
The tremors of a child trapped in a well.

If Faustus would give all souls for Mephistopheles,
i would give all the World for her love,
I will even shatter the laws of physics,
if she be Linette I'll turn myself to dove,
like Jason i will venture for the golden Fleece,
like Kratos i will overthrow Jove,
like Sin bad i will sail the deadly seas,
all these and more will i do for her love,
if she's the devil then I'll gladly sell my soul,
i will fight epic battles greater than the trojan war,
i want her so badly not friendship i want more,

Time is composed from seconds
like music from notes.
There are a few rules to follow
otherwise
it more or less flies.
Life is from smiles
of millions of solders complying
with birth to death march
from the first hug
to the last breath,
from the first cry
to the last time being cried about.
A cozy confinement of love
from the first touches
to the last phrase
together
in photographic frames,
letting the cars to pass
sitting in traffic.

I grew up a poor country girl living on the out skirts of town. We would move every year like the military form place to place and house to house within in the same little town of Turbeville.

There weren’t many neighbors, so me and my siblings, two boys and five girls, spent most of our time roaming the woods for fruits and berries. We played all the outdoors games we knew and created some of our own. Those were the days of innocence and youthfulness.

Clouds of memories drifting by
Shadows of grief like ravens fly.
My secret heart is calling you
Crying out for a love that's true.

We spoke of love and warm desires
Two lost hearts fused by eternal fires.
Soon all my fears were turned to tears
My secret heart calls through the years.

When sunny days have turned to rain
And all that's left is dark, dull pain
I run from life and wish to die
We'll run together, you and I

On the vale of thorn abreast we ambled.
Un-frazzled, to the hawthorn we held.
Though a twinge we felt, the haw we sought and
heyday we dreamed of.
Out of vague future luminous dreams we hewed,
though nadir soared, and hope in the depth of sea
of cruel fate brawled to emerge, but with verve
cocooned in glaring dreams firmly on the part to
heyday by grass of murk overgrown we trod.

Echo. Ever echoing come
words from the wild wood

drifting, always beckoning
that I should come for good

to the deep and the deepening
dusty silent still

heart, heart of the forest where
the thumping darkness will

find every thought in me
and lay them thick and flat

out on a carpet
of moss and bluebell sat

down, down in the forest,
lost to the mystery

solved and resolved to the silence
ever encircling me.