Words, spoken by the mind’s eye
Invisible to the outer yet perfectly
Legible to the inner that is soul
Divided among many, considered circumspectly

We write because we must
We put ink to paper to carry our voices through time.
We hope those reading, are ones to perhaps trust
To truly be understood, no matter the time, truly sublime?

even the simplest soul
is a prism
with many sides
history & hope
their desires & despairs
beliefs & belly aching
through which a rainbow
of personality
can be seen

A play from the tales of old
tells the tale of a race
where adders are left to play.
A race where flesh reigns
administering its works on every soul.
A race that shuns the Hunter's whistle
walking ways that suits it's pace.
You can see the air like the gutters
blowing nothing but ills.
A race with no teacher; Everyone is a teacher.
When the race weed got dried enough
A funeral of fire
gives the race a befitting burial.
Piercing through the body of the moment
like the spear of a mighty warrior

look at...

clouds & chipmunks
underneath it all we are after the same thing
poetry..the stuff deep inside of me
burning in anguish frozen pee
closet breath with mothball scent
here I hide between the frozen chew
look at my elbow parked outside my window
order form...

look at the magazine soft porn inside
the billows be your guide
soft hand to speak
stand still & repeat
Led Zepplin song remains the same
a grocery date with Stop & Shop's,"Marty"...

A day ordinary as days before,
the sky was blue and heavy with cloud,
the air though sultry but beside my love
caressing and healing.

On the path where a year ago our love was born
we walked with our hands locked in love.
Under the grove of trees bearing flagrant fruits
shaped life dove-eye of love
we glided down the path in love.

Perpetuating bliss of gifted silence -
of a chaotic mind prone to violence.
Dare to embrace, but how to let go?
An eerie solace she’s come to know.
Timid eyes scurry like pigs to mud.
Wearing old wounds like shadows -
Certain that nobody could ever love,
an obscure heart that’s tasted blood.

A dream reduces stress
it helps tears roll down

It's a part of life
as much as is Death
so move on
LOL

Dream in paradise
the sun is significance of life and death

Dream but not of death

Dying and Dreaming
both have a D common

never think of dying
we all know
we all will die one day
we came with a return ticket
not only one way

so dream and enjoy
I have been dying too
since ages past
yet I am alive in front of you
as in many decades
live parts of me

The congregations have filth to eat.
The future arrives:
The air is thick with sulfur,
Heat melts the asphalt and tar,
The river beds are hot as coals,
Streets flood with poison waters,
Ice caps melt and forests burn,
And quickly the planet takes new shape.

The angel of death does not pass the righteous
Who have smeared blood on their doors.
With nowhere to escape but underground,
Throats are seized by Armageddon-
There is no call from the glorious creator-
"Thou shalt preserve the primal land."

The loud tonk tonk of the bell bird
sounds like a hammer hitting an anvil,
today it feels like a warning klaxon
rather than the obnoxiously loud call
of a male calling for a mate.

Distracted she climbs down from her perch
paces the floor, cocks her head to listen,
The vibrating hum of cicadas normally so soothing,
Have brought goosebumps to her skin made
her hackles rise.

An Enigma -
Many came to ask me about death
hence-

WHEN we were younger
we asked elders

Why don't you want to die
why live so long
are you afraid

Now I am at that border of life
@nearing 80
I ask myself why should I die
I will never again come by

So now I terribly feel shy
not wanting to
say good bye