a bitter sluice archs
dark green and full
of gold

a shimmer cascade
falling forever

against the cool
shadow
of a quick dusk
the feel of the winds touch

caressing a dry hungry persistance
stitched with sparks

drench
but never quench
a seam of love
a coveted hate

a favoured scar
that vivid
sings
when passion
full of life
consumes
the restless
animal
desire

dancing in the
shade
in shapes
with want
and fear

whenever I read you I stand in advance ovation

such words none can emit
the light of day
as yours do permit
me to quote them
will you

upon the hearts and souls of moving time…. your poetry will always rhyme …well above the lightning clouds… ere one hears thunder…. they all will say Geremia
yes, was a wonder

that's why I wanted you to return
so many like me can midnight oil burn
to read your immortal poetry
in their own turn

Dark clouds roll
as thunder announces
your presence.
Lightening flashes
gracing their edges.

Prepared for battle
I stand in suit of armor
even though your war
is not with me.

Spin your web
of half-truths
and bold face lies
it will only contribute
to our demise.

Build yourself
upon my faults
to make yourself
look better
in other's eyes.

Politicians never lie,
they just say what you
want to believe.

I don't want to believe my
eyes or ears. The world is being covered
with dirty water spilling from polluted mouths.
The sky is falling with intention to rob the intellect
and separate the body from its common sense. My
heart walks alone but

walking while black is serious business
in Florida.
They fixed what ain't broken, you know,
and tombstones
loom large on the horizon. Hit men in the making and

PORTRAIT

Who will care
when these walls are bare
and all I touched and held
is wrapped neatly away
fading into the years.

who will hold my memories
know what I know
keep my moments never shared
understand the silence
which belonged to me alone.

But I am metaphor and rhyme
the music of verse
the movement of thought
from beginning to end
muted eloquence and grace.

I have been
and I will always be
I am the poetry
that is life

Thoughts don’t stop at red lights
Once more I sleep with self-doubt
If this is strength, I’d rather be weak

I go to war with my own mind
Another casualty to friendly fire
Every night I sit at the café
Where the scene plays again

My heart races as my mind
Becomes a prostitute to fears
And all I can do is resort to tears

Right about now I want to slither
Into the prison of silence
As my skin becomes
And old torn coat

ground tremble
thunder
a stillness rushs
rising up like dust

fingers of amber
poised like jewels

discarded parties
woven
meangingful
and meaningless

chipped corners
and scarred forelegs

like rain limps
dream trips

archive scatter
the black velvet
ghosts

the claws on cold
tile
make good shivers
while a moon
sharp as a shiv
shines through
the torn curtian
bright as a sliver

Porcelain vase
cold and alone.
Once filled with
life's water
now runs dry.

Shriveled petals
black edges formed
breaking from neglect.
Weeping tears of blood
with every snap.

Once upon a time
she had been beautiful,
stood out from all the rest.
So they chose her,
picked her from the pack...

A symbol of love
now faded
like her luster.
External beauty
has escaped.

Today’s great undead poets,
awash in the internet sea,
seek to fill the void of sensible emptiness
of our cyberspace world.
Following the heroic tradition of Man,
these daring individuals look to gain acceptance
through the expression of concepts.
Mirroring the virility and vitality of Life,
in defiance of critical naysayers,
the blankness of virtual paper
is scribbled upon with hurt, hope and ideals.
Writing styles and topics,
whether expressed in romanticized language

Seasonal changes in one's life.
give way to fresher encounters
all our lives
else life would have been
a monotonous rose
if it had no colors
nor variety
I suppose

the sun needs to show more worth
by giving nature a newer birth
and the rains ought to wash away
what you may call sin

the nudity,
stark nakedness autumn gives
must be once again recovered
as did Adam and Eve

so life's humanity and dignity
forever remains constant
yet not absolutely still