hunger took the first step

this fast had to be broken,

a chicken burger, fries

and a coke my order

leaning on a plastic table

I wait and watch

a woman two tables over

tries to coddle an angry child

her temper harnessed

still throbs at her temple

sitting at the counter

an old gent reads his ipad

lifting his head to watch

the unfolding drama

at the next table

a young rebel knows it all

chewing his pen starving

Flat room, tiny walls
intricate design.

Folded over
closing in.

Sculpted by a life
we actualize.

Rigid shapes
defined by creases.

Little boxes
so confining.

Breath by breath
oxygen sparse.

Suffocated by
our choices.

wealths spilling through the lawn glades forgotten
the timer weavers shower

a carcass of emotion baths in a televisions ether
like the broken second floor lamp
the open question
extolled
pressed light
in answer

between the empty mirror
and the safety switch

valladium
rosewood
intimacy

It's quiet now,
Warm and still,
The orange glow of streetlight
fogged by lingering firework smoke,
the smell of gunpowder and forest
mixed with fertile earth and night.

A small form humps
low across the road
as I slow down
to turn into my driveway;
A raccoon in search
of food and safety
when the sun comes up
hours from now.

Consuming each moment
every plan, every thought.
Nothing else can exist
with this love bug I've caught.

Every word and every prayer,
each due to you.
Never felt a feeling heavier
until your love fogged my view.

You're a disease I enjoy,
a drug I can't quit.
Taking over my body,
my soul, and my wit.

The rain pummeling droplets
And the drains guzzling down

The rumble darkened distance
From the quiet of the town

It stings in sheets the tin house roof
And yellow lamp lit soaking streets

And whittles at the window while
A rain drowned heart drum beats

Precipitation: all it is, and falls
From blackened heavens grasp

To walk bare headed in the land
Then strain once more and skyward gasp

And words, let tumble, rattling home
with language falling at your door

i can't help it.
i really can't.
most times i want to know if i did something wrong;
if you misunderstood or knew all too well.
i feel like our problems end up here.
this is our elephant graveyard.
the huge bones wander until they find the right web address and then settle,
our history laid in front of us like hired stonemasons constantly on the job.
i feel so guilty for looking though.
this is your private thought made into abstract symbols for strangers to see,
but i am no stranger,

Martyred
By the unbeckoned farewell
Agonies etch
Each memory

Rent illusions
stroke the unscreamed need
Hair shirt caresses
Upon the canonized corpse

Hedonistic romance
Pregnant with flavour
Sin and corruption
Heralding ecstatic pleasures

Crosses burning
Fever pitched wails
Echo against goodbye

Taking the veil
Liberties price
Robed in vestments
To hide the bawl

the final sojourn

I have in my WILL endorsed

my bier should have four parachutes
one at each end
lest I decide on the earth to descend
yet once again
as I'd not know
how the world will toil
without my poetry
tilled from my mind's soil

albeit no one may listen to me
try to abandon the aircraft
shall remain a desire so carefree
ere the final destination of the sojourn
at the far end of never ending space
I hope to move on

Albeit

now you add on..
the place of RV

Canto Two ~ It is twenty years ago of a Harsh morning.

Prince Carl’s war has been fought and lost. As his mother had long warned, King Cartive’s grip upon the Legions of Lurien is near absolute. The armies of Illian, though abetted by a populace that willingly followed Carl into disaster, have been decimated. Cartive now holds the proletariat through all of Lurien hostage to Prince Carl’s surrender.