Visions In The Fire

I sense a culmination
in close approximation
it brings a shudder
this sensation
of expected expiration
like embers glowing
in the campfire
soon to burn out
like dying note of
polished lyre
I note the winds have changed
carrying smoke
and defoliated leaves
with the changing season
my heart grieves
and yearns for
lost days gone by
the ghosts that fly
in the face of
our awaited tomorrows

She was a sooner-cum-loudly,
the top of her class,
genuine guttural groans
when I'd smack on that ass

and like any boy scout
I was always prepared
when she wanted it done
no level was spared

I'd slow down the roll
like the rest of us should
so I wouldn't let go
till she was all good

... and with a sigh of relief
flipped my hat in the air
I graduated with honor
at the college of Claire.

there are wafers of dust hope
clinging to the torn nylon pockets
Neon green bottles with milligram
trips

perfume amber sweet and mysterious
noxious serpent that winds and wends
its way about the nocturne night flesh
of your throat

dream constrictor
rush of headlamp hypnotic
tremble when the ash of
the hit settles like the grey
soot on our savaged ruins

footprints in silence
you lead me
turning back
with that brow
fallen

the wet spark
flickering in that
dark soul

Going , Going, Gone

Going is the present
fading into the past

Going is the past
fading into the present

Thought rides the high winds
Being tossed and thrown into both

Gone is the future
It no longer lives

It's diabolical laughter
ringing through my fears

Gone the reality
of unending dream

Ghostly images paled by light
returning only in the dead of night

Taunting, haunting going on
tempting me to do what is wrong

going going going
Till I'm gone

It doesn't take a holiday,
or any special time of year;

in fact, nothing "external"
what I love, or my worst fear;

coerces me to "feel" this way
I see no "rainbows", or "chirping birds",

over my years of writing continuously
I still fail to find those words!

Every "t" I cross, or "i" I dot
fail in the "mechanics", as on I write;

but, because of you, I persevere;
I want you to know, with all my might!

Confess, my love
I swear I was always right
I held in my arms, the one and only source of light
You will, you will; be what’s always wrong with me
And I will, I will; change what I can see

Confess, my heart
Was torn all apart
In your hands you held, my one and only love
You will, you will; be the end of me
And I will, I will; break internally

And when your sky comes crashing on you
Will you reach for me, or one of your loves?
And I said, “I can love no one, but you”
Believe me, I am true…

A Swan’s Gannet…

Back then in a year called seventy four,
we just about knocked on heavens door.
Because heaven isn’t that bloody far away,
and it sure isn’t what the christians say.
No heaven is right here on this earth,
it’s a state of being it’s what you're worth.

There was a silenced lull,
on the Neopoets site,
For a while,
my heart skipped many a beat
and how about yours
twas the teary eyes
of passers bys
who consoled me alright
that soon the site will again
be in sight
twas.

Gazing through a window without glass
envisioning reality
distorted.

Do I behold what's come to pass
or what has not yet come to be
perhaps aborted?

Some go through the looking glass.
Sometimes I step through what's not there
with eyes tightly closed.

The unglazed window of my mind
reveals what looking glass leapers
overlook.
Too preoccupied
..Too hurried
.....(Too worried?)
Too blind.

INDIFFERENCE

my voice is still.
my words echo empty
and meaningless.
my heart has learned
indifference
my soul no longer cares
and I am lost
in my own wondering
of who I am.

Useless twists and turns
of the tongue
speaking my identity.
I am a Zola novel
my destiny like a clock
set genetically
I am what I was meant to be:
I am my mother's child.
I am my father's son.