Last rays of wicked flickering candlelight
even to this present day
(October 4th, 2023)
lxiv anniversaries marking birth
emotions of ambivalence self directed at me,
and family of origin diatribes still career,
within psyche of Matthew Scott Harris -
less plain as day when prominent dearth
of attentiveness, compassion, empathy,
et cetera totally absent
without leave, and dear

I happen upon the crimson display.
The leaves are in the process
of completing their purpose,
but still giving to those who see them.

I accept their gift without hesitation,
and will welcome back their kindred
come Spring, and all they will offer.

Caught in a rain storm,
My heart races with fear
As thunder booms around me.

The rain pours so hard,
My clothes are soaked through.
My shoes squelch with every step.

My hair sticks to my face
As I search for shelter,
But there's nowhere to hide.

The wind howls past me
As I stumble along,
Trying to reach safety.

Finally I find cover,
A small, dry place,
And I can rest for a while.

The thunder eventually fades,
And the rain begins to slow.
I can continue on my way.

When God at first man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
Fulfilled, graceful, drowned in self pride,
He poured his spirit upon all flesh,
"Fill the world, heal, conquer" he instructs,
No obstacles, everything working for good,
Occupy, orchestrate the performances of the little creatures,
Strengthen the wall, master all corners, making your purpose count.

The monster lurks inside my head
Not hidden under the bed
With murderous, vengeful claws
Crushing my sanity with its blows

Twisting, turning every thought
What's left of my brain cells
Have begun to rot
Spoiled on love's broken promises

The monster inside my head
Crawls out from under the bed
Suffocating me with its demon breath
Sucking the soul from my body

Black rose on the bed
Monster inside my head
Nothing left to say
He left me for dead

For a length of days of longing for life;
Chasing around air
From horizontal to vertical axes,
Read a horary I made for you
Like zoanthropy property.
A square peg in a round hole,
Is that way you live your life?
Rather be a tale of moon sing by nippers
Or rat-hole to the households;
Your breeds cause babble in the streets
When their middle-age life are mess
They're beggars in every nook and cranny
With hope of securing a home;
In all the above senses, home is brutal.

And in the tangled web he weaves
the spider sits so quietly
The victim strums a line that's tight
reflected in the little light

Now the struggle turns desperate
the spider has him in his net

Faced with doom, in the late night gloom
he plays dead, even though he dreads

The moth gone blind with so little light
carefully cuts the line that's tight

Powdered wings touch silken strings
and a secret of his power

He prefers to fly alone, to survey from his tower

What beauty comes at last with Fall
When golden hour is best of all -
Where autumn’s light set trees aglow
With shimmering shades and bright yellow,
And where each backdrop’s reddish scene
Is sprinkled with some evergreen.

It seems to be a magic sign
When colors clash against the pine,
And temperatures begin to change
While verdant hillsides rearrange.

What words are there left to say
When you've said all you can
How can you encourage others
If you're sinking in quicksand

What can you do to lift others up
If you're depressed beyond messure
How do you impress everyone else if
You're still looking for buried treasure

You can't always be the champion
There'll be days you are going to fall
Every now and again a time will come
When you won't get to answer the call

I should be out now
In the warmth of the sun.
Playing with Fairies,
We would have such fun.

What's that I hear?
Two and two make four!
I really don't care
School can be such a bore.

Oh! this classroom seat
So hard on my bum.
(Can I say that?)
Please don't tell my mum.

Still the Fairies will wait
Till the day ends
With the ringing of the bell
Then it's off with my friends.