Darkest of souls are not where they long to go, nor where the living judge them to be.
Their wicked sins, sown among the living, have planted them here as a vile seed.
In the one plentiful field where no crows feed, nor ever bleed for such an evil seed.

They lie captive to the reaper’s greed, feasting on the blood of their eternal bleed.

Staked to the cedar-rot of a crossbeam post, staring back gleefully at your condemned ghost.

Rewriting Memory

And delivered right into temptation
My soul went from the smoke into the flame
Yet in a right state of mind and elation
I saw the likely consequences in frame

But the inclination and impulse lingered
Buried deep under layers of decorum
Like some dormant beast waiting to be triggered
In the furthest reaches of the darkest room

And it waited with anticipation
Amidst wicked dreams and roguish fantasies
Permeating through the imagination
Teased with so many possibilities

it is convenient
For me
To pray for my father
Every night
Before I go to bed
Now my father
Is finally answering my prayers
He is the one who gave
My life
Also I was
Made in God's image
God tells me
I am a handsome men
In his eyes
That is his opinion
I don't arque about that
To my father
I have my own opinion
I am already an old man
My hair is falling out of my head
I am now a bald man
I am also have my sickness
I am not healthy anymore

Rewriting Memory

I knew I tried to do my best to be honest
But sometimes some relationships don’t pan out
Even if there’s a light amidst kindred spirits
Feelings can dry up and go into a drought

And maybe it was the times and those days of youth
Like a rollercoaster – emotions ran wild
One day we’re all laughing and the next we’re crying
One day I’m wanted and the next I’m exiled

In my father's lap I found comfort
about age four accidentally locked in
at the top of the basement stairs
looking down into the dark unknown
rat ridden hole my back against the door
I turned away blinded by terror
of the climb down to another exit
pounding my fists against the glass and
wood and screamed forever until
miraculously you came Dad in your
leopard skin dressing gown gathered
me up into the kitchen and rocked me
in the sunlit space by the window.

from the side of his mouth, long pauses
keep me on the edge of my seat
for fear that I might fall asleep.
He squints into the sun that’s crept
below the blinds and fingers catch
the panic tumbling from his eyes.
I focus on the sweat that forms
and blurs like condensation.

We spend an hour like this each week -
the futility of CBT.
We contest from each side of this desk
a too predictable game of chess –
I’m always white, Bruce always black:
defensive, dogged to the last.

I never expect the universe to explain itself.
Or love, for that matter.

But our dogs are sleeping in your lap,
because that's where they want to be.

And you ask me how you look,
the wind ruffling your dress,
before we go out.

While the universe maintains its silence,
I feel clarity among the ease.

Severely off key psyche
thus sought out re:
urgent need of a C (see) T (Tee)
(Computed Tomography) scan
courtesy X-rays to create
detailed cross-sectional images
of the brain, skull and sinuses.

Circa ~ month unknown
year nineteen hundred and seventy three
yet don't quote me on that.

rewriting memory

pow! that’s when life hit me right square in the face
i had to quickly learn how to roll with the punch
but then that’s when i also lost all hope and faith
so i had to follow my instinct…with a hunch

adulthood can sometimes be cruel mother
when some of the lessons were harsh, brash but fair
and then there were times when i had it coming
if i was moving on…i had to grow a pair