`
revolutions of the second hand
innumerable to the watchful eye
has not comforted this bruising
nor can this heart run far enough
away from the pulsing gangrene
when off the darkest mile it tread
in the cooling of a fading day that
gentle crushing fixed completely
drowning in despondent smiles
wafting wavelets forlorn, wailing,
whispering affections now silent
wanting a happier, more innocent time
`
.
In this lifetime of striving
childhood's tentative bumbling,
youth's arrogant impertinence,
middle aged regimented conceit,
in old age, encrusted intolerance;
when will we likely ever win?
.
.
unwritten words;
unprinted books:
orphaned thoughts
are never well placed
as an unread tome
or an uncommented
online posted poem
.
.
flame
running faster than
you can flutter a lash
flash
rushing swifter than
we can sniff a flower
fresh
rippling quieter than
they can queue on Black
Friday
.
.
Never too early, never too late;
Life can be a heaped-up plate.
Today you are comfy, tomorrow, lost;
Yesterday's loss determines the cost.
The future disguises no blemishes.
Hope's a parachute that never perishes.
.
filled with melancholy
mood lit by lampshade
names and faces dissipate
weathered post it sticks
if only the memory did
`
My butterfly is no longer mine,
I wonder if she ever really was;
When she alights on my shoulder
I know she wants me to hold her -
Flies off and she's mine no longer.
My butterfly so frail and fine,
I wonder if I was ever hers;
When she returns to kiss me again
I know she's more than just a friend -
Flies off and gone forever more.
`
`
Unearthing, sacred truths bring to light
so many things that beforehand lay hidden
and his voice rings clear and true
he fell off the wall, neither I nor you
to be himself and all he could be
with or without all the kings horses or men
to be yourself, his fervent wish
the road we each must take, alone
the futility we often times come against
a madding crowd - formidable, unforgiving
but the greatest hindrance lay within
laying down the dream is sure defeat
a parade, his childhood dream to see
and that he attained, however brief
the truth - his passing is not in vain
his light reveals the way of freedom
that gaze is faraway - not unfocused
meeting another set of questing eyes
sweetly surrender - a dream's demise
and like a phoenix - as new dreams arise
`