Cuff Links |
She never gets How things goLike why blood flowsAnd stains the carpetEven when she screams"Please stop it"Blood still flowsIt's not love Unless there's painTo ease all this painIt's all over she think...
Posted by on Tue, 21 Oct 2008 18:03:00 GMT |
Hallucinations |
It's all a matter of flickering promisesWith no words ever being spokenIt's a matter of a hope of a lifeWorth living againIt's love and it's war andI'm caught somewhere inThe middle of it allIt's nowh...
Posted by on Sun, 12 Oct 2008 16:00:00 GMT |
Stop a Moment and Stare at Trunks of Old |
Stop a moment and stare at trunks of old.Count the dark rings that tell its ancient age.Remember the days when you found it snowedYet even still its spread branches displayed.The weather, you knew, ha...
Posted by on Sun, 12 Oct 2008 13:17:00 GMT |
A Life Explained by a Spectator |
The sweeping sounds of gulls preying uponthose less inclinedto find a means of escape;the cold water crashingagainst shores jaggedlike the saws that swept the surrounding forestsclean just months ago;...
Posted by on Sun, 12 Oct 2008 13:15:00 GMT |
Breathless Sons of God |
All you breathless sons of GodCan't you control your thoughts?All those lessons that you taughtWere more like bombs you dropped.If it's a crime you needLook no further than your mind, you seeYour dark...
Posted by on Fri, 03 Oct 2008 23:02:00 GMT |
Living Rooms |
She smiles as she stands in the kitchenher face draped in whiteflush with the rise of morningHe stares at the ceilingtextured with yellow sideslike old books who starve to be readand thinks about noth...
Posted by on Sun, 21 Sep 2008 15:03:00 GMT |
The Burning of Homes |
I can only tell it's summerBy the burning of homesTheir smoke billows in the distance That I have to goAnd it's the only way I'll find the placeWhere I grew and will continue to growHow I love the sme...
Posted by on Sat, 20 Sep 2008 23:00:00 GMT |
To Understand and Question Death |
Death is formulaic:Set patterns in rhythms-to the rain-to the night-to the beat of wings,though inconsistent it may be.The real question:Is His guise-a friend-a mockery-a reliefor all of these things?...
Posted by on Tue, 29 Apr 2008 08:48:00 GMT |
The Ostracism of a Sweaty-Toothed Madman |
Across the room hung a portraitof a convicted madman.The wrinkles in his facewere like road maps leading tohis hard-fixed, swollen eyes.If you stare into those midnight starsyou will see memorieslike ...
Posted by on Fri, 22 Feb 2008 16:08:00 GMT |
