A Dream Of Joy The air is crisp with autumn’s mist, leaves twist in cool, blowing wisps. Her face, as delicate as fine lace, compliments the colors of this place. Winter’s despair, quickly impaired, by the soft, subtle rustle of her care. Never ending eyes are open so wide, she cannot hide all the beauty inside. Skeleton branches itch like scratches, while emptiness dances in lonely trances. Tears of blue, battered and bruised, are now refused by a smile that soothes. Sleet and ...

A Familiar Foe An anxious, faltered patience be waits us in tired emptiness. Paces twist with repeated spin. What’s past is the same again. Blue barrels bore pouring tears, Open, flowing emotion boils bare. A lonely, blank stare stands heavy where soft whimpers fear to tread. Waving white flags fade to red, the blood of many has been shed. Repetition is held in contempt, for its sickened cycles never end.  

Shadow Play There’s a dark sun on the horizon blazing shadows across the land. Puppets pirouette in silhouette, and plagues punish the damned. Lowly men brew behind blackness, where brighter things bend to break. Secrets scowl with empty howls, while desolate days pass through haze. Bright eyes hide, disguised behind bludgeoned beauty that can only cry. Wisdom weeps, bloody and beat by twisted words, tangled to terrify. Here, fear, like a blanket on a bed, spreads where noble truths li...

Apparition A bittersweet symphony accompanies conjured comprehension eloquently. Communication, refused adamantly, was never negative intentionally. Self-defense of a ghostly presence removes rotten dreams of essence. Rehabilitation, an objective mission, is flanked by presumptive premonition. Simple motives mired in memory, subconsciously stir conspiracy. Jealousy, not realized conceptually, conceives of a sordidly seditious reality. A sacrificial ceremony then proceeds with the execution...

Captivity An apparently particular perception stems from checked choices, mated. Pipelined prophets propagate messages that thunder under surface appearances- supplying only subtly soothing nuances. Perpetuated images ignite dissonance, leaving altered facts behind graphics that spiral back when emotions are taped. Reality hangs in the hollow hands of infinity, Swaying high, tied by misled uncertainty.

Wicked Schemes Confusion creeps into seams of reasons not quite known, pendulums swing fast past nothing but possible plans, and definitions, in suspension, teem at the top of guillotines. Blazing blades do drop like cold cutting, sterling steel. Executions of illusions send misconceptions to the grave, and truth, like irrefutable proof, validates what will be saved.

With a “Q” Exuberant rays shine through the cloudy face in the sky, scenery speaks in colors, and beauty never asks why. High tides talk low amongst land so dry it cannot drink. Emptiness hollows holiness, and loneliness smiles with a wink. Ancient knowledge twists in subsequent sectors of the mind. Truth is real until it lies, and the wind is wiser than time. Infinite possibilities dance before fleeting moments hit reality. The ripe sunset bruises black, and spontaneity fades into anonymity....

Paint What You Like Curbs cut an outline that frame the stagnant, black sea in-between. Wires crucify the murky sky, It rises faster than Jesus Christ. Artificial, pre-assembled houses march single file in fad fashion, saluting all things the same. Phony things ring; real ones cast, past isn’t present, later ain’t neither. The blurry sun’s still right now, empty bags, like tumble weeds, freeze in audition as plastic acrobats. Pending decisions aren’t decided, and indecision kills determinism....

Free Bureaucracy The ice-cold gate looks so steel. Bronze leaves twist free in-between its prison posts standing like guards, and who wouldn’t like that feeling? The emptiness on the other side is complimented by the scenery. A great plane stretching so green With blazing grass just staring. A cold and quiet evening breeze fosters silence with a loud intensity, and the definition of this perception makes one question its authenticity. Contained within dictated boundaries, capable of incompreh...

Top Ranks and Secret Weapons All the words in the number of soldiers there would be if the sand from every ocean, beach, lake, river, and stream arose all at once, in one single, unified force, whose objective was to make you love me, would be flanked from every angle by the phantom enemy that is change. The army I once had is dead, defeated, and estranged. General Time recruited my mob of words and made you forget how to say my name. After such a battle, nothing is ever the same.