We're all going to die.
Losing my religion didn't stop the end of days.
Revelations don't stop coming.
Illusions obscure our true doom's gaze.
Confronting death trying to survive,
Reaching out to reach back inside,
Making right what must end.
I'd like to carry you to the last puddle on Earth,
Holding onto one another as the empires fall.
Or, knowing well they all must end,
We band together to bury them all.
Laughing all the way to the grave,
We paved the road to more innocent days.
In peace, health, and love;
Waving goodbye to our ghosts and old ways.
In a labyrinth of words
Where ideals meet the sinews of flesh and bone
We learn there are as many broken hearts
As swords and broken bodies.
Love hopes never to ache so badly,
Quietly praying to conquer everything
In the end, knowing what must never happen
Has happened and will again.
Human beings always believing,
Being beasts in angels' dreams,
In anything but the inevitable disaster
Of being born for suffering.
Cup of Midnight
There's a bitter black tea
At my favorite cafe,
Wormwood black, like a poisonous
That I like to guzzle on a
Wet, windy day;
So perfectly perverse, so warm and
Tingley to my pallette.
When October turns cold and my
Temper turns brittle,
Solace seems as off as the
Sweetness of Spring.
Shedding the skin of a
The crow and the raven within me
Like showers of kisses, with hints of
Smoke and ripe cherries,
And passions pulling thick as wads
Of black licorice,
I'll fall, diving down with you
And die in the moment to make
Born In A Storm
I planted my flowers in a storm without a center.
Everything they needed poured onto them from the wind.
The higher they grow, their roots go deeper,
And the more they feel the pouring sky above the heads.
They asked me when the rain would stop, and I answered,
Telling them they were planted in a storm without an end.
Since then my flowers have gotten quieter,
And I don't really know what they perceive or understand.
The answer was simple, but they seem desperate to comprehend.
What it means to be a flower is beyond me,
And beyond them, I'm beginning to suspect.
They were lost in the storm and looking for themselves.
Growing up and growing old, evolving in place.
Whatever meaning they may have, might blow by them perchance.
Unfortunately, they're all quite mad.
Falling For …
Cool, quiet,and still mornings; alone.
A chord striking, resonating, and going silent.
Pale light still warm enough to touch faces.
A pit in your stomach, nowhere to go.
Fall, fall, September;
Autumn sadness, stillness,
Peace and horror.
Burning, burning, bonfires and leaves;
Passions singing, sang, and then falter.
You'll never know their love again.
The sky is beautiful, blissful, and so are you.
As beautiful as it is to cry,
It cuts so softly so much deeper
Since I gave up faking
And started listening to your whisper
Its smoother going down
But gets me so much faster now,
Those feelings that I'd missed
And that I pretended missed me somehow
Apples & Honey
Her every word is something sweet. She speaks so sensibly and smiles, And cares like caring is a treat Too tempting to stay away from. To taste her mind would nourish you, And reason out those foolish tricks That frightened you into pushing away The parts of you you're missing. And beauty hardly describes her face; The life, the light behind her eyes That permeates in any place She goes to be alive in. She's sweet enough to drown in, To swallow down until you're sick. It's hard to put the bottle down When it insists you drink it. Apples and honey make a snack So tempting its hard to turn away. As one should never lack for love, Having lacked, it still gives me stomach pains.
Love Spelled With A Capital “E”
Men, women, and persons;
You enigmas of violence, misery, sex, and boredom;
How are you feeling?
To what end is your violence?
To what depth does your misery brood?
What comfort have you found in sex?
What madness does your boredom uproot?
If you're honest, I would guess, every answer, some way, stems from love.
Acknowledge this with me if you expect my intimacy.
Asleep in your dream They whisper in your ear As if they were beside you Delicately, dulcetly, in the voice of a kiss "Show us who you are,..." They tear away your covers, And you'll probably awake.
Clear your muddled, cluttered head
And have a slice of honeyed bread
To take into your secret room
Where your tea is hot and your flowers bloom.
There, you’ll think and have a smoke,
Text a friend with a random joke,
Watch the birds and people go by
From the window on the other side,
Start the first lines of a poem,
And just feel fully alive and alone.