Posted by admin on January 21, 2012
A principle dictating impossibility
For the mouse who builds her house
In the upturned fields
Of God’s creation.
The fog that blinds the treachery
Planned for me by my own heart
Beneath golden dreams
Of temptation.
A pen or pixel – keystroke beneath
Glaring LED – drops hopes
Hurriedly for tomorrow
Of absolution.
The colored page steady time reveals
Is blank for another long hour
That brings no assurance
Of resolution.
Another power comes – not lightly –
To shed brilliant heat
On the crumbled ashes
Of dejection.
A voice whispers, a call pleasantly
Promises peace; I hear
Soft sweet songs – promises
Of inspiration.
Posted by admin on January 4, 2012
Forever.
A day plus a day plus infinity.
Happiness, bliss, one day
rolls from joy to joy, merrily.
Forever.
But longing, ingratitude, spite -
these vampiric voices
bleed out the happy night.
Forever.
An infinity of pleasure,
An eternity of horror,
Which do you choose?
Forever.
The mind’s eye sees
the illusions it creates,
your view of eternity.
Posted by admin on July 23, 2011
The allure of Death,
In a thousand faces,
Sings siren verses
Of hope and loss and mirth.
Allure?
Certainly.
Why then glamorized
In fiction and fact
By those seeking Earth’s lucre?
Or is this appeal personal,
To an agonized soul
In pain through hairs and toes
And mind-scrabblings irrational.
There can be no seduction without life.
Living is essential.
The paradox
Of wanting death in life
Is a fool’s paradise.
Just as money and fame
Pass,
Leaving empty traces;
So too is Death empty.
Pain, for all its horror,
Is real.
Is honest.
Posted by admin on June 2, 2011
broken, severed, dismantled entirely
.
The sad shame of leaving
Memories
Drifts over my mind.
.
A healthy message
Under trees where sunshine and shadow
Meet in Eldorado.
.
Ride in a car,
Race from afar,
All of us
To the broken past,
Like glass, that can’t paste
Itself together.
.
You broken theme,
You broken thing,
My broken dream,
dingalingaling
Posted by admin on May 30, 2011
Boromir, Boromir, son and brother dear,
Prince of stewards, son of the white tower,
Has deep Anduin born thee far or near?
Past Osgiliath? Through Ithilien? To the sea?
Will grey eyed elves look upon your face
As they seek the misty isles of legend,
Or chase your memory across the waves?
Minas Tirith misses his steward son.
Boromir, hero of a thousand bloody frays,
From Imildris thy paths have led; Through
Darkness and into the Golden Wood led the way.
Man, born in dark times, weaned in fervor,
By blade thou lived, by blade died in honor.
Posted by admin on May 26, 2011
The noise.
Bounces inside me.
Tinkles, crashes, wrinkles
My thoughts like newspapers.
Stop!
Stop!
The whooping,
Hollering,
Whispering,
Tapping.
The rapping inside my skull.
Bone to bone,
Drum to drum,
Without respite,
Until the beat of pain
Replaces music.
Pause.
In silence.
Posted by admin on May 23, 2011
Faramir, fairest brother, fairest son-
Lost to shadow, reclaimed by one
Whose icy tears dragged her breath
From Rohan’s halls near unto death.
In Angmar, long ago, their fate
Was etched upon destiny’s slate.
A hobbit broke the twisted wyrd
Below the white city on the greensward:
The witch king has cursed the pair-
Tho’ steadily they conquer despair.
Now in fair Ithilien’s quiet cover
Forever they dwell as hopeful lovers.
Posted by admin on May 19, 2011
There is too much inside of me,
intensely burning hot behind iron gates.
Me, the me that wishes to be heard screams
out, or would. I, the I to connect the dots
between me and who I found.
Can you surf the emotional wave?
Or will you drown in the depth
Of what I can’t yet say?
A fire that burns too hot.
The smoke gets in your face
and makes you cry and cough;
sputter on; ashamed,
nervous, wanting, confused
at an imaginary problem that isn’t you.
The answer is hold me.
Let me believe.
Let me know that you
want my intensity.
Posted by admin on May 16, 2011
Mithrandir walked the ages;
Mithrandir walked with kings.
Mithrandir, exalted among sages,
Searches ever for the one ring.
Of hobbits and trolls, bold dwarves
And gently persistent chanting elves,
Mithrandir knows the secret hordes
That dragons keep for themselves.
In gray or white, to men a storm,
He wanders from cave to clearing;
He takes a hobbit to rob a worm;
Mithrandir always brings a warning.
In Moria he bought
With price paid fraught,
A cloak of white
To catch a light
And bring the world a hope.
From hobbit hole
To courtroom cold
He chased the ring
And made a king.
Posted by admin on May 12, 2011
A voice
blurred, pixilated,
spatters chatter
across wires.
Hopes spark.
Silence follows.
Hard.
Cold.
Brutally empty.
This silence weighs
on my mind,
my chest,
my heart,
my brain,
sitting darkly down.
Sparks flash
and die.
