In Memory Of

The blindfold is off
the scales are broken.
Her sword is rusted dull.

Disallusioned and weary,
the corruption of power
has beaten Justice down.

The lobbyists now rule.
Void Judgement is out,
no where to be found.

Now meaningless are
Jefferson's libertarian words,
he never envisioned this.

The laws don't apply
to any of these;
Judges, Lawyers or Lobbyists

It's just a fucking free for all.
Since Justice no longer prevails

Dreams in Waiting

A ghost moon rises with twilights fall.
An evening vesper ritual begins,
beyond the dune grass covered shore,
sifting over wood planked paths.

The symphony of the pounding surf
calms the mind of it's whirling thoughts.
Warm sea spray dusts skin with salt,
as cool sand caresses weary feet.

A few minutes spent in self company
entertaining the beach with the day's events.
Making a wish on the first star out,
or casting a dream on the ocean waves.

Out past the moonset from the twinkling sky
into the universe that dream does join
the myriad of other dreams sent up
each to flicker in the galaxies.

There every dream awaits a chance
to become
a hoped and prayed for
reality.

Where Are You

So many tries,
most just because.
Few were kept,
as close as it got.
Now another passes.
The search begins again,
unsatisfied.
Will it ever find?

Forever Not Together

All of me cries out for you.
No distance of space,
nor lapse of time
has lessened the yearning.
To feel you.
To breathe you.
To touch you.
To be inside of you.
Totally consumed with joy.
We were suppose to be forever.
We still are,
just not together.

The Awakening

When the final breath on Earth is taken
and eyes are closed for good.
This way of being will fall away
and all will be set free.

For then at last life begins.
The soul will travel other planes,
to other worlds in other ages.
In time, in space and self
to be transformed

As quantum paradox reveals
the mysteries we once perceived.

There is no past.
There is no future.
All time is present now.

Betrayed

I push it away,
not strong enough.
Savage entered me,
abrating skin like coarse sandpaper.
Screaming, crying
but it is only in my mind.

Betrayal of all
it will never leave.
It is always there,
eager to re-enter,
ready to strike.

Stop!
Lock the door!
Cannot bleed again.
Must bury the key
it can never be found.

Frayed Wiring

My wires are frayed,
thoughts will not move
to my lips from my head.

My fingers can paint them.
My fingers can write them.
My fingers can even play
them on keys.

But with words insufficient
to convey such feelings,
the body speaks volumes
with the touch of my hand.

Holding Fast To Belief

Your presence on earth was all too short.
I blinked my eyes and you were gone.
Impelled now in memories to reside,
still fresh as if made yesterday.
The timeline in my mind obscurred,
cherished past becomes the now.
As patient life continues on,
the heart enduringly believes.
In flesh to me you cannot return,
someday I'll travel on to you.

A Moment in Kansas

Prismatic colors suspended from the clouds,
sailing across the wet wheat field.
Breathtakingly, clearly three dimensional,
vivid red, electric blue and emerald green,
together creating shades in between.

Silent was the air as it raced to me.
Mesmerized and transfixed
I am unable to move.
The transparent color spectrum
enveloped me.

My eyes saw bright, I forgot to breathe,
and then it was gone.
For one intoxicating moment I became,
every color of that rainbow and it became me.

Winter's Dream.

Cold,
the air is still and soft.
Snowflakes float weightlessly by
and dance atop yesterday's snowfall.
They tickle my face
like the whispered kiss of a lover.
Swirling around
and embracing me with
ephemeral arms,
pulling me down
to the soft bed of white.
Lifting my head I close my eyes,
and daydream of being with you.

The Handshake

You were sitting unawares
when I happened to come along.
You shook my hand,
you had no clue,
what that simple touch would do.

What Might Have Been

It is raining.
Droplets race each other
down the outside of the window pane.
The wine bottle empty sits on the ledge.
Saying goodbye,
you shut the door behind you.
Pressing palms against the glass,
I watch you walk away.
You stop
and begin to turn around.
I catch my breath
and start for the door.
Neither of us finish the motion.

The Grand Tour

A friend commented how all my writing is dark and gloomy. I don't view it as such. It is a human emotion that the artist in me is able to pull more creativity from than other emotions. But for everyone who prefers a lighter note, I have a little ditty from a few years ago.

I saw Paris, I saw France.
Oh yes they saw my underpants!

So did Rome, so did Venice.
They did leer when I lost my brassiere.

All through Europe I did diddle.
What a tour that was!

But it wasn't my heart I left overseas,
please forward my clothes to me!

The Garden of the Dead

In the garden of the dead.
Solemn angels, marble saints
broken crosses, silent lambs,
in shades of white and ghostly gray,
taken root in well trod soil.

Row by row in measured distance,
these sentinels of human history.
Their hardiness stands testament,
to origins of mountain quarries.

No sustenance is needed here,
warmth of sun, quenching rain
nor shelter from winter's icy winds.
They stand together yet alone.

Each one boasts a date of planting,
as well as each a different name.
Existing in perpetual bloom,
yet no one comes to pluck these petals.

Gazed upon by tear filled eyes,
reaching out across the chasm,
often crying in a whisper;
My time with you was not enough.
In the garden of the dead.

Those Words

Those words,
delivering a silent bullet
piercing my thoughts.

Those words,
burned into my mind
forever echoing inside.

Time has only diminished the shock,
of those words.
Time has not diminished the pain,
of those words.

The Apology

How carefully we choose our words,
our steps, our looks, our very thoughts,
all our collected accoutrements
as not to disturb the delicate balance
our life together has taken on.

How did such a relationship evolve?
From loving words and seductive glances,
holding hands and passionate kisses,
hurrying home to be with each other.

Do we have enough resolve?
To discuss what brought us to this point,
and plot a course to strengthen bonds,
in end to reclaim what was lost.

Or will we simply fade away,
too stubborn willed to compromise.
Too unconcerned in our contented lives
to dismantle self built walls.
Too proud to say, I'm sorry.

Untitled

My heart longs for places
that hold no memories.
Fresh town and cities,
abundant with streets
and roads untravelled.
Buildings with doors
I've never walked through.
Windows with views
I've never beheld.
Places without
the ghosts of ones who were.
No haunting memories
in places new.

Untitled

Why should I trust you.
Your words have no touch.
Your touch has no feel.
Your feel holds no truth for me.

We are just vessels of pleasure,
attention within.
Even love murmurs hollow
yet again.