AU ("golden")

Slithering. they come hither.
subtle approaches.
a waning pace.
unmistakably brittle steps toward the infinite stair case.
one heavy foot at a time.
one ton steps toward the door.
the lights dimming as the night grows around her.

a reptilian smile.
soft glowing love
burdened by the ether of a majestic existence.
sharpened claws
painted excellence.
pearls atop her head.
and a milestone at her bed side.

tomorrow a new distance traveled
rolling stops on every cut corner.
great experiences on a granite cerebrum
life's empty nuances easily forgotten

bent finger tips
warm hands
tightly griping Charon's coins


 

Excuse me.

One takes the path of least resistance.
A steady pace in a flowing stream
a slotted entryway beneath a city on fire.
the valleys of courage dry and withered.
no rain to come for months.
One prays a storm is coming.


Excuse me
Teach me the ways of your reality.
Culture me in your views on society
lecture me on the skin and bones of sobriety
where can I bury my empty shell?


You are unaware of my concerns
I am not impressed 
no work of yours will earn your keep
no chance in hell you wasted creep.


*cough 
Bless you

Castle under Siege

The only beautiful things in this world are those things that endure and grow beyond impossible odds
The green of leafs burnt in my memory
the auspicious harbors of a vindictive sea.
the grey catacombs of the rhythmic tapping of underground currents
Time is the great equalizer.
courage is ever fleeting in that reality


The tree of knowledge is now spent.
all fruits picked and it's seeds spread thin
on mounds of concrete.
roads of cement and docks of self pity
the round table of equality broken in three parts
the knights now fight 'til mourning
while Guinevere and Lancelot
run amok in the kingdom


Mother nature's shade unbalanced by winter's bleeding edge
a nose dive by great magicians into the frozen lake of commiseration
blood on thin ice.

Tumultuous Heap

I want to convey how disgusting junk is.
I want to express the filth and clutter in a light so
atrocious that the thought of even the slightest pile is
so vehemently repulsive it would force any whom observe it to cringe in terror.


Junk is a cancer.
Materialism is the catalyst and
we as consumers self-perpetuate the disease.
I want to express how miserable reliance to objects is.
I want to express it in an impossible fashion.
One that is beyond reliance on pen and papers.
Ink and feathers.


Junk yards and grave yards contain
our afterbirth rotting underground.
laying beneath my feet is
the putrid bowel movements of our forefathers.
The malevolent stench of our own misdeeds.
Our own oblivious endeavors for a false sense of satisfaction.
I want to say.


It is all a waste and it will forever continue to be a waste