A Curtailed Waltz

Touching the light
Turning it off
Seasoning sight
Late little loft

Jumping in a ring
Knew not
Sought 
As mine
Danced on a string
Often
Off line

Spilt in the Sea
Nor true
Or 
Nor false
Is ours dear
To be
A curtailed waltz

We Look Good In Writing

We look good 
In writing..

In my porn spun thoughts
 However 
… this exists
Only in dots

 It’s…
Nirvana
to tap my fingertips
Our tale

Without ships
Setting sail

Our fable
In words
Much braver

We are awkward 
In the flesh
Words hang
In the air
Like misplaced care
Unable to mesh
Out of sync

In ink 
We are best
I do think

I’ve conjured up
Prose
And traffic 
On lines of pages
Printed
Map to nowhere
Glinted

‘Twas a lovely gesture, 
This mind of mine
To think 
I was more
Than just a whore
Book bound ink

Pretty words
Posing 
Where  placed
On pages for us
Interlaced
In tint
Yet
Only for print

Latest Style

Here
See me now
Complete
All the years
Etched 
In corners
Of eyes and mouth
Little doll
Still sweet
Showing cracks
I still pose 
Painted smile
Pretty dress
Covers most
Here
Take me now
Complete
All the pain
Tucked inside
Still sweet
You can 
Have me 
For awhile
I still pose
In the dark
Latest style
Covers most

A THOUGHT THAT IS NOT

I slept 
With red lipstick on
In the event
That by dawn
You would visit me
In my dreams
My lips would taste you
And scream
“You are not what you seem!”
I walked with your song 
In my ears
In the event
You would appear
Could hear you 
Draw near
I smelled 
The shirt you left behind
Its fragrance divine
A memory of mine
I felt
A familiar pain
Like cold aching rain
You are only a thought
Of all that is not

I KNOW MADNESS

 

 

                                                   

I know madness and she knows me
Longtime friend of the family
We’ve kept wonderful company
Genetics scorned by destiny

In our world of make believe
My companion loves to grieve
And in our laughter she keeps the tune
Of one who knows another’s moon

In abundance and every need
She is my left my right my creed
And in our world only she’ll
Know what is and isn’t real

I don’t cheat on myself

” I don’t cheat on myself.” Those are the words of the enigmatic poet, Bob Dylan. He also once said, “Words are everything.”, I feel the same -perhaps to others, just a game. I have cheated on myself. I have been cheated. The sword of duplicity slashed every recognizable portion of my being, and forced me to take note, that the truth is a lie. I’ve settled for demons.  I’ve settled for last place. I’ve settled for an illusion opposed to the tangible. While I applied basic first aid, to mortal wounds, band aids to soul trauma, while I danced as fast as I could, to allow a leech to bleed me dry, in hopes I would one day, catch his eye, his sights were firmly set on the thrill of cheating himself and others. His appetite insatiable for the bankruptcy of other’s egos. He scrambled for fiction with such ease in alignment with deception, he spilled the beans, the blood, the lies, and cried for himself when the karmic pain bit him back. He cheated himself.
Some of life’s lessons are the most toxic, most destructive, most transformative, and written in the stars. They spelled out a lesson that slit my soul searching the skies. Life has settled and clarity no longer alludes me. I rebuild my soiled soul, piece by peace, and, I no longer cheat on myself.