dark chapters #7…

i have been wondering
when you would realize
that these chapters
have no end
for they are written
with a pen flowing
with the hatred in human blood
blood graffiti
marring the streets
every inhabited space
on this planet
there is no
angel of death
there is no
for one
when men are
so true
to satanic tenets
as they
have always been
blind to the reality
that they are
am merely
their excuse
and so it was
on the seventh day
of satan


half awake i wander through my day
sometimes dreaming
sometimes fearing
the corners of my own thoughts
as if there were some evil there
(it’s just a childish nightmare…)
all i ‘ve sought was love
not always that with passion
but that love which is willing to give
not decreed to be given
by some collared representative of god
(it’s just a childish wish…)
my body seems formless one moment
caught in a repeating nightmare
floating with only the sound of my heart beat
then vibrant like the sound
a morning sunrise should make
alive with all the  wonders of life
like a child seeing his first parade
(it’s just a childish vision…)
i’m caught in this cycle
i ‘m the board which holds the anchor of the ship
and although the rest of the ship is gone
i am bound to these shores
crashing upon the rocks at low tide
and floating freely in the waves at high tide
(it’s just a childish sensation…)
soon the sea will rust these chains
and i shall float freely
without being held to these shores
till then
i must hold fast to what can be
and live with what is
and wander with the ebb and flow
that has brought me to these shores
(it is just the fate of men…)




photoshopping my life…

i wish i could convert
my life’s composite image
into one of those digital negatives
cause then
i could upload the whole thing into photoshop
and get busy fixing it
first thing i would do
is put you on the background layer of my life
so every layer of my life
would include you
that would clear up a hell of a lot
next i’d take that healing tool
and run it over my heart a couple times
maybe more
depending on which layer of my life i’m looking at
next i’d use that sharpening tool
on my head
just to clear up
some of life’s little mysteries
like how can kindness be used
as a weapon against you
and why do lies sound
better than the truth 
and how can god not act
when soulless men kill his children
before they have even begun
to breathe in the beauty of  life
then i’d bring into focus
all the lies that have been told
so folks would see them
for what they are
i’d add a little color to some folks
just to have them feel
what i have felt
oh and of course
i would definitely
use the eraser
well honey
you know how

tree house…

the leaves
like some broken patchwork
permitted light
to touch his face
forming shadows
of fine black lace
which caused the sun to wink at him
through these portholes
he saw the sky
the endless sea
of dreams untold
where clouds
were knights
and dragons bold
where he a boy could fly each day
but then
all too very soon
the night had cast
it’s spell on time
and from his tree
he had to climb
towards his fate with men
unable is he
to climb that tree
which led to dreams
that are untold
for now it’s limbs
refuse to hold
the boyish man
who tries to climb
now another
will climb his tree
permitting light
to touch his face
and from the sky
a dream embrace
before the night
can cast it’s spell