Frozen Decadence
Usually, I can force
all who have desires to hastily drink up
and drown in a spiral of never-ending wants.
I can lick souls to death and catch hope on fire;
it's almost too easy, but someone has to do it.
Most days, the game of manipulation brings
forth sparkling innocence, which I shred to pieces
with only a glare of sugary lust.
I can blind those who would otherwise give
and I can deafen those who habitually listen.
But, alas. when the autumn air chills
and snowflakes fall upon my misery,
I seek refuge for a smidgen of time and freeze.
Strange red and green balls of light
drape over my power and weaken me.
Silver and gold tinsel, surely infused with optimism,
strengthens my everyday victims; they do not feel me.
Quite foreign to the likes of me, hope rules without fear.
I am left abandoned in an abyss of frigid solitude
where I fester until 'tis the season is over.
("Frozen Decadence" published by Soul Engravings many moons ago.)
Into Madness
and blue skies water-logged with magenta
are precious treasures I strive to remember.
Soft gurgle of the stream behind my shack
is a vague sound stuck
in my recollections of yesterday.
I ache to leap into cool water
and fall far away from this insufferable place.
I can still recall soothing scents of flesh
dipped into vanilla and kissed by pure silk,
but she lives only in a dream.
Presently, north to south and east to west
is possessed by hell.
Black smoke singes my weakening lungs
while a hideous laughter invades scant sanity.
Death frequently visits and is dismayed
I refuse to obey its plea into darkness.
Nay, I shall not succumb to the pits.
In this trench of massive destruction,
I'll await another filthy bloodbath
and remember why I was sent here.
With honor, I shall defend liberty
and slip into madness.
("Into Madness" published by The Seeker Magazine, 2005)
Nothing Ordinary
The sun does not exist.
Rather, a scarlet ball of fire
torching clouds against a baby blue blanket
of smeared magnificence cries out
demanding to be seen.
Never would a moon shine.
A glass marble smoothed over
by deception parades in the night sky
to mystify and secrete spells
into the hearts of men,
so they can see their enemies
and protect all allies.
What is fog?
Alas, a mist of forgotten memories
floating about so thoughts cannot
be shoved into an austere reality.
Laughter resides in the cool haze
where dreams are made
and terrors rise.
Imagine a cobalt ocean.
Nay. Waves of violet smudge together
with turquoise and gray until
blackness oozes like wet ink
from a wishing well filled with
regret that can stain, forever.
And then there's dirt.
Preposterous to believe chocolate colored
batter beneath all life is common,
since the layers of sand and rock
mesmerize with rainbows of life
from which sustenance is supplied.
("Nothing Ordinary" published by Word Slaw, 2008.)
