The World I Created

I tell you a tale of a magical place
Where my dreams and visions run free.
It’s not here or there
Or anywhere that you would be able to see.
For tis in my mind
Where I can be simply me.

Oh wouldn’t you like to visit
This place that is all mine.
And see what it is
That keeps me thinking all the time.
Ah but if you could you would see
You would know, everything is not fine.

For in my mind
Things can turn sour.
Something new starts to spin
At the beginning of every hour.
Oh. But even this
Can give me power.

Could you survive
In the world I created?
Would you be thrown aside
Into the utmost hated?
Come, visit, and we shall see
Exactly where you are to be fated.

Best of luck to you
My dear, dear friend.
May this not be
You’re complete end.

deep inside your alley

sea turtles belly-up in ocean oil rig spewing in gulf what is the goal in afghanistan will someone please explain to me what is the strategy what does the united states realistically hope to achieve? anyone try scoring heroine on the streets lately cheaper cleaner stronger than ever good afghany white traitor in the house killer in the house quiet as a mouse children signal from hilltops dust of advancing armored vehicles thunder in the ground bullets blackening air smell of gunpowder damn birds eat my grapes tomatoes predator drones targeting 2 moving bodies smell of sex my nose tongue deep inside your darkness deep inside your alley cat catahoula hound killer in the house quiet as a mouse night descends damn fool moon children running to front lines unafraid to die soldiers crawling to front lines tormented by nightmares losing their nerve with every lie they tell themselves seemed like good idea at the time it’s complicated who made us what we are we’re all crazy dream of paradise wind struggles twists my stomach a man like you her eyes beg for your return deep inside your alley cat catahoula hound killer in the house quiet as a mouse

Bewitched By the Eyes

Eyes of green and blue
Eyes of hazel and turqiouse
Eyes of red and gray
Doesn’t matter the color
Just the sight, the visual voice
Man looks into woman’s eyes
Sexy
Woman looks into man’s eyes
Handsome
Didn’t know that those eyes
Saw their brother being held for a ransom
Those eyes saw their dad
Shot in a war that had nothing to do with him
Those eyes saw abuse
Of the mental and physical
Of the emotional, too many commercials
Distractions to see the truth
Interruptions that bewitch your mind
Not letting you see the real view
That this world is and will be forever cruel
Don’t get upset, its true!
Colors in the eyes
Don’t match the colors in this living globe
The colors in the eyes are bright and beautiful
While the colors in this globe
Are dark, they’re cold
And will never get old
Why?
It’s constantly changing
Rearranging
Generations aging
But no matter how old we get
Or worse, or dry, or painful
It will always be bewitched by fake words
And beautiful eyes

Wasted Heart

The mouth of his lover
is stirring,
Yet he only hears silence.
The mental tv is on,
his least favorite show,
her least favorite episodes,
The episodes that replay,
Like a syndicated show,
On an old network.

She said being with him ails her,
Yet when they are only in skin,
Savoring each other’s flesh,
Sharing each other’s air,
She glows like untouched magma.

Amazing how what brought them
Together will blast them apart.
The needles and vials
Were a fun retreat,
But the honeymoon is over,
And so is his patience.

Wrecked trust and
Beaten egos
Are the victims here,
Not he or she.
Not it or that.

When night falls,
As her body does after the usual day’s toil,
He will end her all at once,
End her waste,
End her sanity,
End her green,
End her jaded fog.

Thought to use the nitric acid,
Even considered her violin string,
But it’s cleaner,
And it’s legal,
To just leave her as she is,
While he goes on as himself.

Jealousy Consumption

Jealousy consumes the best of us
but the best don’t hurt like the rest of us.
As long as it doesn’t grow to envy
the ones in the hoopdie dream of the bentley.
The bentley rider rides with pride
while the one in the hoopdie swurves to the side
No need to compare becasue the difference is clearly there
And all the jealous one can think in his head is
“this life that I’m living really isn’t fair.”
And what makes it worse is that no one else seems to care
Your dreams ripped to shreds with one single tear
Feeling like your body has just been stripped bare
For a while you weep, until you’re eventually asleep
And when you tell your story all you get is “that’s deep”
That’s just the little jealousy creep

Seasons of Amity

It is spring;
I hear the jittery pollen,
The sun’s cheer,
The sky’s chuckle,
squirrel perversions.
Our friendship is a babe,
Swaddled with coos and beams,
Feeding off breast nectar.
This babe’s skin is hemp,
Hair of cashmere.
It is summer;
I smell the new berries,
The shy rivers,
The social fly,
squirrel chatter.
This friendship is youth,
It gossips with me,
Even about me when gone.
This youth’s skin is nylon,
Hair of cotton.

It is autumn;
I see the orphaned leaves,
The cool wafts,
restless beetles,
the squirrel whispers.
Our friendship is an adult,
Pushing and loathing,
Stubborn but faint.
This adult’s skin is burlap,
Hair is denim.
It is winter.
I feel the stillness of air,
The timed silence,
The derelict warmth,
the squirrel unseen.
This friendship has passed,
with the dust it goes,
the faux joys,
the fire wood,
the faded hearts.
The skin is weathered,
The hair, no more.

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