Poetry

Sharp and whittled branch laying
Toward the orange skybirds, and
The snazzy old man had a line
To say he was feelin’ fine, yesterday

Bring back the slackening tide
Dousing the coiled shells
On a beach in bleach without
And within the tiny hells

Soaring the child caught
A kite passing by through sludge
But the kitty said “heya now”
And left with a silent grudge

But the rhymes they’ve ended
And the words aren’t comin’ again
No more to hear the lost
Victims of stainless steel trays

So soak up the acid like
Tender fresh muscles
Worked like slaves to madness
Where the glossy white eyes

Wait and watch

Return

Eternal onging schemes
To have this figured out
A spicey dye, a fatal cry
A child that comes to pout

When the day leaves slicing
Detained by a thousand moulds
Can ever the pain yield moments
Like a light drifting in from space

Ace in the hole, go
Never could gentleman be
More fashionable than lice
Crawling in a turbid spree

Feel the paceless drone
Blind my ears and plug my eyes
Because a wasteless day drowns
Cold beneath a steady stream

Of endless nights

Ghost
A Light shadow seen by no one
My sadness pulls me, draws me
Like vapor dissipating in the wind
The cool air embraces the still
Of my passing emptiness