The Window

A Second Chance

Silent Lucidity

Waiting For The Bellhop

i am not him
i am not the calm before the storm
i am not the great siva
i am not the depth of peace or the dizzying heights of fear

perhaps expected
either late or early
time plays tricks
all according to plan
so goes the theory of chaos

 such is the malestrom
entered glibly
such are the dangers of rocks hidden by froth
perhaps the lighthouse
perhaps the shore

stronger and true
can we balance the blade?
scream the pain of being
sought and avoided

the inevitable change
the chance for growth
freedom to be
what

i cherish the sparks
fear the burns
welcome the warmth
fan the fire

i am not what came before
i am what is now
and perhaps what can be
carpe diem
i am me

tearing, rending, pain, numbness

anger
hatred
playing the fool, once again, smart guy

disassociation. Conversations with self

burn in hell o evil heart that 'guides'!
i understand balance
i accept karma
but damn it Fate, you are overdrawn!

worth the risk?, aye that is the rub.
easy to say, hard to swallow

stupid, stupid, stupid!

dialin for Dylan,
yo assfuck, what’s so bad about a good night?

tender hatred,
now there's a feeling

knowing the smart thing
striving for the great thing instead
stupid, stupid, stupid!

damn it Jim!

i didn't sign up to be Job!
He's dead Jim!
But that’s impossible!
Hurts too much to be dead

searing numbness
a sharpened, deafening hiss
the modern wailing of the banshee

twist the dagger deeper
revel in the pain of self remorse
aye, the marquis knew a few things

 torrents of feelings behind glassy eyes
made the choices, took the noble path
focused and caring, like the ass on the hill

cauterize the wound?
break free of the heinous brambles?
or let the blood flow in hopes that the infection will clear?

leave and the evil leaves with you
stay and it returns, solely to destroy what you love.

is it so hard to see what is broken and bent on self-destruction?
it consumes all the that is good in a great flame of immolation.
it knows not true love, only the desire to possess and destroy.

ah my kingdom for an exorcist
know the strategist
prefer the Truth

someone has taken my marbles away!

The Bitch

Gather round, one and all.
Her arrogance frankly amazes!
See the Great Helena, a muse so small.
Let’s break her down in phases.

Brackish, the blood within her veins,
Bled like tears from an evil clown.
The Mistress of Unimagined Pains,
Has truly come to town.

To believe in you, I am the fool.
To believe in yourself, how profound the gall!
So failed artist, I’m your tool.
A tool you so blithely ball.

But that was not enough.
Naught can fill your dark hole.
So you like it rough?
Oh Great Helena the Mole.

Sick and twisted,
Pervertor of lore.
Through eyes misted,
I see the whore!

These acts you cannot retrieve
How profound the conceit,
That lets you believe,
Your presence, my words complete.

I cast ye back into the flame,
To the netherworld from which you arose!
You've fractured your guilded frame,
I credit you only for the pain in this prose!

 
Poe told his tale of hyacinth hair
Expounded words on that fair face
He did not speak that verse for me

Here and now is caution not
As deftly I cleave the lace
Poe told his tale of hyacinth hair

Feel me as Guin did Lancelot
Breathless we maintain the pace
He did not speak that verse for me

Until we lay drenched and shot
Seared memories that will never erase
Poe told his tale of hyacinth hair

A lovely mystery with sordid plot
To rend our lives from the common place
He did not speak that verse for me

Seize our pleasures before we rot
That is our prize in this human race
Poe told his tale of hyacinth hair

He did not speak that verse for me