manifest is as a hologram of
frozen time

a potentiality
containing every possible outcome
of every possible circumstance

we wander the fragments
walk through emotion

and every thought
every choice
leads us
,

I scream
I scream like Munch's canvas
like Sartre and Camus
I scream at this meaningless existence,
I scream for you

Lets not make facile excuses
lets acknowledge the nihilism of death and life
lets be true to the worlds abuses
true to our pain and joy

Shallow illusions,
bogey men and saviours
fuck 'em all
we are in thrall
to knowledge of vacuity

as a stranger answers to your name
precious moments tumble
forever re-arrange
at their desire
events to play over in my mind

connect me with eternity
immerse me in the
emotional maelstrom
of love and pain that
had me crumble
under strain of under fire

suffocated by the veils of time
mixed with memories formed easily
omnipresent in my own magical
keepsake kingdom --

momentous or humble,
evenly strummed on evermore's lyre
nurtured
as is a well mellowed wine

The sun came out at night, it was a reflection
The moon came out in the daytime it was real
The stars are there day and night I see only half.
Take these things in, and know what you see.

The crispness
in each breath I own
announces this time of year;

I exhale
and it seems the leaves all turn.

All possibilities
of spring
pull the leaves to the ground,

then chance
comes into play where each will land.

In the end
the earth is nourished
and time must continue,

thus we are blessed
with harvest's yield for that year;

surrounded by pleasures
we'll find ourselves hovering nearer the hearth,
bundling-up to erase solstice's chill.

the sun burns in day skies
loyally in summertime
some cry out from its source of pain

longing peace and security
a trap into life's forge
fingernails scratching at lock doors

for entitlements enjoyed by elderly
fordone for all younger than 55
left to suffer at hands of corrupt ones

parched grass lay bare
no longer green
for those climbing fences

I once walked
with the empty streets
to meet the dawn
but they never took me there-
where peace could be found.

Instead they led me
to life's lamenting shores
where I endlessly talked
to the empty shells,
to the broken waves,
and to the withering sands
just to find out that
peace has there
forever drowned.

from freshly turned soil
nostalgia drifts
a raw sweet aroma
born of the season's virgin breath

space billows
reveals a stage
the light of my past beckons softly
and I return to a scene
that count has concealed

shadows shimmer in deep eddies
melodious tones
of times now long gone
fresh paint, new carpet
pristine polished timber -
the feel, the comfort of my very first home

 If in written words
 I wanted to tell
how much I owe you
I'd need some more forests
with more trees 

I'd need more tears to flood
(the ink of the eyne)
to evince my real gratitude
for a heart I thought is mine.

KDT 2

Goodbye my love
our times have come and gone
we passed through a luxuriant hallway
filled with obstacles and end tables
wall mounted swords on mahogany and velvet
as red as the candles we've burned
as red as the blood from my finger
as you drew it across your lips
The color seemed to suit you