Said Raven to the Wolf
as he passed under
the old Acacia tree.
Did you think
you could escape me?

Wolf looked up
through blood stained eyes
gnashed his teeth and growled.
Foolish bird
tell me what it is
you think you know.

Raven grinned
and continued his rant.
I am the mirrored reflection
of your tortured soul.
I am what you wish you were
but can never be.

Motley, furry,
sprawled across my bed.
Ten black eyes rise up
and stare inside my head.
Eighty razor claws,
five gaping jaws.
A heat seeking,
flesh eating
monster of chaos?
Yes,
kittens.

Unimaginable suffering
Felt by the crew and passengers
Of Boeing 777....

So much trauma, tragedy
Planes falling from the sky
Bombs bursting everywhere ....

Tears on faces
Blushing tracks still mourning
Fatality of loved ones ....

Terrorism, tragic events,
Natural disasters
Takes a toll on individuals ..,.

Living in these last days
Critical, hard to deal with
2 Timothy 3:1-4 ....

Out of the midwest he came, like a moth to the flame,
And like rains on the plain, his Citizen Kane,
Flushed the old down the drain, starting a new strain,
Etching his name in Hollywood’s fame.
And they adored him; they’d reward him,
But often times bored him
When setting their sails on rickety rails,
Or casting spells, or spinning tales
Of all’s well that Orson Welles.

I sincerely want
to remember you,

but every time I try,
I get only void,

then all my memories
are left
frameless.

pennys fallen through the floor
like ghosts that slip like whispers
through the doors

storms of soot beneath
thoughts that climb
and linger

the score
keeps
unwinding

the stair case
minding
shadows
and sharp
eccentric gleams

like electric loans
flourescent scenes
rust and ashs
in a tray

your voice still
echoes
and off the history
of parting stays

a lullabye
of sobs come
nightfall

Bonne nuit ma petite alouette.
Tu me manques.
Lorsque la lune est morte
Tu voleras encore.

Hiding in the shadows
creeping through the dark,
meeting in the moonlight
far away from human's mark.

The world further opposed
heartless towards our love.
The forest, a silent promise,
a closet, for emotions inside.

The wind mirrors each kiss.
As each chill embraces our skin,
the fever ignites within.

Moonlit glances of love,
lips soft to each touch.
Night guides love-ridden hands
she understands.

Oh, nice to meet you
Sweet Sandy
Heard you would be passing through

More like running, if you ask me
Quite rude of you
To take my electricity

By the way why do they call you sweet
It must be fear
You really must tire your feet

you leave trouble every town you’re in
my poor trees got nauseous
said it felt like the room is about to spin

By the way how’s it like causing disaster
Believe me you don’t need to run
When it comes to speed you are a master

What if every now and then
within the stream of time
a temporary eddy formed
and a few temporal gallons
flowed back?

But for just a very few
people and/or years
what if one of them were me
or....you
what could I do?

I guess I could warn Kennedy(s)
John Lennon, maybe King
But why would they listen to ME
a single ordinary man?

Maybe I could find my younger self
in nineteen seventy three
and even prove that I am he
perhaps the young I would heed me