neither black nor white
nature's red-headed step child
fight for Gray Rights now!

I’m not at all sure if the blue of the smoke
is a trick of my eye or what causes you choke.
Is the plume ringing upward as sad as I am?

This faggot knows nothing, not even it burns,
but you’re full aware it’s your life that it spurns.
It’s your flaming ember you’ve chosen to damn.

One day this fool habit will take all of you
and leave me here thinking that I made it blue.
All meaningless fault I shall lay at my feet.

floating on air
weightless thought
inhale to the tops of my lungs
i count the dragons in the sky
rain sparkling in sunlight
feel the magic gliding on my skin

a cloud's touch like fine silk
the fairies sing their lullaby
i drink the golden dew from the petals of wild flowers
fresh honey and blooming lilac
scents that remind me of home

laying in soft grass
reaching for the gentle blue sky
butterflies land on the tips of my fingers
this whimsical wonderland
far, far away

At last the tires stop their crunching.For I have now reached the final end of this long gravel road.
And the beginning of the journey's destination.
The engine dies and I step stiffly out
groaning at flexing old legs
and inhale cool air untainted by man.

foxholes
full of incessant prayers
what the hell does that prove?
ditches and trenches and bunkers
are filled with dead soldiers
who fought valiently for god and country

some survive
believing jesuspray saved them
which is tantamount to saying
"fuck the ones who died
they didn't pray correctly,
or hard enough,
or to the right god"

then onward they go
these self-rightous christian soldiers
testifying to their god's bountiful mercy and blessings

Autumn leaves
floating colours
winter creeps.

an ocean of a dream
swells in its ebb
the labrynth wells

your wings
your crown
your rule

loss in winter hues
the splinter waves
awash

transmission
touch to touch
location

the tender tome

The swarming crowd
teeming larger than life,
descends into your molecular life
with singular strife, a bugle and a fife.

Now, in the jungle of your bungle,
you bang your drum slowly with
all that is holy and still you can't
get that secular design out of your
prehistoric mind. You learn to walk
on your own two misanthropic feet,
though your knuckles bleed and you never
run out of things to say, this way and
that, at a drop of a hat in a magician's empty act.

you ask me!
you ask me just now
and shall write one for you,
as only love does ensue
from the crevices of my heart instantly
and
you can fathom the depth incessantly
at your own free will,
but all love you still,
for the love you give
and
hope you will continue
to read me still,
of course at your own free will.
I’m a naturally born poet,
and know no poetic nuances,
my words flow
out of sheer spontaneity
and
lovers like you
love to swallow
that’s all I know

Blue skies to turn white bones brittle
your steps lose erring spruice
deferring the reverberation of metal
that snake who offers the apple, now to a silent noose,
as if you had a choice, screaming
your wrasping voice quickly lost
grasping the loss of meaning
seamless endlessness is the cost.