The stemmed glass slowly rotates
Held up to the sun
Its contents swirl in easy motion

Carmines plum and ruby
Subtle rainbows tease
My imagination already
Tantalized by too much wine.

How many times
Have momentous thoughts
Random as these
As blurred of focus
Been so confidently
Brought to life

While looking through a
Glass of half gone
Bordeaux

Too many
I'll wager
Too many

You are the scarecrow
that watches over the barren fields
That land
that feeds her children with thorns ;

a keeper of ducks
that never return home

You are the breath
that the old sun despises
She slaps you
With a tyrannical stare
of fate

You are the pica
that the terrestrial vulture
craves for
with a cunning tongue
at dawn

You are whom
antediluvian's bewitched face
dance to
with cheetah's feet

Late into the year,
the excitement of the new
has long faded.

The heat of the day
grows at the slightest
irritation.

Smiles are plastic
and last a little longer.

Idiosyncrasies play
like a broken record,
repeating ad nauseum
to your heightened tension.

Then fun begins to hurt
from the saturation of the heart
and the closet misanthrope begins
to play.

DO NOT DISTURB

It has become a quiet
world
not much spoken
little heard
and I forbear the day
with the silence terror brings,

I am a puppet on a broken string
an incongruous human machine.
I’ve lost control.
I’ve lost my hold
on pride and dignity
and it seems to me
I’ve lost myself
in my own insanity

Useless are the words
the Mind seeks
Painful are the words
the Soul speaks.
Never to be heard
are the whisperings
that silence brings.

A wistful still, 
no wind, 
no song of bird, 
nothing stirs. 

The world seems half asleep, 
no weeping willows here,
just birches, firs and hornbeams 
beaming at the spring to come, 
each of them in their row, 
where thrushes gather in the fall 
to gorge on berries one and all.

It's evening, the time of rest,
when silently the night,
gathers in the light,
spreads an indigo instead.

thou dwellest with -in

ma heart

like dwellest

twas yesterday

and

thy love cometh

like a fountain

burstin all the way...

twill be a living life,

when twill be a game of friendship ...

hasn’t ever struck you

that we or twill be one poet...

like none as tomorrow comes

and

this day dieth

was that not anointed yet say

some shalt

some day

Shakespeare

and

Loved

lived like none else

on the ma earth

till dis day

so be it today

The words no longer held at bay
now escaping from our thoughts
to form upon our lips
to spill forth but

Still not ready to use the word "dying"
Use kinder words that skirt the unspeakable
Death now again approaches our door
It is not welcome, We are not ready

Does the bastard have to be so cruel
Strips one of his dignity, enters with pain and fear
and utter embarrassment
Forced to keep others out, knowing they will see

An overdose of pills,
of heartache
and a nap
on the shrink's arm chair.

There's too much
to focus on;
so little time
to think on it.

It's like
an Olympic dash,
but the track extends
to the far future.

And I hear it doesn't end.

When there are no storms
to draw one's fancy,
one looks within,
at the hurricane;
in the mirror
a gorgon stares back blankly.

This is not a masquerade,
this is life.

Black hair parted to an edged obsessive glow
Gothic arch framing an alabaster face
mirrors her vulva captured in tight black pants
Sharp lines
severe
Tight breasts shark edged
Dog collar, Studded
Black, pervasive
Eyes, lips, nails
Standing, legs crossed.
Body shouting a defiant slouch.
A small woman on guard against an intrusive world.
eyes turned out in arresting poise
Waiting...

I watch you as you watch me
Your glaring eyes sink into my screen
And I'm all you see
All around you
Becomes invisible
Once i'm turned on
I've seen you laugh
many times
and cry on occasion
but usually you just stare
Motionless
Filling your head with my filth
I do have some worthwhile
things to offer
You just have to search
Dig Deeper
Hunt
And you may learn something
or expand your horizons
or even be inspired
Just don't stay too long