From somewhere the question comes:
how so?
There's ink in my saliva.
I'm scratching the surface
of the moon with a poem rising.
Do not mourn for me, never yet born,
don't you hear my silence out there
in the stardust, expanding infinity?

I am only a figment of your imagination,
locked inside
your living perception, isolated by needy words.
You'll never know the real me, unless you know
the real you, waves that touch the sun
must first unclench
their grasp of sea.

Ache dulls my heart,
my sensations.
With air I inhale
blood's adoration
all around
I could only see limbs
and tossed cut- heads.
No sound of birds' chirps
None, but of bullets'
Then when I come
to rejoice the petals
of the red rose,
to my disgust
They bleed.

Cradled in innocent fairy tales
Misery makes impressions on her audience
Ever since ancient times it crowds the stages

Every dream broken like the hopes of yesterday
Victory seems sweet, when surrounded by defeat
No white flags when your enemy is within
Failure’s voice seems so paternal
Until you realize passion’s gift is eternal

Growing sick of this realm , so we build our own
No kings to serve only the appetite of a soul
The snakes of corruption grow in number
As the priests of honesty cower away silently

If i sit upon this magic carpet
to explore worlds untamed
and travel far into dimensions
to be bewildered by the unthinkable
would i long for
the days spent idle
in my wooden cradle
when existence was the drive
to open eyes and strive
to be another bought into humanity
guided by warmth and love and sanity
of the ones that adored me in all profanity
And as time wastes into days
my bones will ache and laze
as my flesh is sure to deteriorate
to give it back from whence it came

the distant cry
from within
desire to sweep the past
with sunrise’s fast arrival...
to
let the time’s tolls be due
let flowers reek, perfume somehow
red, crimson and blue
wipe the sweat of my brow
forget the loathe-some
of a long distant occurrence
with demise of thoughts of desperate dreams
manifestations
of things gone astray

Thinking
of the wonder
of perfection
a lush green breeze on a bright
summer-like day...

You and I don't need to punctuate
the silence with words that can not
add anything to this art of being alive
to be
and to know what already is

THE WARS [APOCALYPSE]

And across the fields
we began to run
each and every one
The enemy was close behind.

Suddenly
a bullet struck my spine
and I fell paralyzed
deep and hard
into the morning mist.

Those still alive
fled
to the other side.

I lay days in the gray
of the dying and dead.
until I could rise
once again
in fear and dread
for there was not where
I would end.

I had a dream… after a long laboring day
Of rose petals falling as rain

Bloody red petals… falling softly at my feet
Filling the entire world with its fragrance so sweet

…Turning my vision crimson

Then the sun opened up its door
And from it marched angels making ready to soar

The clouds rolled open like an ancient scroll
Revealing verses written in ink of gold

Hearts were laid up on a pedestal
Mouths sang songs, celestial

In my ear rang a line of that golden verse
A line my heart was quick to rehearse

drape a moment
cross this idling chest
I feel your tingle
you lick the tinge from
a curled lip
hiss
"Kiss my bullets baby"

I'll be your pocket of sorrow
if you'd hang your heart
from this worn sleeve

but you're a fortress
full of ghosts that greive

Too many graves, too many fields
filled with human failure's yields.
All those crosses in neat rows
where the dark green grass now grows.

Call them soldiers, call them men
each of them was someone's kin.
All were pawns in someone's game,
each death different yet the same.

They fought for politicians' ends
yet died on the behalf of friends,
meeting their fates in lands turned bloody,
giving all for their best buddy.