The Final Horizon

Moving towards the horizon,

I can hear the soft sounds,

Of tolling of a bell,

Ah is it for me,

They are ringing?

That no one knows,

Nor can anyone tell.

I move closer,

In my sojourn to the sea,

Towards that calm ocean of eternity,

I hear it’s now calling for me,

As I reach nearer the shore,

I leave behind all my memories,

Treasures and belongings for sure

My earthly and worldly possessions,

My future biological consumptions,

come with me to my secret world
inside the world of creation
where pansies laugh with the apples
of your cheeks and forget-me-nots
dwell

slowly, softly enter my dream
let the sun of sorrow hide where shadow worlds
meet your horizon and the window of your
reflection thaws the ice that was;
bring to me an overflowing bouquet:
your sighs
and the moments your breath was stolen--
the human child awakening, saturated with
night, the light of gold flowering in your hair,
pale blue as the
summer sky,

The perfect place for me to start
To splash, to kick, to learn
Oh I'm so glad, much fun we had
The journey has just begun

Dipping in the pool was stimulating
Although unsure of getting wet
However, an exhilarating experience
One, I won’t easily forget.

Those helpful hints, without reserve,
Our stanzas improved flow,
Though Eddie wants no special praise
Stand up and take a bow !!

Worked as a group
Each helping the other,
one cohesive mind.
Equality ruled.

Down there
deep formed darkness
breathes intricate
with pain of
suffering existance

long distilled by fractal nightmares
under piss-stained bridges rising
over yawns of chasm buildings
once alive

now chained by grime
to decades poverty
and unmeasured nights hungered
by avarice misery unleashed
as hollow commerce

an age so long ago
the ice-caps linger
shuddered from their time
in empty realities
bright with anguish

Real

The ecstasy
is what I think
will last inside
of me
but it is a moment
moving like
quick silver on hands
of short lived
time

Wasting it
is my Guilt
each moments pleasure
belongs to it only
to try and hold it
is like surviving
on a glass of air
and a wind pie

That hunger
is awaiting the next
moment
I live for each one
drawing on every pleasure
it provides
asking for nothing
just being
a part of its unmeasured
evolution

funny, how fedoras look
out of place today
incongruous
anachronistic
on the wrong face

There came a lurch within my chest
when you put my car in gear
and eased us out from our driveway,
not because I feared your lack
of skill behind the wheel,

but because I looked at you
as you stopped us on the edge
of busy street and watched you
look, turn and accelerate
with the confidence that only comes
from being comfortable inside
one's skin,

It’s Tuesday and I gotta mount that colt.
The groundwork’s not gone well~ he tends to bolt.
But I been paid and gotta get it done.
We need no more than walk…don’t wanna run.
He’s cinched up slow as always. That’s our way.
The greenhorns think he only wants to play.
They point with greenhorn fingers while they laugh
when flips his damn, fool head like some giraffe.
But somehow we get bridled ere it’s noon.
I think he’s only gazin’ at the moon
and settin’ up to take a careful aim.

In the long meadow
a fair maiden gazed
longingly, as she strolled
through the long grass.
With finger tips caressing
the petals of silk

She seemed to float
through the long meadow.
Why is she there?
Was it for her lover?
A secret tryst!

To be with her knight,
who rides on a
charger white.
A stallion strong.

The lady in green
looking so serene.
A day for day dreams,
her heart gives a flutter.

rain rivers
black and curving
held by papers
old

fragments of
yesterday is swimming
against the naked curb
bright green grass
will take the tales
drink it in
like a thin sin

there are carnations
behind the glass
and sharp thorn
beauty
waiting

the water will fill
the vases
and fine print
distortions will
etch the clause

chimes are ringing
in the breeze
like phantom
spirits that dwell
making light their
songs to sell