Scraps

Frayed lives
heaped upon a quilt of tattered memories,
threads of self slowly unraveling
the stitches of sanity, no one cares to darn.

Loving hands reach for the fragments
making patchwork hearts
mended with tender care,
hugs and kisses
always mercy's perfect needle and thread.

Midnight’s Dawn

Night burned
with a lunar embryo,
it screamed into my darkness,
then eclipsed the sun
as a silhouetted shroud,
draped over any illumination.

But in the blackness
I at last stopped closing my eyes
then allowed them to absorb its silk
and finally saw a dawn
amid eve’s ebony textures.

Symphonies Of The Air

Cerulean sky serenades with serenity’s soothing notes,
subtly the spirit ascends upon those airy tones in peaceful allure,
as feathers in melodious light ever lifting one’s soul,
above any earthbound thoughts dreamt or desired within,
where day becomes a dulcet, visual resonance of scenic symphony,
utterly musically entrancing by blends of azure with inner hums
because they hold those colorful caresses so felt among the clouds
when orbs in the mind are gazing outward ever upward
at the canopy above and embrace its spell with completeness
so there sings inside all the beauty of heavenly harmony.

Light Dance

Frail fancy's clustered chutes,
mind stem blossoming mythic miasmas,
await a zephyr surging wishful wisp
to unfurl as floating pearled ponderings
carrying inner flame
through unveiling revelatory prisms.

Eyes cling
in acquiesced acceptance
along epiphany's airy serpentine swirls
wrapping Elysium flashes
around one's essence.

Fleeting insight's gossamer tendons ride
each tender parachuting fray
of incandescent waking droplet.

Feeling clothed in the surreal textures
ferrying the soul to a panoply of paradise horizons
whispered by the breath of time.

The Edge

If only the veil of darkness
didn’t cling to her heart
and summon the creatures of night
who prowled in her brain
like vampires and ghouls
ate her dreams and consumed her spirit.

But it was too late now
to leave the fray in her sanity
find a place she could hide
from the terror of hellish memories,
which were eating her insides.

There was time when life
was not a grave for her hopes
other than a cemetery in reflections
where love was a rotting corpse.

That was before the demon
claimed her youth
held her a chamber of torment
until her wings were clipped.

She still holds onto that one image
of the spring she once knew
a season without tears
or the screams that scarred.

Somewhere in all the cruel
attacks of madness
apart of her still sees
the leaves of her worth
continuing to hang on tomorrow’s tree,
as long as one remains other than wither
then she’ll keep waiting
for summer’s blossoms from her suffering.

Sky Writing

Translucent ribbon arches the stormy sky,
heart paints its own hues within,
wishing well whims clutch at clouds,
buried treasure dreams dry between drops,
but magic still flutters behind eyelids.

Fading air prism lingers in kisses,
caressing the brain with hope's incense
perhaps truth is not always cruel
when we see more than colors
in a rainbow.

They Never Mentioned This Back In The Hen House

We thought we had it made,

no chicks inside to ruin our lives,

just sitting in that nice comfy carton

thinking the good life

was out there for us.

 

Sure was nice and cool in that ice box,

man thought this was a sign

of how good luck

had come our way.

 

Then that lady with a friendly face

woke us from a nap to put us in a cart,

thought it was something great.

 

Now this agony awaits

makes us watch this cruel fate

heard rumors about some one

called Humpty Dumpty

by the kids on the farm

who knew they meant us

and our shells would come to this end?

Twer Pure Genius

Oh Mickey is the smart one in the family

always thinking up some new fangled thingamajig

or doohickey to be the best dang thing you could have.

 

Sort of reckoned when farming got tough

on account of that earthworm farm just ain’t workin

that he would come up with some humdinger of an idea

to make it all better and save the family homestead.

 

Man was he so excited when he called me on the phone

came up with this thing called meals on wheels,

heard about it from Cousin Clem

over in that thar rest home place

even though he never seems to get much rest there,

but they bring these fiddles in some box,

not sure there were any wheels inside.

 

Anywho Mickey done invited me to what he called a grand opening

only from what I saw there were so many dang holes in that trailer

couldn’t tell which one was suppose to be grand.

Had us all climb inside while he hooked up his truck

in order to take it into town and serve that grub to one and all.

 

Sure wish he had not left all manure in the back of his pick up

cus he sure done brung tears to our eyes from being behind that load

not to mention how it done drew so many flies too.

 

Yep, glad he unhooked his truck when we got to town,

seeing how people just don’t get all that hungry

when the place reeks of manure.

 

Might have been good I reckon

had Mickey done more thinking about the food too,

now possum innards and stump hole stew are all fine to me,

too bad them folk who came by

just didn’t warm up to the idea.

 

Must have been that sterno he was using,

for it sure can work powerful at messing up the appetite

at least that is what we figured

after a couple of people kind of upchucked

once he handed them a dinner

in that rusty ole can.

 

But Mickey is so heck fire smart

bet he’ll get the next batch down right,

providing them revenuers don’t make us fuss

about his secret sauce that smells like moonshine.

Arches

In the hollows of that ancestral corridor there is a nostalgic glow,

natural flares in that forebear's bond seal the heart unto their soul,

life of the innocent feel that connection to the past slowly grow,

ever ascending in appreciation for the inheritance it does extol,

reaching inward to hold the timeless tradition pearls that it shall bestow,

giving the spirit over to the sway from the winds of past as control.

 

Flames of lore give their light as legacy that shines with the mind,

slowly burning as illumination’s torch revealing the identity candle inside,

yielding to the spell of family ghosts whose so can make values quickly realigned,

gladly listening to those legends they summon from where they use to hide,

yearning evermore for the recreation of the purpose cherished and now redesigned,

grateful at last for how amid the arched stones life’s meaning is filled with pride.

 

It is the stroll through the antechambers of those blood forged foundations,

that summons such zeal and fervor from the communion with heritage’s affirmations.

Where time stands still

Mountain forest far above

possessing a hidden valley's fern rich glen.

No eyes are there observing

how the sun seems suspended

for hours in the same spot.

 

Mortal feet have never touched its pristine pastures.

unaware how pixies congregate there.

Sprinkling their magic's dust underneath each leaf

dancing at night in glowing circles

around an enchanted tree.

where fairies give the night air

a mystical song

casting a spell upon the forest limbs

swaying so obediently with lilting sounds of flute and harps.

 

Goddess guardian of this timeless glen

sails each eve across the starry sky,

searching for souls she can touch

carrying them on a silvery thought

to spend a few precious heartbeats

among the charmed scenery,

returning before dawn to their beds.

 

Rising in the morn

heart feels incredibly renewed

as if the night had no time

and life had truly stood still.

Blades

It isn’t the field where you fall,

along that trail turning left unexpectedly

where you assumed would end at a mansion,

which covers your mind

and consumes your attention,

utterly screaming so deep into your senses

so it totally dominates each thought.

 

Instead it is the blades that brush against your leg,

poke through the fabric and give it reality

that transforms the long fail trek towards an oasis

into a pit stop at the profound.

 

Words spoke while walking,

those assumptions of the sight,

suddenly lose their meaning,

no longer are they gems waiting to be found.

 

For that meadow met in its raw earthy essence

in life’s genuine heartland

has its own splendor and fascination,

provided you take time

to truly embrace the scenery,

feel its wealth with all its textures

rather than bemoan

how it isn’t heaven.

 

What lies before the feet

are the detours to truths without costumes

carefully and intensely touch

as either a the dwelling place embraced

filled with what can honesty be,

or just keep on telling yourself

somewhere will come that is greener.

 

Daylight

Zeitgeist utopian dreams

she wove through her lace of thought.

Rhapsody of breath

awakening in her soul

with every dawn.

Nobody ever died from a smile,

nor while inhaling the scent of violet.

 

Yet feeling it all vanity,

a blissful dungeon

devoid of an authentic lucidity

just a soothing chiffon illusion

with no chance for sailing

beyond the deception

and find the place where paradise thrived.

 

Having seen it in a dream,

about of a world with cerise twin-moons,

set in a salmon sky,

covered in plains of emerald sands.

RINDS

Oh savage vixen

that lurks

in the hollows

of my life.

You tease

my soul

with the illusions

about

what fruit

might thrive

from the sweat seeds

I plant in the soil

rich in presumed

possibility nutrients

Alas

when the harvest comes

it too often

only yields rinds

instead of sustenance

for my moods and hope.

Destination

Each step I took

brought a tear,

the sky always leaden

and threatening.

 

Hope's wind

never touched my life,

leaving my heart

strangled

in the beguiling shadows

of loneliness.

 

Until I came

upon your face,

seeing in your merciful eyes

a sanctuary ending my travail,

where love became

my destination.

 

The Sound Of One

Truly hearing the beat inside

amid the thunder and chaos cymbals

is to know what is in your heart

be so sure and clear

about its throbbing timbre,

so aware of what makes it pound

and what causes it pain.

 

Then be able to stroll anywhere,

alone even it the middle of a throng,

but feel at peace within

because you have found

with complete harmony

of mind and heart.

 

It is the sound of one

a tone of truth

from one’s inner composer

that you consume

to accept as your melody

until you let it dominate

with its soothing serenade,

never willing to stop adding new notes

anywhere you can find them

for their make life a symphony,

pure, complete and fascinating.

The Expert

His resume read like a dream about some god,

he had two doctorate degrees

and could speak several languages,

supposedly he was so gifted and brilliant

that he could solve any complex problems

with just one quick glance at the evidence,

one word from his lips enough

to completely cure any crisis.

 

Our hearts swelled with hope

over how this genius with such credentials

could stroll into our company

truly appear so incredible with the sunlight behind him

like some divine crusader meant to deliver us,

just got so excited and riveted with adrenaline

from the idea of our misery mishaps

finally coming to an end.

 

The day arrived with such electricity in the air

soon any stress would evaporate

amid his masterful guidance

over our suffering and sadness.

 

But our joy quickly died

when Mr. Super Brain Perfection

came into the room.

 

He walking over to the light switch

squinted and asked, “does this turn the lights on?”

That was the highlight of his visit

things really went down hill from there,

when he asked if the stapler came with instructions

it was time for him to leave.

 

Perhaps he had better days ahead

only they weren’t going to be with us,

if we wanted moronic Einsteins

there were plenty in our office already.

Ambience

Amid the terraces in thought

wandered in idle rote response,

where rarely they sky unfurls serenity’s scroll

and time is reluctantly spent

in the steady pace of stress stained senses,

who repeatedly the mind seeks

the billowy ambience of peace

to regularly glide on a soar so readily

charmed by the wisps of tranquility

quietly able to close eyes

and see that airy realm so restfully alluring.

 

It is the sanguine vision in bliss,

the regularly embraced flight

above the land so reproachfully burden,

a precious petition exhaled as a whimsy’s wish

for a time sublime in soft, soothing

caresses of spellbound rhyme,

enriched in the lofty reality

that is righteously layered in noble ideals,

which so rightfully are imagines

as the perils of humanity

so craved as what is wanted to be felt

among the paths that are followed.

 

And for a breath in release

whatever rudely ruins the silence

fades in its clamor

while wings of the mind

float beyond each chaotic clash.

Fruit

I can learn the lessons of sowing,

the skills to till the soil,

see the fields rise in the furrows

from the toil my fingers have taken.

 

But it is a fleeting form of vanity

just a harvest of the ego,

should the fruit not truly ripen

within my soul as in the sun.

 

For unless I’ve truly tasted

what is reaped from my labors,

let the Lord use it to touch and transform

what lies inside,

then it is just another season

where the crops never rise in my heart.

 

By prayer and diligence the inner growth comes,

fueled by the Holy Spirit’s showers

to cleanse and renewal what is tainted.

 

Because there is no greater joy

than the one, which comes as blessings

where the Lord has slowly planted

His seeds of gift into our lives,

and we have the song of praise

arise from such thanksgiving

since this years bounty

is truly more enriching than the last.

 

How happy is the time

when we can see and feel

those weeds that choked our day

wither by God’s power,

no matter if the sky is gray

or the scenery some times harsh.

A Little More Salt

A little more salt

and perhaps they won’t notice

those bugs in the batter,

which I missed when adding flour.

Or the rodent droppings

that fell into the bowl

when I pulled the box of baking soda

off the shelf.

 

There was a time I would have worried,

utterly felt the torment from shame

if any disease laden tidbit of vile confection

ended up in my servings.

 

But that was before,

the divorce and whiskey mistress,

my nights alone screaming in the darkness.

Afterwards holding the meat clever

and looking at people walking down the street

then letting that butcher in my head

imagine hacking them to death.

 

I shake at times from the suppressed rage,

avoid the temptation to add some rat poison

to whatever I am preparing,

tonight I didn’t succumb to that urge,

how much longer I can stand on this edge

until the madness possesses

is a question I hide from in a bottle.

 

Maybe tomorrow my brain will lose control,

for now I cling to that frayed thread of sanity

just hoping when I let go

it will be at home and not at work.

 

The wash of time

The flow across the stones

is like a wash of time

across my mind.

It baptizes with reminders

of the ever changes moments

how life itself is the water

moving constantly.

 

Bathing in its gurgling sound

as if voices of angels were calling

to drink of God's love from its rush,

knowing it is nature's tears

from his mercy, which never ends.

 

Letting move from fount to vein

when insides are drenched

through its calming touch.

 

At last refreshed

from feeling immersed

in such simple song for the soul,

I becoming one with the waters of life

within my heart

willing to pour them out

in cascading rushes over other lives

who also are in need its soothing feel.

All Around The Hive

Those busy little bees

who are weaving their tongue honey

so happily running around

while making sure

they collect that gossip pollen.

 

Oh it is such great fertilizer

a bunch of crap that keeps growing

until before you know it

there’s one big gooey honeycomb

of those sweet, juicy tales

just waiting to be eaten.

 

Don’t even have to find

any customers to sell

that wonderful make up syrup

since so many love the taste

and can’t wait to get another

wonderful mouthful.

 

Pain Be Gone

image from:

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Are you tired of life’s friction

always flowing such stress like a faucet?

Want a way to help make things easier

and let your feet have a feeling

of being able to stroll upon the clouds?

 

At EnchantedSolutions.com

we have the cyber sorcery

to make your every need and wish come true.

 

Our legends of fairies

can let your finger type its keyboard dream

that will turn any swamp of melancholy

into a golden charmed field

where any frog can become a prince

as the magic flows in such incredible ways

so you can know the favorable vibrant fruit

from fancy’s bountiful orchard.

 

We can take that fiction you wish were true,

make it a realty by one wave of our wands,

it will give fire to your dream kindling

let you know the fabulous flush in fortune’s flash

with fate at last your friend.

 

All your hopes are just a login in away,

since our blessed pixie operators

wait to take your requests

You can tell our success

by how well our beauty spells

have worked on them.

Nuthin, But Bliss

 

Oh my baby is so great and truly fine

even if she’s bigger than Frankenstein,

because treats me so very kind,

totally happy and utterly sublime.

 

We never have to worry door-to-door solicitors

since she’ll be sure to beat up any sale’s visitors,

it’s so easy when she treats them like her circus act,

the one where she rips off doors from an auto compact.

 

Oh I have learned how to actually adore and love

my sweet giant of a so very sensitive turtle dove,

or if I don’t she’ll crumple me up like an old glove,

which for her amounts to only one big shove.

 

Course pleasing her at times is not that easy

have to get creative and even a tad sleazy,

got to act so crazy and a bit extra silly or cheesy

otherwise she’ll sit on me and make me so queasy.

 

But for me there is just no other gal that will really do

besides just talking to them will end up making me blue,

plus if she finds out then their life will be totally through

for she’ll quickly make them something on which to chew!

Bunny’s Night Out

The Easter Bunny has to sneak away

from all those chocolate eggs and plastic grass,

needs to satisfy that special appetite

for something truly soft and sweet.

 

Not easy when you are that famous rabbit

to find a place you can play

where nobody goes to bug you for candy

or ask to have you show them

your private nest.

 

So he goes as Peter Cottontail Smith

over to the enchanted peep pole bar

to kick back some happy juice

watch that act that gets him so excited.

 

Hey when you’re a creature

totally well known,

yet not a dime to your name

because you only work part of they year

at giving things away

then getting lucky is mainly fantasy

and you have to do it

at some place behind a pet shop

where only elves and fairies get to go

after all you do have a public image

that needs to be protected.

Peace

Slow soft sayings soothing stroking

like a snake the tongue slithering over the mind,

peace spoken with passionate phrases,

swiftly soaking into the spirit with their spell.

 

Walls of restraint melt away from

that steady flood in seductive suggestions,

it washes away the lines of black and white,

guns clutched in hands quickly find enemies

though they are disarmed and harmless.

 

Stretches of barbwire enclosed those incarcerated

while any air of morality turns to vapors

as the innocence are slain in brutal and sadistic means,

hell comes to those trapped

their keepers committing atrocities

they once would have never conceived,

unleashed is the demon inside

where a saint once had thrive

all under the sway of the vow, “Seig heil.”

 

In the aftermath of defeat

when sanity came amid the forced demise

lips that had given into the evil

only could utter, “I was just following orders”

as the response to the loss of conscience.

SUCCESS

Success

is a drawer

of a dresser

in somebody else’s

castle.

They open it

when they are in the mood

and decide

that your cherished

keepsakes of your soul’s

linen

becomes worthy of display or use.

But at times

a cruel wind of circumstance

can close all the doors

and windows.

One must wait

for fate’s hand

to inspire

another viewing.

 

Outside my mind

Forest glen forges a face

into my head.

Scents resurge this longing appeal,

I am drunk upon the wine of wandering

feeling the narcotic bliss

race my veins to a new high.

 

Lifted beyond my beats of distraction

floating over a river of rushing coolant,

soothing the void,

filling the meadow

where my own haven

is wrapped as a blanket

that I sleep in on night's of scars,

stop sign from the chatter of dependents,

brings me back

from beyond the dull,

boredom revives

doing for the sake of being

covers my chest of fancy.

 

Once again

my ticket is cancelled

to the amusement paradise

where I never have to grow up

outside my mind.

Keyboards

Lessons learned from watching parents

of lullabies, hymns, carols and love songs.

Played with passions as felt when listening

while trying to rehearse life’s solo

and find the notes that ring as self

among the many compositions created.

 

But the fingers still touch those old keys

where so many others played before

with the hardest part of practicing

is appreciation the artistry of the instrument.

 

For now matter how skillful is the mastery used,

regardless of the talent possessed

unless a joy comes from embracing that reality

about how without the musical device

nothing ever truly expresses the song of the soul

or the melody of the heart.

 

It is so easy to think of the harmony we share

while forgetting the means needed

in order for it to have sound,

because they all come from heaven’s music store

as a loan before taking harp instructions.

 

Switches

 

Faces fastidiously formed to fit any occasion

in the basement where repairs are made

unto the mistakes that happened far too often.

 

Just a flip of the switch in the head

so it turns on a different light to reveal another image

of the role crafted to wear for others,

with the tools used to make that persona

always stored in a box with fears.

 

Ever worried the power of dreams shall fail,

some surge in truth will short circuit the façade,

then the clown, wizard, fallen angel and warrior

may suddenly die in the blackout of lies,

simply stressed over the possible end

unto that charade played so often.

 

Still keeping the collection carefully preserved

even when some are torn and disfigured,

for existence is too harsh in the day at times

to risk being seen without that covering.

 

As long as those controls in the mind

allow the illusion to remain reality,

survival becomes a costume party

without a need for an invitation,

where you can be every guest

simply by changing profiles,

until you forget who you really are

and the scars hidden by the masks.

Call Waiting

You’ve reach the cadaverous crypt of the grim reaper

and your soul is on my list to be eternity’s keeper,

I sense you’re anxious to know the time of your demise,

but I prefer to keep that as a last second lethal surprise.

 

Now just keep enjoying life’s party as long as you can

because soon enough my visit to you shall be my plan,

so be sure you have taken time to fill out your final will

before I come along with my sickle to claim you spirit as bill.

 

If by chance you want to know when your mother–in-law

is going to have that last bashing chance at criticism’s hurrah,

perhaps I may be able to work out some detail arrangement

to give you some serenity before that fatality estrangement.

 

Just left a message on my black, morgue scented telephone

after you hear the sound of an eerie, death rattle moan,

though if by chance you detect the scent of embalming cologne

it means I’ve already visited and your body’s in a plot all alone.

Smooth Landings

Heart pounds a rhythmic raging serenade of adrenaline’s symphony

while ears embrace the constant chimes from above

and the eyes flutter because the radiant flashes of lights that dazzle

before watching those spreading silvery wings stir such whirlwind flows,

its time for pray that this divine manifestation will bring blessed deliverance,

lips utter their deepest soul felt petition of pure, perfect confession

then the plane Captain declares emergency is over, exhales fear as runway is seen.