he predicted it,
the way seismologists can
with tremors of the earth.
he predicted she would leave
and wouldn't excuse it
or write him words to weep with,
she would simply disappear
the same way she arrived

he will drink her away,
find some small corner,
sit and face remorse
in a smudged, dirty glass
and he won't stop
until the feeling dies

or he does

The sun lights the darkness,
The rain cleanses the earth,
As we too make the journey,
With death there is birth.
Bitter sweet memories,
Unfinished dreams,
Incomplete promises,
Life just seems cruel and mean.
It does not matter their age,
It is hard to let go,
Knowing as you hold their hand,
No longer does energy flow.
But somewhere out there they have a purpose,
In that we must trust,
They were needed elsewhere,
Not condemned to just dust.
Maybe a new angel,
Was needed in the sky,

i'd heard
it spoken
how he
hated stars
and frivolous
things

and lazy
sundays
old dogs
with
older men
who sat
in parks
smoking
talking with
young children,
imparted wisdom

he never
in his existence
conversed
with god,
with strangers,
with her

they said
if you met
he'd inspire you
and you would
cut out stars,
drag down
the moon
and live
in the suns shadow

there are times i wish
you weren't so literal.
when you didn't
become the coroner,
the forensic doctor
and slice into your flesh
and dig around for it

for the words, the poems,
the entrails of phrases
and make them seem
such a hopeless lot.
the type you would
sign off deaths,
with a definitive
'yeah this one
was never saveable'

.

.

CHOICE

At this psychological moment,

Some people have the wherewithall to become a good student
while others, are more inclined to excel as an instructor
but, I know someone who's of the mention for both!

The only disclaimer is that, from any given moment
she can "flip" on you.....with the stealth of a circus acrobat!

That does happen to be a part of her "magic", as it were;
for even she can't say whether, or not she's teaching, or learning;
so we never noticed, that she coerced us all into playing the remaining roles.

I sit in the sun
The warm loving sun
And yet curse its radiant rays
I hear the quiet chatter of the birds
But cover my ears in dismay
The palm fronds sway in the breeze
Brushing the painted sky
Yet i would quickly trade it all
To sate a longing sigh

I miss the green, the gray the blue
The mist that covered the ground
The rain, the blessed pouring rain
That made such a calming sound
The mountains that climbed into the sky
On my every side surround

Cunning
Coy
Barbaric
A hunter for emotions.
She searches with such fervor.
Deep Ression snakes around
enveloping all those not cloaked.
Her fangs greets many with acid
of sorrows.

She terrors the Grim Reaper from
whence he came.

Sweeping people after people
into the mighty slaying talons.
She is marbledhearted, leaving
not one apathetic Releasing is
not nigh.

First Strike

I am no more or no less

I am no more or no less
Than the laughter made from a smile between friends
I am no more or no less
Than my history, if my memories will not let me forget

As I become more I hope, I can become less subtracting form the memories of regret
I remember that each smile had no purpose beyond the purity of a friend ship
In this purity, I find the reminiscence that I am more than memories in any heart regrets