budding’s cry

journey to the innocence
of a budding’s tired cry
music to the ear
that softly forgets
what fate it has set forth
what death will take
because he has more heart
than that which moves to see
what pleasure more, stays now distracted

upon those who gaze
on all that is yet to be known
clouding what is known
and does not live
in our lives
if not named

let me live my life as a leaf

let me live my life as a leaf.
let me lift and leave as they do.
they beg not to let go of limb…
but they go nevertheless, their greeness outgrown.
their brightness only crumbling to rustling brown bits
as i watch whether trampler will rake them back to me…
they do not stay as i do.
i alone cannot bear for each of them to go.
leaving me so bare and barren once more.
let eternal winter slay me through once.
lashes no more, no one hears my white muffled cries.
crack me in two and be done with your icy touch.
let not Spring come again with her adornments,
they mean nothing to me no more.
Sultry Summer with her,
blush of petit sweet offerings.
my bitterness ever taints them…
carressing eyes yet shriveling tongues.
etch not your beloveds upon me…
i promise your parting,
under my very boughs.

cherried

Note: I wrote this years ago…I want to change it, but I don’t know what exactly I want to change, so I have left it as it is, and perhaps my muse will relent…

 

she sat clumsily against the grimy brick wall
staring straight ahead to avoid my sharp glance
her hair lay greasy and plastered to her face
dark and congealed like tarrish glue
lazily her hand lay open to catch the piercing needles from above
sighing i sat aside her
defiant to remain as wordless as she
to stay still as icyness wetted my clothes
even as the torrent of freezy drops
snaked down my goose-pimpled neck
she lay her head calmly upon numb shoulder
and slid heavily into sitter’s lap
upon her flustered face
stared two crimson-stained eyes
cheeks a blush
lips parted in scarlet
hued tears had lay upon eyelashes
and run rivulets upon her rosy-pale face
cherried were her hands
all sticky with sweet iron scent
she lay there refusing to utter a word more
almost but never….no never her…almost less a little of life
she lay in my drizzle laden arms
drenched in rain and red…

i miss the light

i see too much…

too sharply, strongly

too vividly, viciously

 

i miss the light…

not chemical, not electrical

not that cruel piercing imperfection revealing lit object.

why not some dimness…?

 

some  smoothness…

some dark to wrap around softly but not at all lessen…

some thing hidden…

some thing saved…

some thing for one to know and one to find out…

 

let the light be created,

 

let it slowly fade the light-maker

 

let it lick, slide, drip, drop, fall, fly and burn…

 

let it leave a trace as all living things do…

 

let it spark, grow, flame, flicker, falter…

 

let it live and as all, let it leave.

tarnished

Is it Age which has tarnished this man?

loosened his tongue?
lessened his morals?
degraded his respect?
diminished his kindness?

Has wear and tear and time done its deed?

No….only that irrepressible bitterness of life
and its thorny, barren path.

Do i hate this one now?

No, not hate…after all that has gone by…

struggled and survived.

No, not hate…no, not a lot…just a little.

Ungratefulness is a nettle-laden venom
inflaming all those who are no less weaker than you.

see how selfish one is to remember:

only his errors, his faults

his stumblings-grumblings-bumblings

his wandering and oft lost thoughts…

see how my finger points…how my words sting,

even when inside i am only hurt because
i let the finger point and the words sting…

what a waste

what a waste
disgrace embraced

touched the top
wary of the rock bottom
yet here i lie in limbo…
…slowly dying within

suffocation always reveals the coward in you
instead of giving in
you run full circle
back to the miserable beginning

contemplate release
relish in its reason

its                            space

its

     breeze

contemplate inaction
as you wade shamefully
through
defeated
fate

Hell awaits yet another of your stumbling blind journeys.

pink

leaves,berries,mud,sticks,pebbles,snails,bugs,pink

-what’s that?

-pink.

-let’s go look.

-no.

-ohh it’s a baby bird.

-oh no.

-see how it’s big purple veins, closed eyes, sticky skin, no feathers yet.

-hmmm.

-see how it’s bones stick out, its neck is bent, it must have fallen

-ewww. flies.

-you know you could…

-no.

-come on. it’s dead.

-no.

-it’s a secret.

-no.

-you’re saving it.

-no.

-it’s so small. it won’t matter.

-no.

-come on i’d do it….come on just hurry.

-no.

-i won’t be your friend!

-so?

-alright alright i’ll do it.

-no.

-fine then let’s just go!

-no.

-no?

-no.

-no.

crunch