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Inevitability
01/20/03 |
We exist at the edge of insanity.
Why tempt a mouse to capture a lion?
Would you hand-feed the starving beast,
least that hand outgrew its' use?
Ink evaporates and renders a pen useless.
Lead from pencils can mold,
their mark is never final.
Does poison dissipate within the pen?
Dwarves will not sit among giants.
Coexistence is Lilliputian.
Would a giant smite an ant,
if the latter became aggressive?
Our world is defiantly illfated.
Time and progress does not
excuse the process of adaptability.
Self destruction is inevitable. |
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The Search
01/24/03 |
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I'm lost in a host of reflections,
surrounded by shadows of myself.
Those echoes return to concrete visions,
hidden behind walls of fear.
Does tomorrow not know, what was
should be buried with yesterday?
Is it madness that seeks this pain
pulsing it's song of futility?
I seek a lasting respite, hidden deep,
but seemingly out of reach.
Will silence avert my satiability
or will lunacy reign supreme?
Barriers may tumble with discovery.
I must never abandon this quest.
To admit defeat would be as
to believe I have never existed.
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Wayward
02/01/03 |
You fancied the raven's madness
And held his darkness to your soul
Stepping on shards of clay
As the nightwinds beckoned hither
Wailing banshees gather at your feet
In pools of swirling shadows
Nights presence whets evils thirst
As they dance to your favor
Sanctity curses your name
And calls you damnable
Those who can not see fear
What lays beyond the mask
Oh! but cowards fawn
When asked to give testimony
They have tasted pure water
And the wine has become bitter
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Enclosed
02/06/03
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Confined into an imagined space,
no doorway to pass through.
Each corner sealed keeps me in,
a non-extended view.
Once, sunlight touched on every side,
to warm my ashen face.
Is there not a kindly soul,
to free me from this place?
With covered hands I know these walls,
I've traced them up and down.
There has to be someone out there,
I hear so many sounds.
Perhaps the air from which I breathe
is much different than outside.
Will none of you who look through me,
see that I'm trapped inside?
I plead within this lonely cell,
please try to read my mind.
Never look pass anyone,
believe this pantomime.
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The Flame Of A Candle
02/06/03 |
Are we but flickers in
The flame of a candle,
Destined to bend on breaths
Of a whisper?
Our being diminishes as the tapers
Glow fades in time.
It's light weeps tears of existence
Until life ceases to be.
Psalms praise His glory
As names are etched in our hearts
And we ask, "are we but flickers
In the flame of a candle?"
Dedicated to the men and women who lost
their lives
on the space shuttle Columbia.
( May They Rest In Peace )
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Sandstone Angels
02/11/03
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I long to dwell within myself
With sunlit trance upon my face
And briny scents to clear the mind
Caressed by natures sweet embrace
I yearn for gentle cleansing tides
To soothe an ailing in my heart
And many festive flowered leis
Adorned by love not torn apart
I ache to quench a raging storm
Those pounding waves inside my shell
And calm the sea from seething surf
Receding from it's gowning spell
I know in time this pining soul
Will listen to it's calling sound
Of sirens beckoning to the shoal
Where sandstone angels ran aground
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Stoney Creek
02/17/03
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Have you ever been to Stoney Creek?
Some say it's haunted, so to speak.
It runs six miles through Heartley Glen
and ends its flow at Willow Bend.
Willow Bend, a lumbermill town,
exists above a burial ground.
Indian legend, so it goes,
receives its life from Stoney's flow.
As I recall from years ago,
an indian maid called Painted Toe,
rejected by her tribal kin,
immersed herself to cleanse her sin.
They found the body at Willow Bend,
where Stoney Creek comes to an end.
Sadness dwells within this tale,
Her tribal rights were not for sale.
They say at night you'll hear her wail,
for her young brave called Beaver Tail.
Their destined paths may not be found,
they're lost among forbidden grounds.
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Fate
02/24/03 |
Wherever life may lead us
We shall pass this way again
Maybe not as loves companions
But surely more than friends
Our hearts could touch another
And roads may never cross
Thoughts of what had always been
Could become our albatross
We might sit right by each other
On our way to work one day
I'll probably chant good morning
For lack of words to say
You may live across this country
Or a city block away
I somehow have the notion
Paths go further than today
Journeys are as never were
We must never say adieu
For who knows where fate may lead
When the road begins anew
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Brandon Square
03/02/03 |
A daily trek through Brandon Square
Where the baker sells his wares
Smells entice and lure you in
Chocolate brownies and eclairs
Neither powers of will nor hopes of ray
Shall let you pass them by
A sweet tooth fairy sets the bait
With blueberry and apple pie
You've heard that phrase a thousand times
True happiness is bliss
Remember where real pleasure lies
In strudels and raspberry twists
Sorry if I have tempted you
And it's meant with all my heart
Must leave this place I'm off to work
When I finish my strawberry tart.
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Marshy Moor
03/10/03 |
In Marshy Moor of ancient times,
shrill screeches can be heard.
They say these cries are lunacy,
some fear to pass the word.
Foolish men have lost their way,
by following those screams.
Of them all, none have returned,
tall tales are true, it seems.
Most wander to its' soggy edge,
with good intent in mind.
Change of heart comes over them,
for courage can not find.
There was a man named Jerry Jones,
who chose to seal his fate.
His hat was found and nothing else,
for he, it was too late.
Should you go to Marshy Moor,
this warning take from me.
Cries are not of a woman lost,
and the trek comes with a fee.
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