Gone tomorrow

​“It’s quiet this morning.
Dead quiet.
Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
Trailing off into nothingness.
The atmosphere smothers,
I can feel it pressing
Like a pillow
Against my skin.
We all know.
Waiting, both patient
And impatient,
For someone to say,
To tell us
What we already know.
As if that will make a difference,
Like he’s not gone
Until they tell us.
There won’t be shirt tearing,
Hair pulling sobs.
Maybe when we leave this place,
We will whisper to those we love.
Someone died.
Here, Today.

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​The sea gnaws hungrily
At the shore
Salivates
At the taste of another soul
On the air.

Its tongue licks up the sand
Waiting to swallow me
I wait
Its angry rumbling
Consumes the silence

Regurgitating trees
In its temper
Foaming
In its delerium
Before it backs away.

The white screen stares
As if it cares
That there are no more words to come.
My heart is numb.
Fingers slow, caress the keys,
As if to tease,
So gently tugging at the words
As yet unheard.
Hidden within this timorous brain,
A silent pain.

​A drip 

Drops,
Splashing
In a pool.

A word

Falling
From lips
Into chatter.

Lost
Forever
In the whole.

Damn your poetry; all those golden words
Which drip like venom from your subtle knife
The mirage painted now seems so absurd
Yet for its glory I’d have spent my life.
You held my hand, gently my throat did bleed,
While lips with softest kisses left their mark
Softly your mirage shimmered, matched my need,
Beautiful melodies were heard not callous barks.
But oh, were it just that you were from hell,
A succubus whose joy was in my fall,
For did I not invite you in as well,
Allowing your devotion to my call?
Such bitter sweetness in the blood which flows:
We both are bleeding in love’s dying throes.

Lights flicker on a dead tree
Maybe its intentional
Or a faulty wire
Perhaps it will spark
And then
With tree aflame
The house will twinkle
In the light of fire
Reflected
From a thousand gaudy baubles

Here potions do what make-up’s brush cannot,
Lending sparkles to such grey morning light.
With bleary eyes, we stumble without thought
In through the doors, escaping weary night.
Soft peddlers of long accepted sin
Relieve our aching symptoms of withdrawal;
Brewing black magic, served in paper thin.
Our own delights created at a call?
We learn to ask for what we want so late
Leading a life so limited by forms;
For menu boards; which specify our fate,
Draw smoothly in and limit us to norms.
So do not fear to step beyond today
Let heart decide and live this life your way.

Mercillessly
The moon marks months
Marching on
In melancholy monotony

Our roads dividing
Brings its own silent sadness
Let it not be so.

Rekindling life,

In dark echoing silence; 

I shelter a flame.