(CHARM)
¤
my only weakness
darkened words from a lovely maiden
handed down upon a beaten brow
to a realm i dare not tread
for fear of the moment
transcending all that is to come
ignorance my mind doth breed
to exist in a plane divided
chosen schism i feel comforted to have
wrought with sweaty marks and a bleeding staff
so soft a stroke from a demon's breast
that creates an emotion i never share
to those who walk the lighted street
thus the search was imminent
results delivered without a care for haste
anticipate the worthy substance
water's edge filling an absent void
the faintest touch by an open flame
burning through a sconce made hollow
desire yet a revenant so welcoming
in ages marching past the point of hindsight
tis a third eye watching
motionless and standing tall
upon a beaten brow familiar in reflection
gazing fast on the wings of nightingales
as they slide on the strings of steel

(FORLORN PATH)
¤
treading through a darkened plane
frought with too many perils
dimly lit by burning lamps
the body's spirit wracked with depression
crawling forth on hands and knees
towards a goal without a gain
no soul to help ease the suffering
still the spirit continues onward
in a world of agony that never ends
what hope is there to find in such a place
should the mortal coil be cast
away to some distant land
and find a residence more comforting
devoid of any melancholy thoughts
living peacefully under a moonless night
from memories that now have past

(GEMINI WORLD)
¤
viewing modestly
upon the derelict
a canvas wide and vacant all around
every corner hiding possibilities
singularity
center for renewal
amidst the shroud a bungalow revealed
the evanescence spread about in random
contemplating here
a plane of existential majesty
created by the dimming lantern glow
softly lit a path
leading in direction
towards an alcove mild in appearance
standing still a forest whispers loudly
coming to a bridge
striding through its beauty
crossing in a fluid curvature
a creature feeding from the gravid bloom
finishing the stroll
long forgotten pieces now remain
as icons time has yet to leave behind
tools without a trace
turn around each structure
search beneath the sky to grasp each treasure
claiming artifacts for their own reward
wander every hall
casting hollow glances
cathedral spires built from mountain stone
placed beside a brook that fills the spring
scanning up ahead
a change of fortune as a glimpse is caught
a distant grotto beckoning a single girl
radiant allure
waving out in greeting
her presence strange within these lands
inhabitants created as a rarity
kindred are they all
a world of opposites
reluctant moments place departure soon
and let this realm exist as only memory
normal ground returns

(MIDNIGHT OWLS)
¤
amidst a shrouded land
a shrinking violet follows nightshade
glancing through a vacant breeze
roaming straight ahead
exhaustion looming
fighting tired enemies
wandering without direction
souls bereft of kindred faces
centered to a place
of speculation
hours passing by
drinking much yet always thirsty
treading freely in the mind
dreaming all alone
inside a chamber
vision clear as glass
but lacking any sanctity
meandering within the night
beside the frozen walls
awake and silent
coming home at last
tortured from the fading sun
solace found but never hidden
as the owl slumbers
beginning to end

(REALITY)
¤
I see what can never be shown
I feel that which is held by others
I write as the words break free
I sample every sweet aroma
I play to the muse beckoning
I taste the hidden pleasures
I create in a world without detail
I think from a mind let loose
I work toward a deeper cause
I move through an empty darkness
I believe in friendly demons
I do for one reason alone
because I am what I appear to be
the true reality

(SAPPHIRE CITY)
¤
an arrival of images streaming in blue
one mind working like industry
a pair of ears feeling the melodies
hands to catch the scent of keys
two darkened eyes tasting one color
or softened lips to feel a sweetened spice
a nose that sees a city bloom
the rhythm beats no sound of doom
then watch as twenty blackbirds fly
underneath a narrow span of bridge
paper winds aloft go higher
nothing sacred built from steel and wire
on occasion from a passing cougar
towers full of explanations lost
two bodies strolling down the shore
an urban landscape hidden years before

(SPIRE)
¤
and then there was one
of one who will depart this place of lost souls
and he will join in hollow lands
filled to brimming with the pall
asylum cast in stone
and then there was none
the sun a lonely place where clouds are strewn
flying high in winged scales
turning straight forward he flew
a sceptre will he hone
and then he did run
with dragon's rage and bloody malice wrought
severed lives covering the hovel
led up the tower wall and floor
death begets its own
and then it was done
a cry is roared amongst the tiled banister
declaring right above deaf ears
the pain avenged for naught
and then there was none again

(SPONTANEOUS)
¤
leaves of green growing from a pot
connected to its basket neighbors
walls of sound fired from devices
in a room barren of the art
created by the hands of an individual
asking will the fountains flow again
the air becoming cold and pulverized
lying on the floor with piles of sand
out of which an eye inside the mind
turns into a page of graphite
bulbs lighting up a corner
source no different from that seen before
a box filled with festivals
open next to the house of time
ready and alert for the coming season
standing alone as the sunset falls
of all creation speculated
enticing music emanate from landscapes
for this form that beckons creativity
to watch on paper canvas such an image
gazing soon upon the face of roaming angels
and now a peaceful slumber runs forth
cut short by a scimitar
thinking of this night to finish all

(TESTAMENT)
¤
what strife hath thee
that which is burden casteth upon me
the shadow of hindsight lurking near
thus did speak of thine altered thought
yet now harkened the blind eye
my mind wrought and snared
visions hence but a fallacy
a weakness of mine for femininity
at persent thy mental wanderings
sealed in haste
displayeth not themselves
and thou did watch the outside story
amidst many a feeling inside
conflicting paths black as nightingales
yet doth behold an image vacant
tis a short reacquisition
the sights thou knoweth of fondly
to that end dost thou cease thine prose

(VEIL)
¤
peering through the looking glass
a barrel pointing from the trigger
to the eyes of atomic children
and witness that revelation
born from many days of sunlight
along with nights of crystal clarity
while fingers probing the very depths
of one's ability to reach beyond
and tear apart the twilight
shining down upon a chalice
green like forest emeralds
but filled to brimming with the dreams
taking place around a sapphire
aloft in flames from careless wonder
there sits a humble dragon
crying forth in reassurance
that this realm lies in waiting
for the coming fairies to return
claiming that they find more gifts
at the end of a decade's toil
found by an empty artist
always on a desperate search
to find the hidden spell of alchemy
creation at its most divine
a substance neither here nor gone
some spark of matter to withhold
opaque as it is ethereal
and yet it still seems dormant
ever present on whitened pages
visible between the blackened lines
only then the view becomes apparent
to the eye beyond the looking glass

(WRITER'S TRIUMPH)
¤
inside this cranium
is there no passage
past this window of the eye
is there a lack of brilliance
not the wailing of a man
but the prison of his mind
no key to enter such an obstacle
transparency that reveals
his future goal set down in writing
those words that lay beyond the veil
the ideas that remain upon the canvas
is there a lack of will
or simply senses dulled and broken
in his vision stands such beauty
on his skin the winds and water
from within is heard the worldly sounds
something sweet upon his tongue
all around each moving statue
he does tell of earthly actions
invisible is this key
needed to embrace the lock
and from the well arises
all those words imprisoned
in a cage of bone and memory
behind the window of the eye
image formed from serendipity
at which he sees the purity
such prose now rescued
beneath those darkened chambers
such strength unhindered on the page
his dreams and wishes manifested
is there sufficient will to keep it flowing
while his body rests amidst the garden
far beyond the neverending sea
to visit foreign lands within his soul
the well has dried but made to savor
cavity inside the mind now so vacant
blackened marks against the whitened slate
proof now evident of his pertinent creation
a piece of life so fragile here
has given way to seal his woe
window of the eye open once again
and so the poet now returns