Bliss of Solitude
Wandering lonely like a fallen leaf of an autumn tree
Flowing with the winter breeze
A Stone Hits Home
The trick is not to stick with what won’t stick. Life's stories are muddy quarries where worries cloud those under and shroud with their thunder bereft memories like lightning hailing pain for rain.
The Games We Play
Wanting to scream all the pain that you've been keeping to yourself.
But instead, you covered your mouth.
Keeping those screaming and not letting any word out.
Tragic October
Stitches our tattered bond every doubtful night.
But your lies, keep ripping us apart.
The curtains patch our battles from the world to hear.
We Are Queer Geese
Our honks and hiss transform
Rebellious riots into pride parades,
Peer-pressure shame into defiant love,
Fragile weakness into gorgeous strength.
The Burial of King Henry VIII
Gazing on King Henry's corpse did we stand,
Not a solider stood saluting, as his farewell shot,
Satisfied faces stood there, no rose in the hand.
Strangeness
In the dimly lit corridors
Between the two realms
Of sleep and consciousness
Are lost in the cruel haze
of wakefulness
Beginning with “M”
For the impossibilities
Have faded in yesterdays
Be grateful that memories
cannot work
All That’s Left Is Mud
Due to being created by and inhabited by
Dirty, corrupted, sick humans,
The world is covered with
Muddy contradictions and romantics.
Come To My Parlor
"Please do come to my home,"
Whispered the lonely spider
To anyone who came by.
Changed Heart
We say hello...we say goodbye So many times, we tried to fly Our hearts are broken but still, we try
Melting Moons & Threading Stars
They paint magenta over black skies
or pale blue over white clouds.
Some painters dab their brushes
in magenta skies others in clouds.