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Pieter

Hard at work is the Reaper Grim
Shape-shifting for evil within
Essence of death always present
Skeletal make of humankind

Flaunting tools of torture and death
No armor stops the blades slicing
From horror filled countenances
Life-line blood from jugular spills

Atop the wagon-wheel gallows
Raven sits on an empty nest
Tattered cloth and drifting hang-twine
Soulless wanderers scurry ‘bout

WHICH PARADISE?

A dull wet pop
and who could know
such a thing would make life stop
as surely as a bullet's blow?

Then a wavering of everything
and I awake
to a cool place where wild birds sing
where a spring is there my thirst to slake.

The forest duff is deep and soft
inviting me to stay and sit
while scattered clouds drift by aloft
while in eyes' corners boojums flit.

Wrinkles of Gold

Like origami
Every fold a line of gold
A simple symbol
But pay respects to how complex

I have an image in my mind
Of steady hands
Folding paper
Into an origami frog

First here and then there
Forward, backward
Up and down
Together and apart
And back together again

Wrinkled, perhaps
Like the paper craft
Itself

A frog of paper
A frog of flesh

When we’re done
Will we remember
Each fold?
The work
That went into
Each organ,
So to speak?

New Year's Day

The old year is out
The new year is in
We all waited for it to begin
Now the new year is here to stay

Goodwill abounds
From friends and family all around
That this year will be
Better than the last gone past

Sunrise

Underlying beauty, glazing sky,
here you are to greet me.
Intangible colors, rising.
awakening cold heart at dawn.

It feels like green eyes can see;
for the very first time!
A soul that's stirring up,
a full pot of bright thoughts,
brimming the edge of serenity.
Although bricks and bough's stand in way,
you are holy, beaming love,
on this winters day.

Wait Within My Colton Friend

at every chance at the slight of a glance barbed wire fence within advance..,
Johnny came out from the attic can you seek to cut it from above yet,
a rod and stain tossed brevity as easy as it may seam
given power in the pay check seeking self to please
running out of steam

slow at the staff ignored at the advance
heros breed a dime a dozen
Warhol sought his 15 minutes of fame
guided nurse we kiss and plow

Aura Star

beneath the rubble throughout
tumble thimble want to bee
sought through of curtain wanna be
circle through the defiance years to see
pudding in the cup just wait and see
there look at parting vestibules in there distance
I exist as a vapor then I am no more

The Study

I’m the only object moving in the room.
A place that is exactly the same as I left it;
like the sudden alertness after anesthesia.

The Beast

a carnival of hordes in withering grass

the high priestess tongues the beast

wet mandible
on a dragging death gowned doll
like a cyclone coils paradise

trans mutative

prismatic unfurling's
passed bones of confusion

passed scorched refuse
of radiating spiraled phantoms

the more gods, the more demons
battle angel symmetries
in Taoist jaws

galactic lurking's
into parametric infinities
escalating war like cloud light
rush glittering arms of affliction

Why Duty Free...

Why Duty Free…

Gave me a flag, uniform, then a gun,
said a soldier’s life was to fight or die.
Drilled me to march, salute, attention,
but never answered, when I asked why.

Why do we need to kill each other,
surely not just for land, oil or gold.
Become uncivil, even to a brother,
Take another’s life before it’s old.

Why do we need a bigger bomb,
produce poisons we must never use.
If we turn the planet into a tomb,
who’ll be around to hear our news.

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