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The stream (all workshops)

This is the stream - you can see all poems on Neopoet, live, as they are created.

 

some distant drums did beat

distant drums did beat
that lonely night
when I was all alone
sleeping in the veiled forest
life seemed to drudge along
there was none to hear my song
in the far distant time at night
I heard drums on my transistor
some folks were like me
in a far off jungle merrying
they must have been lonely too
but they were enjoying
as much as I wished to

COUPLE

Look at that old couple there
slowly strolling their own way
him with hardly any hair,
while hers has become streaked with gray
as younger crowds swirl all around

And while they walk their private path
they smile and recall days gone by
sometimes sharing a soft laugh
quickly absorbed by blue sky
as if there'd never been a sound

The Black Dog

The black dog

caught up with me

 

darting from shadow

to shade, I see the

bloodshot eyes

of a rabid hell

 

he stalks with ears laid back

slowly baring white fangs

my legs turn to jelly

the end may be here

 

In silence I give in

walking into the mist

with the smell of death

permeating everything 

 

there is no running now

no escape from his hell

I am bound to watch

as he rips at my entrails

 

my last breath is ready

Night Creature,(Part One)

The darkened moon was somewhere
I could feel it on my skin
Like a cold embracing tomb-shroud
As the stain of age-old sin

I roamed this ancient city
Only shadows did I meet
In the ramparts,on the rooftops
Twisted shadows in the street

China Doll

China Doll
With eyes of glass
Cry invisible tears
Each time you pass

Molded lips
painted red
Silent words
Never said

Carelessly tossed
With all the scraps
One of life's cruel mishaps

Broken limbs
Tiny pieces
Glued haphazardly
Alone she sits
In her misery

hunter

gaunt thirst
tethered against a tight leash
scope focused
upon the cull

slender thigh
silk covered
backlit sun
beneath the underbrush

soft rainfall upon parched lips
reason smears
wet upon the trigger

locked unloaded
instincts bewail
the execution

deep tracks
history muddles the clean trail
excrement offerings
sign the pursuit

history of knowledge
experience honed
he bends to kiss the trail

reverence sharpened
indecision cautioned

hunter hunted

S t a t i c u s

she falls
backboned and heel bare
struck
alive with light

television blare

her blonde perfect head
the angel mouth

there are wildfires of
storms ringing through
a fresh mind

lightning in her arms
tightening her spine
the thunder realms

vibratto

gran mals her gram
says
her ovid pupil
relfecting the worried
smile
of the youthful inflection

..

SLUMBER

Slumber, 
that happening at night,
take hold the sheets, 
pull over me,
capture my dreams, 
breathe my breath 
in gentle streams of heart beats. 

The witching hour is nigh,
no stars, 
no flares of light,
opaque the purple sky,
as if the dawn were swallowed up for good,
would never show its face again,
becoming black oblivion. 

As I, one human being being, 
soon shall die. 

Ragnarök

I sit atop the Frozen Throne
The Light of the World grows dim.
As foretold on the primeval stone
The dark crept in, with barely a whim.

The frosted air dances at my feet
My ambitions burn
welding me to the Throne
The Earth murmurs
crumbling as I stare at the unending night

I hear the World's last beat
The skies churn
breathing a thunderous moan
Souls tremor
searing in brimstone, no end in sight

seamed

room and stockings
traffic lights cast judgement
through
greasy panes
as they dance
silhouettes of indifference

unknown breath
expensive strokes
upon cold skin

time spins slowly
as the hungry belly awaits
coup de grace

puny life
looted

rations scraps
the feast
of burlesque nights
swathed in deaden sweat

unwashable repent
upon tarnished opulence

thoughts swim
as body awaits its fee
cast upon the table

I bow to thee

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