having just awoken from a truth
none dare to dream
i reveled in the feeling
of an old familiar friend
for once the house that held this heart
had found itself a home
inhabited by every hapless moment
rapt in youth
i felt a warmth so radiant
where smiles wore freedom’s linger
the foreign touch of fingers
poised to praise and not condemn
i wandered through the shifting walls
of visions so uplifting
while drifting in between
the conscious states that fate once held
a gentle hand was guiding me
through windows of perception
with eyes of every fabled tale
of caring and concern
many arms were reaching out
that left no sting of burden
and words were spoken
with a calming comfort and relief
in this fixed expression of release
like peals of fulgurance
strike every version’s revelations
voiced of your reflection
with resonance, they ring out
to floresce in all dimensions
through broken mirrors
of latent introspection
How Long Is A Mile?
a dismal gloom blares
in the distance
of concrete the corridors cry
gnashing with sinuous steel
stolen from the vacuum of midnight erosion
it is now as it was then
a tenuous terror entranced
beyond the circumstance of thought
barreling down outstretched roads of unknown ending
a home blighted nomadic with static fluoresce
abuzz with abundant abandon
each night anew
feeding silver to shiver
amid layered squalor shown blind to bright eyes
left to devices unfit for adorning
fetid filth teemed with ambiguities
but stranger things still filled my head as i stood
behind the partition of gold lamé dinge
alone like a stone world of door tethered drifters
obscured by their numbers
familiar yet foreign
rasping with roars of abrupt deconstructing
and hearts worn by prophets of apathy’s idle
but pray not awaken
the ire composed of their hijacked illusion
when truant frontiers promised fears
poised to fade
from days faster
than words would beam hope
inside daydreams of youth
disaster had fled with indignance
in woven distortions
unspooling in blood
where conifers blurred
in absurdity
dust filled my head
with a sweet symphonic suite
still assuring that we are not there yet
Sharing Is Caring:
2 am
two in the morning
the hour of unmooring
and sordid self-sanctified litanies of lament
a restless contortion condemned
to weak flesh
And pensive delusions
of dreams death and somnolence
vying for conquest compliant
in courtship of heaven’s duress
with static distortion
the cries since impending
have rendered the dawn sempiternally unsound
as whispers she once left
to toil within
the tempest eye
where the star’s
lonesome hearts dwell
on waves of her lips
wisps of wistful prose
haunting perception
felled cowardice kisses
transmuted
adrift between boundaries
of bold indecision
dare told by none
writhing long
in scorching depths
arriving at naught
but poise fraught with a bold thought
to win the morn
a toll was then taken
far greater than fate
inundating our soul
Sharing Is Caring:
Ego Trumps All
to share upon this vulgar pittance
beholding the avarice emboldened hence
is all too appalling
and calls for impaling
those of impudent partisan offense
pathology virulent of veiled reverie
begets naught but apathy’s reign of contempt
as death trickles down
of loss so profound
appearing perfunctory in its descent
a madness has stricken the tenuous hearts
with lichen tinged artifice haunting closed minds
the flesh disavowed
such feverish cow
forsaking for no sake but wastrel design
and squander they will with such lack of foresight
to plunder the will of humanity’s fight
whose plight turned so grave
all life spurned to save
malignance indignant of our human rights
stripped of our own person, to verse, we must take
eclipsing the truth of our sanity’s wake
as such to arrive
where none shall e’er thrive
diseased by a greed that can never be slaked
alas, i implore thee, with feeling once more
regale us with narratives slighting succor
for ego trumps all
behind fortified walls
and calls heard to defend the rich from the poor
Sharing Is Caring:
Stowed Amid A Solstice Dream
end this e’er incessant stream
of penance prying open seams
with hypervigilance unspoken
stowed amid a solstice dream
halt this hallowed grand illusion
bending will with blind intrude
bleeding onto open canvas
tapestries of hope construed
stay thy tongue of saintly affect
straying from each painted breath
brushing bold projections thrust
beyond the surface tension’s depth
swallow all the seas between us
stinging erstwhile tears of trust
lost in sallow shores born waning
scars implore fomenting rust
sink into the brink of madness
tingling impingent caress
ere we held this cursed congress
acquiescing fear’s duress
in the interim entangled
dangling whims will surely shed
sans decorum, sowing unheard
cries of autumn blur, bereft
Sharing Is Caring:
The Sloe
silent shrills
spilled forth like flies
from graves of eager repose
dolent will
crept from her eyes
in waves of welling woe
stoically
a stolen bliss
of esoteric air
stranded long
as loss bestilled
mesmeric songs drew tears
sycamores
loomed nigh as night
blew fickle wafts of clove
trickling
illuminously
from aloft the sloe
Sharing Is Caring:
Before
Beam of unrelenting inquest
Baring truth of barren chest
Blaring with aberrant bidding
Bearing of unknown behest
Sharing Is Caring:
Sediment
brief to behold
retold as sweet sorrow
as daylight unfolds
and hours become borrowed
a tragic seclusion
walls rusted with death
impassioned delusions
seek mustering breaths
but long have the seasons
shone cyclical sun
where dawn winces reason
through cryptic webs spun
as tall as a fall’s tale
as broad as the sky
embalmed inside black shale
and wallowing sighs
a grim inquisition
brings ground underfoot
where dimly lit prisons
sing sounds of refuting
Sharing Is Caring:
Hollow Hearts of Clay
hollow hearts of clay
awaken, the day’s rue
sway
with impulse
fickle, as the squandered bloom
lest sated
by squall’s dew
trickling serous dolor
a desiccant fate awaits
Sharing Is Caring:
Window of Slumber
i believe in subtle skies where you and i might meet
dreams serene that lie between the rift of open eyes
i have seen you as you are and as you may have been
whispering in silent hues refracting through dawn’s dew
waxing spools of unspent words where truth inspires the wind
freely falling as the finest motes on placid seas
hidden realms of quietus and calming songs of trust
long forgotten degustaions painting life as love
memories once fleeing from our muddled minds transmute
so will sunken soil bear secrets deep as stars in view
wonders yet unknown of verity as vast as home
one day will awaken with the ancient prayers of yore
every layer of mystery once more will breathe the sun
until this time i find the faces fond as once i held
traced in patterns strewn about in scattered lines perceived
inside of worlds familiar depicted in my sleep
Max, or Not 
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