only now do i see
after all has been spent
in spite of my own best interests
it is only now
with the burdens since championed
at the cost of my known faith
the eyes through which i now see
can no longer bear the sight of silence
Now
Where Lost Time Stands Still
a faltering state of mind
calls this pittance to arms
the paltriest paradigm
of pandering charms
defaulting to circumstance
chants ruing the day
in vaults of indignance
locked deftly away
a vacuous feeling
since stolen from god
that once seemed appealing
now dolent and odd
beyond every precipice
where lost time stands still
and thoughts of our sins escape
from cells of spent will
but dare never to look back
lest our sanity fall
from blight into blackness
confined to mute walls
constructed of naught but
our lies and laments
in reveries e’er fraught
with heaven’s repent
Sharing Is Caring:
Roseate Lips
having read
the words
i had written
i lay somber
in solitude
soft strands
of sorrow
trace
this weary face
unable to understand
the nature
of perception
painting
my known reality
in scenes
of dormant verve
where torment falls
into tedium’s abyss
this resignation
squanders
the heart’s of men
quashing freed spirits
these tears are more
than salted dew
they whisper
thoughts
of hopeless wander
knowing
their fate
to be forsaken
swaddled in
this brimming cauldron
of cacophonous echoes
refused
their final
resting place
that lay within
your heart
what sorrow
this truth
weighs upon me
for i have come
to comprehend
its toll
as winter
now descends
brisk and bright
with snow-blanched walls
i fall
to find the fears
from which i have
forever fled
surround me
in my umbral journey
i have nothing
present
to pacify
the passing
hours
and prudence,
ever the afterthought
yet
here i lay
drenched
in tears
that draw
but one
conclusion
the illusion
of now
is the illustration
that streaks across
my mind’s eye
like light
that lived
so long ago
now soaring
above silent shadows
to show the truth
of temporal permanence
this
you have awakened
within me
i can only watch
as perfumed petals
waft
from roseate lips
Sharing Is Caring:
Latent Introspection
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
Sharing Is Caring:
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:
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:
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:
Letting Be
Let not the pain in which we suffer
Afflict those carrying our hearts
Release allures veiling elusive
For each must tend their burdened load
Let the ancient souls subsist us
With forces none dare comprehend
Let no man stand to quash thy purpose
Stay the path shone brightly with truth
For only minds of open ingress
Sow the seeds of fortune’s reap
Filling fields we’d let fall fallow
With abundant wonders strewed
Train thy sights of weather eye
Upon these friendships, forge thy freedom
Under skies of vibrant valor
Let us rise to heights unknown
To walk in every path whence trod
Perchance, to understand our own
Sharing Is Caring:
Obfuscation
hopelessly conforming to our cognitive contrivances
in clandestine displays displacing confluence of ideas
imbued upon incumbents of internalized inferences
incessantly impugning the perceptions deemed as real
in paltry portions pacifying, passively portrayed
for purposes supposing sempiternity simplistic
as space which occupies the oppositional array
presumed as dispositions predisposed to false depictions
encrypted by the cruxes of dysfunctions which pervade
with predilection fixed on flights of bold dissociation
disparities defining our delusions and dismay
that separate our fates from our accountability
to fortify the mechanisms meant to mend the breaching
where pieces preaching solipsism seep into our mind
from failing to reach out into extrinsic realms surrounding
if found would then invoke such visions previously veiled
availing of an evolution poised with lucid aplomb
permitting us to own the implications of our wrath
imparted to our conscience, conscientiousness most sound
that we might better understand all aspects of existence
with balance from auspicious valence, hope might then compound
Max, or Not 
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