Moonlight lay on the swaying trees.
Stars winked at the river’s grim face.
Ghosts of those who lived long ago
Breathed softly with low breaths of breeze,
Through the leaves, across time and space.
Ghosts whispered with a cosmic flow,
In tongues lost to lethean past,
Whose words painted a fading scene
Of souls who know not what they mean,
And joy that can but moments last.

Know we were once as you are now,
And would be still if we knew how.
Before these visions of life cease,
Pray thee, seek the river to peace.

The Sky Today

The sky today is neither blue nor gray;
A theme that achieves neither sun nor rain.
I am here, yet faraway -
Somewhere between pleasure and pain.

Why?

A man looked up at the taciturn face of the universe,
And faced with an endless challenge to his survival,
He whispered, "How?"

Having overcome the immediate challenges to survival,
The man looked up at the taciturn face of the universe,
And whispered, "Why?"

As Big of Fool as I

Once while I was working,
One numberless day,
Momentarily shirking
A few moments away,
I spied a weary ant
Engaged in endless toil,
On an uphill slant,
Moving grains of soil.

"Damn fool!" I cried,
"Don’t you ever ask why?
In you I must confide;
You’re as big a fool as I!"

At Forage

See the contented cattle at forage,
How they bow their heads to greater power.
Hear the sheep for nothing more than now yearn,
While their shepherds squabble over porridge,
And herdsmen, in a sleepless night hour,
Lie wresting with some imagined concern.
Observe the creations of a master,
Free from all self-authored conflict and woe.
See the fools deem the world a disaster
And rule the universe a mortal foe.

Do You Think You Can Tell?

Did you sell your soul for complete control?
Bargain honor for a masquerade role?
Did you give away your heroes for gold?
Exchange human warmth for plasticized cold?
Did you peddle your ideals for a joke?
Swap a cool breeze for hot sulfur and smoke?
Barter morning dew for moral decay?
Accept the rules and throw your dreams away?
Desert rolling green fields for parking lots?
Sell out country roads for burial plots?
Betray the mountains for high-rise demise?
Trade your blue ozone for gray lifeless skies?
Vend scarlet sunsets for sidewalk bloodstains?
Deal away pristine streams for sewer drains?
Have you made paradise wherein to dwell?
Do you think you can tell heaven from hell?

The One Truth of My Invention

I have waded the swamps of a million seasons,
Thought in a thousand lives,
Discovered a hundred reasons
Why my existence so strives.

In what form shall I know
The one truth of my invention?
Mother, with what intention
Did you crawl from the salt sea so long ago?

A Million Years More

I sometimes wonder as I wander earth
  Seeking clues to the mysteries of fate,
If I shall ever be privileged to know
  The purpose of creation’s awful birth.
All may be revealed in some future state,
  As far as past revealed secrets show.
Yesterday, or some million years before,
  I came to life in a primordial sea -
From then till now look what I’ve come to be!
  Where shall I stand in a million years more?

Through Innocent Eyes

    I wonder if there is a master ghoul,
Somewhere beyond the mirrors and the smoke,
Hiding behind a maze of countless skies.

    I ponder at the motives of a fool,
Who, blinded by self-praise for a bad joke,
Must avoid the gaze of innocent eyes.

Evaluation

Take away all perceptions that make up your dear day.
Devise the guise of truth in your own special way.
Twine the strings of fate any way that it pleases.
Design any divine mime or rhyme that appeases.
Hold your breath.
But one day, you’ll have to meet death.

Weep.
Weep for me.
Weep for you and every living thing you see.

Weep.
And when you’re through,
Dry your eyes, and tell me what that’s going to do.

Sleep.
Sleep in fear.
Choose your dreams most carefully, and still you’re here.

Sleep.
But when you wake,
Bear in mind that time will find you for time’s sake.

All you are,
And all you see,
And all you ever hope to be,
Is but a transient wishing star.

A fading light, a fantasy, an echo in eternity,
Is all you are.

Truth’s Hue

Confusion clouds my mind from time to time.
Fear fills my senses with expanding gloom.
But I see through the most meaningless mime,
And lock fear in a dark and soundproof room.

All of the answers I may never find.
But truth’s hue is progressively showing,
As reason cleans the smudges from my mind,
And supplements wondering and knowing.

Beyond The Velvet Lie

If you and I could fly
Into the distant sky,
In search of twinkling light
Beyond the velvet lie,

Would we find truth on high,
Expand and never die?
Perhaps not, but we might!
Should we not at least try?

When I Threw Off My Blighted Shroud

When I threw off my blighted shroud,
    And cast my chains aside,
When first I spoke the truth aloud,
    And braved all who denied,
When I found God inside of me,
    A burning mortal might,
When I beheld that shining light,
    I knew that I was free!

Harbor

In the storm, where is security?
Before the temper of the tempest tossed,
The helmsman drowned, direction lost,
The course blown to obscurity,
Where does a soul turn for provision?
In the estuary of decision,
Blinded by despair, where, for evermore,
Might I find a better view?
Mind of reason, unfaltering oar,
I moor my heart in you.

Fortune Cookie

You are blessed not to believe
Fortune in a cookie lies.
In the end, what you achieve
Is gained through persistant tries.
Ignore that which doom mumbles.
Your fate is to understand.
The way the cookie crumbles
Is determined by your hand.

I Seek Alone Untarnished Truth

I seek alone untarnished truth.
  Although difficult to find,
It resides in the heart of youth,
  And the meditative mind.

Superstition is a fool’s realm,
  Religion a foul pig sty.
And propaganda takes the helm
  With a narrow-sighted eye.

I decry humankind’s blind rules.
  All its dogmas I despise.
I will not sing the praise of fools.
  And I cannot live with lies.

For Which the Ancients Yearned

Long-past thoughts have been given their due -
Stepping stones to reach that which is true.
In with the old and out with the new?
Scorn the day and rever a worn shoe?
Lessons of antiquity are learned.
The mystics are dead, the dogmas spurned.
History’s dim lamps have all been burned.
Now is that for which the ancients yearned.

Or is the conclusion
Continued delusion?

Alone I Fear

I value not the incessant drone -
The madness of pack mentality.

I have no fear of being alone,
To face my soul and mortality,
Cultivating the fields I have plowed
In my mind by my heart and my word.

Alone I fear being in a crowd,
And not knowing the whim of the herd.

Unashamed

Leaving one garden, I found another.
  And as I was planted, so I bore fruit!
There I praised the vineyard of my brother,
  Though he raised a crop I could not compute.
Are the ram’s lecherous tendencies sin?
  Shall all ears the magpie’s harsh note deride?
Can a wolf for his appetite be blamed?
  I sing the naked truth of all my kin!
It is time to cast our fig leaves aside,
  And walk forth proudly, feeling unashamed.

The Concept

A psychologist, a psychic, and a psycho,
Met one day beneath an oak.
They considered the tree’s’ grandly twisted show.
Then to each other they spoke.

There seems to be the possibility,
Suggested by its nonconformity,
Of some inner desire to be free.

The concept has always been clear to me.

In the Aftermath

Once I fought in a cold war,
In trenches ten thousand miles wide.
I’m not sure I left a scar,
Or won a battle for my side.
But I was glad to drop my gun.
I’m not sure either side lost.
But not withstanding the cost,
I think everyone won.

Misconceived Notions of Right

When shall human nature at last perceive
  Peaceful coexistence nailed to a cross
Whose failed ideologies achieve
  Little more than retribution and loss!
That humankind might turn the tattered page
  That advocates intolerance and blame,
And fancies of self-emulating flight
  That discard life in suicidal rage,
As moths flutter headlong into the flame,
  Martyred to misconceived notions of right!

Do I Have Your Attention Yet?

You’ve been told many times not to trust a stranger.
    Did you ever wonder why?
  Look at the time and tell me you’re not in danger -
      And still you deny.

But in your heart you find an empty space
    That all reassurances can’t relieve.
  Now look deep within my eyes,
      And tell me that you don’t believe.
  You must look past the lies
    Reflected from your fading face.

The sun is setting. And
         the
         stars
         are
         falling
         From the sky.
  The night is calling.
And you are going to die.

(A brief pause for regret)

Do I have your attention yet?

What Did You Do for the Universe?

In your final moment of introspect,
  When you stare death straight in his sullen eyes,
Shall you look back on your life and reflect,
  Or be overwhelmed by your own demise?
Did you help make the world a better place?
  Can you lift up your banner at long length?
Or shall you lower your head in disgrace?
  Did you work with all your might, mind, and strength,
Or squander your spirit in idle waste?
  Did you complain about your unfair lot,
Or through your difficulties wisdom seek?
  Did you make decisions with undo haste?
Did you oppose the cruel, and defend the weak?
  Or taint your honor with ignoble thought?
Did you satiate your most sordid need,
  Or seek a creed of moral distinction?
Did you set service and love as your goal,
  Or endeavor for selfishness and greed?
Did you save a species from extinction?
  Ease the suffering of a single soul?
Did you struggle for truth and never cease,
  Or did you perpetuate fallacy?
Did you fight for justice, to right all wrong?
  Did you strive with all your being for peace,
Or was violence your only legacy?
  Did you succor heavy hearts with your song?
Was existence a virtue or a crime?
  In life, what did you do for human kind,
That might warrant a line of gentle verse?
  Assess your effort while you still have time.
In your passing what did you leave behind?
  Oh, what did you do for the universe?

Disposing the Time

In silence the destitute pray,
Disposing their time in an offhand way,
Longing to face that final hour,
While steadily wilts the bloom of the flower.

There was a soul that starved away,
And died once more of sorrow,
Having not lived a single day,
Before there was no morrow.

A Measure of Wit

Large ideas in small spaces rarely fit -
Brevity is the truest measure of wit.

The Baseball Witch

When I see children gathered to play ball,
In some yard hardly wide enough to play,
I think of the childhood yard where I played,
Games with other kids – baseball most of all.

When a lifetime was measured by a day,
We had but one thought to make us afraid -
The inhabitant beyond the great wall -
The croon behind the fence – The Baseball Witch!

We rarely had to bear her prune-like face,
Just her occasional rusty-gate voice,

Now, boys, I don’t want your toys in my yard!

We suspected we knew how she got rich -
The confiscated balls fallen from space!

We never forfeited a ball by choice.
Our fair foul balls we were forced to discard!
All stray balls became Hers, by some mandate
That we all lacked the courage to protest.

Even pleas to adult authorities
Found no one willing to question our fate,
No soul brave enough to accept a quest
To face the witch, only to hear her wheeze,

Now, I told you before about those balls,
If they come in my yard they become trash!

All but the foolish avoided the trip.
Parents’ bribery, threats, angry phone calls,
No grownup tactic, either wise or brash,
Could make her relinquish her evil grip.

Then one eventful summer afternoon,
When I hit, with horror, across the fence,
Our last coverless ball, (found in some field)
Fate took a course that changed history’s tune.
The loss obliged me to make recompense
To my friends for the witch’s total yield.

The witch was gone out – I could make a raid,
Across the fence, then quickly back again.
That it could be done was a proven fact.

I was too desperate to be afraid.
For our last ball I would face deathly pain.
Should I be caught in the heinous act,
I was instructed to eat our prize ball,
Swallow it so doctors would have a chance
To retrieve it, should my body be found.
(If anything remained after my fall)

So, I scaled the fence, and went at a prance,
Across the most unholy of all ground.
Our ball lay before her open garage,
Like a jewel guarded by some sleeping beast,
Who at the very least would give me pox.

I stooped down, but was stopped by a mirage,
A baseball-playing boy’s greatest eye feast -
Years of missing balls in a cardboard box!

I returned a boy of legend, a knight,
Celebrated with a box full of fame,
Conqueror of a witch’s petty hate!

We played ball again – victors versus spite!
Though, we often heard her dry-throated blame,

Well, you dirty little thieves, just you wait!

The Mighty Chief of Timberoo

The mighty chief of Timberoo
Was proud as proud can be.
He strutted where the large crowds grew,
Where everyone might see.

His portrait hung in every house,
Attesting to his fame.
Every subject, from man to mouse,
Owed allegiance to his name.

All men looked to the chief for rule.
All women praised his grace.
Children swore his oath in school.
All people dreamed of his face.

He was the mighty chief of Timberoo,
As proud as proud can be,
Shepherd to all sheep, but a few,
Granting all but liberty.

And then one day, we’ve been told,
He fell from his high place.
Men who’d come by much more gold,
Sold him to disgrace.

Then the mighty chief of Timberoo
Was sad as sad can be.
Other chiefs, now, who are you?
Nothing at all, you see!

So Sure Was the Leader

So sure was the leader at the head of the band,
Onward, intrepid soldiers! Here let’s make a stand!
To defend the purpose of gods and malfeance of men!
Don’t breathe yet! I’ll tell you when.

But still the world turned.

"I am confused as to my place in the scheme,"
Cooed a dove from the gloom.

"The moon is coming soon," a frog crooned his theme,
In the midst of pending doom.

And a cricket fiddled while the stars burned.

Who Will Soothe Her Aching Feet

The weary world came tumbling down,
As the devil ranted die!
He rent our Lady Liberty’s gown,
With a great dismaying cry.

In a vicious stoke of evil’s might,
He tried to strip her of her pride.
But her children rallied to her plight,
Gathering faithfully at her side.

Kindred of her noble creed,
Created to be ever free,
Knelt before her in her need,
To hear their mother’s solemn plea.

Who will calm her troubling fears?
Who will mend her hurt?
Who will wipe away her tears,
And wash away the dirt?

Who will lend a helping hand
To thwart the dogs at bay?
Who will take a certain stand?
Who will win the day?

Onward then to wage her war!
The souls of our fathers entreat!
Who will soothe her aching feet,
And bring her peace once more?

Fire Lake

When the sparks of intifada transpire,
And ignite a wave of hateful desire,
The flames of rage grow higher and higher,
And reason is lost in a lake of fire.

Fueled to the core, in murder they partake.
Midst fumes of sulfur, tied fast to a stake,
In feverish anger, souls churn and bake,
And burn to ashes in a fire lake.

The Dogs of War

Who will tether the dogs of war,
What firm yet gentle hand?
Who at last will even the score!
What foe will take a stand!

Who will allay the hunger pangs!
What spurn the savage track!
Who will pull the ravenous fangs!
What heart dares brave the pack!

Who desires to sit quietly by,
In meadows where white rabbits play,
When the dogs of war all sleeping lie,
And the bones are buried faraway?

Proud Princess Sassy Pie
(A Nursery Rhyme)

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Sweet little thing!
Apple of her mother’s eye!
Give that girl a golden ring!

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Didn’t get her way.
Listen to poor Sassy cry.
Send sweet Sassy out to play.

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Strode through the town,
Looking no one in the eye,
Parading in her finest gown.

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Scolds her mother for the rain.
Sassy wants to know just why,
Sometimes her wishes are in vain.

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Frowns at the worms on the walk,
Dismisses them with a sigh.
Sassy has no time to talk!

Proud Princess Sassy Pie,
Lives in castles in the air.
But someday Sassy Pie shall die,
And then the worms will have their share.

Seven Souls of Santa Monica

Boy in baggy pants soiled by street dust

I dance to escape all worry,
With an effort all mortals should laud.
With body and soul in a flurry,
I dance that the world will applaud.

Girl swaying slowly with a microphone

I sing my glory aloud,
Unsurpassed by any voice before.
I sing down to the crowd,
Intimate yet proud,
Whose attention I want yet deplore.

Vagrant man wearing orange plastic women’s slippers

I am an invisible man,
Without a body or name.
The masses pass me by,
Sometimes wondering why -
And this is my claim to fame.

Woman who looks no one in the eyes

I walk to be seen,
Sensual and lean,
Dressed in my gaudy gown,
Impeccably clean,
Cunning and mean,
Queen of a haughty frown.

Man with a big wooden cross

For God I live!
His message I give,
In a fervor born of his love.
For my brothers I care!
I desire to share
His bounteous blessings above.

Grizzled old fellow with a broken-headed drum

My beat is unsteady, I know.
But I ignore the disdaining smile,
I play my tune for a while,
Before it is time to go.

Boy of pink spiked hair and a jacket with demonic symbols

Get out of my way!
I’m in no mood to play,
Though my skateboard is tucked under my arm.
I feel angry inside.
But aside from my pride,
I’m not sure what has done me harm.

Man with dilated pupils rambling on the curbside

Oration is my opiate.
I speak of remedies to deal with fate.
With trembling hands, I gesticulate
Words my tongue cannot articulate.

It Must Be the Season

          She loathes me!
          She loathes so hot!   

          She loathes me!
          But she’s all I’ve got.

It must be the season.
Here she goes again -
Anger without reason.
Don’t ask her to explain.

When she gets snappy,
Let her win the fight!
Would you rather be happy?
Or would you rather be right?

Promises of Glass

When I dwelt in a haze of innocence,
For endless days, gazing with crystal eyes,
In a whimsical daze of ignorance
Beyond all inclination to surmise
Else but happy promises more intense
Than my crude tongue had syllables to size,
I formed my perception in a semblance
Of translucent windowpanes stained with lies.

But one night I dreamed at last I would die -
Slip soundly into sleep and never wake.

Bliss is not the basis of every dream.
In waking, I find I cannot deny
That all promises of glass someday break,
And not every poem has a happy theme.

When You Are Wise With Death

Look no further, confounded friend,
  For your ticket to eternity.
There is no first-class chariot to the end -
  Admission is free.
Reality finds you wherever you go.
  Take freely your breath.
Soon mystic morons’ bickering shall be done.
  Accept what you don’t know as what you don’t know.
When you are wise with death,
  Then belief and truth shall become as one.

Should Someone Learn the Lessons Gone Before

Measure the race-long vein, the sordid stain;
  All vain strivings heaped by humankind,
And reason shall find an absence of gain
  Beyond a bane of the rational mind.
Sores of misbegotten religious creeds,
  Power-mad fiends sure-damning all who live,
All amount to the sum of nothing more
  Than scores of forgotten foolhardy deeds.
What blessed bounty would progression give,
  Should someone learn the lessons gone before!

Stainglass Images

Where do you wander, errant knight,
In adamant hope of success?
What noble deed inspires your flight?
What fight does your effort address?

Is life really what you esteem?
Or is illusion what you know?
Have you added up all you dream?
Shall you truly reap what you sow?

Are you sure that you shall arise
At the end of your enterprise?
The moment before you die,
Cast your gaze up to the sky,

When stainglass images of light
In your mind are all that remain,
And the cold fragments of your plight
Settle down around you like rain.

When Chaos Sweeps Will To Obscurity

My resolve falters, and my longings cease
  Pursuing the end to which artists make
Token lipservice passages of peace.
  Tired of creation for creation’s sake,
Knowing that in the hollow of my hands
  I hold no more than mere words to hide in,
Ever blinded by false security -
  As ants set order to temporal sands,
Only to suffer effort blown to sin,
  When chaos sweeps will to obscurity.

Shadows and Sand

    We are only shadows and sand,
Blending into deepening shades of dusk.
    We are fire in mystery’s hand,
Fragrance of bloom lost to decay’s stale musk.

    We are vague promises broken,
Form and motion that time will soon rescind.
    We are secrets vainly spoken,
Rumors on the dusty tongue of the wind.

The Quickening

When the elements conspired against me,
Rattling at the door,
Trying the tightest window seams,
Testing the roof and the ceiling beams,
And in a thunderous acrimony,
Assailed the garden floor,
There dispatching the sweet peas offhand
To a cruel and senseless death,
Taunting in roaring reprimand,
Howled they with heaving breath,

Behold our might!
Rage fills our goblet to the brim!
We stab our fiery pikes at the mountain height!
We sway the oaks at whim!

We know you are inside.
We see you in your shelter shuttered.
We hear your feeble prayers muttered.
You can run for a while, but you cannot hide.
__________

I stood before the belligerent night,
And lifted my eyes on high.
And I raged back,
In counterattack,

I shall soon subside,
As you.
But I will storm while I am able!

In Consequence of Truth

Destroy my flesh, but invincible is my soul!
Thwart my ambitions, but inalienable is my goal!

Squeeze the song from my throat.
Tear the words from my tongue.
Yet from mouths of innocence, note,
Unadulterated notes are sung.

Make falsehood the law of state.
Give perjury the only debate.

Still, babes, with innate cries,
Shall claim their divine right
To declare fact the greatest might,
Looking ever to sky and stars with longing eyes,

Till veracity, in tireless attrition,
Rallies his victory to fruition

Against infidels to freedom and youth,
And with a silver ax severs all diseased heads.
Then old liars, palsied on their death beds,
Shall succumb with their sins in consequence of truth.

The Mold Room

In a damp room,
With molded paper,
On walls of foreign confines,
We drew pictures of bright futures,
There in the gloom.

With an innocent taper,
We illuminated what truth defines,
And sealed it to our souls with golden sutures.

I said, "All roads lead to nowhere!
What’s a traveler to do?"

You said, "That’s no reason to despair.
Any avenue, any skew!
Let’s choose random paths leading anywhere,
Maybe blaze new trails, and see if we get through."

When our innocence yearned,
And our passion burned,
We vowed to walk on air,
To our courses stay true,
Of life take a share,
And at least enjoy the view.

In a faraway room,
Behind a gray curtain,
We dreamed and conspired,
Surrounded by doom.

Though uncertainty alone was certain,
To lofty ways we aspired.

Our Own Fate

Sorry are the fools,
Who find out too late,
We can’t change the rules,
But we make our own fate.

Should There Follow a Kingdom

Seekers of reward
Trade their hours for jewels.
Greed is soon buried beneath a hoard
Of other rich fools.

Courters of reknown
At last find that fame
Is little more than a paper crown
On a pauper’s name.

Cumbling castles of sand
Are the wages of power.
Walls of pride briefly stand,
But falls the highest tower.

Nothing in life is sure.
But he who follows wisdom
Does his glory secure,
Should there follow a kingdom.

Silly Sparrows

Why squabble for gravel in the field?
Why fight in the dust, silly sparrows,
When you might seek a more lofty yield,
Soaring heaven’s vast height like arrows!

Six Meditations in the Face of Hesitation

I.

Though the armies of folly array,
Their dogmas in dogged display,
All foolishness at last shall fail,
And wisdom over all prevail.

II.

Fear and lies are my enemy.
Truth alone can set me free.

III.

Truth is the heart of the soul,
That no mortal law can control.

IV.

Be resolute in your quest for learning.
Be cautious of the direction of your yearning.

V.

Hear all arguments and weigh them through,
In case you might find something new.

VI.

How shall I gain exaltation?
Man rises on the shoulders of man.
Therefore I must do what I can
To bring my brothers’ emancipation.

And in the Night

And in the night when the wind calls,
What tune shall it blow?
What turn shall it take?
Which direction go?

And in the night when the rain falls,
What flower shall grow?
What seed might wake?
What hand may sow?

And in the night when the dark comes,
What beacon shall glow?
What light divine?
What wisdom show?

And in the end when the cold numbs,
What river shall flow?
What sun shall shine?
Does anyone know?

Shadows and Dust

Lift your eyes, O humanity!
Above your pride and vanity!
You are but a transient endeavor,
Tossed in the timeless tides of forever!

For what is it that my soul pines
In this darkness to understand!
What mystical riddle defines
These lines in the palm of my hand?
What sublime alchemy divines
The meaning of rumors and sand?

Who vexes me with restless sleep?
From which awareness cannot wake!
Is my only question too deep?
Or the answer too hard to take?
In veracity, would I weep?
Or would my heart with rapture break?

What loss passes before my eyes!
And all the gods but misspent trust!
O what is there in truth but lies!
What am I but shadows and dust!

Thoughts While Lying on My Back in a Snowbank

Microbe in a drop of water in my eye,
Do you see me as well as I see you?
Can you look through the blue iris that is your sky,
And perceive as well as I what is false or true?

Perhaps you are too small to see.
You would understand, too,
If you were great like me,
And I were minuscule as you.

What is this you whisper of relativity,
Of understanding the concept of place,
Our relationship with infinity,
The universal principle of endless space,

And how one world fits inside another,
All linked in all, and all in transition!
I suppose, in a way, you are my brother.
I believe I’m beginning to see your position.

The Candle Burned

The candle burned bright on the windowsill,
Flame flickering shapes from some mystical spark,
Till the drapes parted in sudden surprise.

Observe how lights embark
In smoking lies.

Who will know the room is dark,
When the night is still?

Echoes of Past Voices

Overhead the setting sun hangs motionless upon the sky,
Thinking of the scenes it shined on yesterday;
Time that passed away in wisps like smoke before a blinking eye,
The who and why just left along the way.

I stand before the rising tide, and cast my gaze to open sea,
Beyond the waves that stretch before my finite reach of hand.
Here I dream of what has been, and what in coming days shall be;
That passes between my fingertips like grains of shapeless sand.

High above, the fleeting clouds, in shapes I can’t identify,
Float listlessly across the painted eve.
Swooping low a seagull cries an ancient dreamer’s lullaby,
Whose notes forgotten memories aggrieve.

Soft against the rising night, the lingering thoughts of daylight bring,
From distant shores, and yet so very near,
Echoes of past voices that in melodies of chaos sing,
As wind might whisper unto a listening ear.

Supplication to the Soulless Wind

I observe with sorrow the day setting,
In that endless instant when time stands still,
Yesterday forgetting, morning fretting,
Surrendering hope to a greater will.

Bowing my head with the dimming sunset,
Laden to breaking beneath mortal weight,
I am moved to a deep state of regret
That no articulation might relate.

I would find some consolation knowing
The meaning, if any, of my brief life -
Perhaps resolve my doubt before going;
The purpose of pain, suffering, and strife.

Am I only a spark of random chance,
Kindled for a moment of mystery;
The light of a miraculous trance,
Shining through the darkness of history?

My spirit has become stark and forlorn,
Parched and barren, in vast dunes of despair,
To think that tender flowers might be born
Only to wither in the desert air.

Do the fires of stars a deity define?
Or shall the light at last sputter and die?
Shall the most flawless of all gems shine
Admired not by some great adoring eye?

Shall the order of all things be esteemed
The object of confusion’s random stand?
Or meaningless chaos filled and redeemed
By some creator’s omnipotent hand?

Overseer of all heavenly order,
Does your lot forbid compassion and love
For the lowly souls within your border,
Who prayerfully seek guidance from above?

Surely the law with blood lust is sodden,
That grants the merciless a divine leave
To vanquish the weak and the downtrodden -
Survival of the fittest to achieve.

Pray thee, look me straight in my bleeding heart,
And tell me I amount to more than mud,
Your designs some higher justice impart,
That you are guiltless of innocent blood!

Someday in enlightened joy arriving,
With a concurring judgment, let me say
Life was comprised of more than vain striving
And the futile suffering for a day.

Let the omnipotent powers that be,
Not falter in their effort to be fair!
Let the supreme will that created me,
Either gods or chance, harken to my prayer!

And chaos and creators refusing
The edict of their silence to rescind,
I shall account this meaningless musing
As supplication to the soulless wind.

Epitaphs of Alabaster

Now slumbers away the peerless flower.
Wilts to obscurity the crimson rose.

Sleeps the sentient heart in calm’s bower.
Silent all troubles in tranquil repose.

Now bows low the golden grass in season.
And droops the head without certain reason.

Mortal consequences all dreams impeach.
Vain spoken are the vows that lovers make.

Full are the spirits who life’s riddles know.
Free is the soul without chain or master.

Now glides a star beyond night’s finite reach,
Leaving a token of light in the wake.

Still the sad tears! Well I know why they flow
Upon epitaphs of alabaster.

Death Smiles

Death smiles on everyone,
With a broad, nefarious grin.
He rattles the doorknob just for fun,
As he grimly saunters in.

All one can do is hand him a cup,
And fill it to the brim,
Then take a bow, and step right up,
And grin right back at him.