Acceptance.

The steady drip of rain
echoes of haunting youth
and emptiness of pain - 
its silence and its truth.
Yet still of angst extended
and calm of peaceful breath
and bliss of time suspended
embrace the kiss of death

View from the top

so climb with me.. 
            past these sanguine seas of slavery..
where truth and dreams mingle and meet, 
where the Gods are by our side, 
          and the world is at our feet.

Same poem. new style.

A blue alive paints a forbidden kingdom of graves once cold.....


And yet its hues mingle and die, 
and bow before your black night sky, 
as forests dance to this murderous rite, 
they seek your flame, 
they seek its rain tonight.....


Whilst angry skies cry bloody tears, 
and flood with colour these sanguine fears, 
they set your hungry eyes alight.....
so come hither beast, 
for I let you feast tonight. 

Waiting

The violence of shame, impulsive, 

                                       ungreys the skies that rain, 

and the silence of blame, repulsive, 

                                       screams out in hollow pain.

           

                  Tonight I let you feast, 

                  the broken and the beast, 

            while i untuned and numb await, 

            with myriad hues of unknown hate, 

                 the savagery of dawn, 

          WHEN I SHALL SING MY SONG......

Hope.

These blinking streetlights under skies alight
shall not bring you back to me tonight..
but the silence of a fading pain
and the numbness of forgotten rain, 
and echoes of a winter gone, 
shall surely, most surely bring the dawn..

Dead Roses

Dust dances in fading sunlight to tunes from broken wind chimes.
It cloaks these beds once crimson from endless shameless passions
in guilty greys of pain;
and from the empty blackness of my soul, 
a whispered question echoes across the silence of our pasts - 
pray, can you tell, if dead roses smell?
Or is it just that the thorns that lasts?