Anchored Beacons

Dew swept wind hills of May morning
Captured moments in sprinkled droplets
That begged passers by to be collected.
We knew to wait another hour or two
Before stepping into their damp tracks
Lest we become entranced by their tales.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys.

Tiny beetles feasted in the chaotic morning,
Their shells glittered in the gloss of droplets.
When the night's trouble was collected
They'd disguise themselves in a minute or two
Before the songbirds could recite hunting tracks.
It was finally safe to leave our sacred cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.

The glorious warmth of a sunny morning
Reflected in our eyes like twinkling droplets
Of youthful hope. It was our courage collected,
Shared and displayed between only us two,
That we may complete our pilgrimage together
No matter the troubled ground we may cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin.

A journey of miles, trudged through a morning.
Stepping rhythmic, drenched in sweated droplets
And woefully feigning we were calm and collected.
Fear was painted behind our mission worn mask
As we checked the mapped route together,
Arguing the shorter path as we replaced it's cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin,
Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity.

Legs aching from the endless walking morning,
Bodies craving sustenance, but surviving on droplets
Tipped from the final flask of water, and of hope.
You snatched the final sip, cracking under your mask.
It seemed we'd outlasted our journey together,
Our separateness apparently hidden under cover.

Humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin,
Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity:
Those who fought for the beauty within us all.

We parted with the last seconds of the morning,
Silently wishing the other would reconsider.
Survival now was only built on an anchor of hope
That outlived the violence and psychological masks.
Hope, that final chant uniting the distant together
In a melody no imposter was able to falsely cover.

For humanity bled memories into the valleys
Through the corpses of their fallen brothers.
So few survived when kin killed beloved kin,
Too many were martyred by man's monstrosity.
Those who fought for the beauty within us all
Are anchored beacons of hope in dirty waters.

Buying Happiness in Room 208

The cheap cotton shirt 
Rubbed on his plump neck 
As he sat on the edge of the bed
Watching her adjust her cheap polyester bustier. 
They’d discussed pricing. 
He’d already paid half. 
He was nervous, 
Hesitant, 
Didn’t think he could
So she cut him slack.

She pursed her lips 
And tugged at his zipper. 
When she was bobbing her head
He was positioned staring at the ceiling 
Unable to sit. 
Before long his face, 
Once a grimace, 
Glowed from completion. 
Slipping out another twenty, 
He passed her a tissue and left.

An Angel on Fire

The feathered wings smelt the worst,
Like plastic had fucked hair and created hatred.
The smoke those feathers created
Wrapped itself around every breath
And burned our tracheas raw.

At first, His visit was delightful,
But as judgment reigned on our indiscretion
The townsfolk yelled witch
And bound His wings with the rope
They bound their wives with at night.

We were entranced by the screams 
Just as we were oft enraptured in each other’s sex.
Gleefully we cheered melting skin,
And screwed as the fat charred,
Breathing in roasted celestial.

The final flames danced at the messengers’ feet
As townsmen recovered from climax,
And wives licked each other's wounds clean.
We satiated all violent and sexual desires,
The day we set the Angel on Fire.

Separate Duality

The states are incomparable,
The calculated intellectual,
Genius beyond all marks,
And the heartfelt emotive,
Embodiment of an empath.

Is this duality of self,
Truly inseparable in life?
Or are they humanities mark
Of man's bipolarity?

Does the intellectual function
Upon emotional grounds?
Or does the empath employ
Compassion upon reasoned basis?

Is true harmony expressed
Betwix the numerous lobes and Cortexes?
Or does one central focus
Outweigh the neurological development?

Is cognitive ability a separate,
Harmonious, isolated duality?

In The Rain

He stands in the rain,
Palms up to the sky,
and he SCREAMS.

Water rolls down his skin,
tracing new paths on old,
As the sky cries his tears.

His chesty breath, hitches,
says not but one word,
why?.. must the clouds collapse?

Does the sky know?
Is this pain mutual?
He just stands there.

All of lives work,
Summed up in one thing...
This man in the rain.

He begins to laugh,
perhaps it's insanity?
Or is he sanity in action?

I don't know for sure,
but there's one thing I do...
He just stands. In the rain.

Another

Glass in hand,
Tongue in mouth,
A poor excuse for an escape.


Glass in hand,
Liquor in mouth,
One fine way to drown it out.


Glass in hand,
Mind still thinks,
Maybe a bit faster will help.

​
Glass in hand,
Eyes glaze out,
More is needed to settle.


Glass in hand,
Thoughts command,
Just swallow pride before this one.
Glass on lip,
Eyes closed,
One more breath to swallow.


Glass on deck,
Another in mind,
Perhaps the thought will stop.


Glass on lip,
Liquor tips,
The heart begins to race


​​Glass on deck,
Burning neck,
Just one more to ease the pain.


​Glass on lip,
Feelings split.
It's time. To have another.