Poetry is art
But a poke of scars
A rash appreciated
By many, and hated

By many, and rated
By many, contemplated
By many, and made in
Many many, modules

Poetry by Me

I would have liked to accomplish
So much more than I did
Now I am but an accomplice
Bliss leaves its bids

I would have liked a stream or
A sudden burst to speak for
My speed is weak - antique floors
Reek of shallow death.

I would have liked your malice
So much better was it good
On the fashion it held its chalice
It was more than I understood

I understand more than I crave for
It goes in hand with all demands
And the demons of my behavior
That on this island strands.

Me in a vent of steam
Shining through as red rubies gleam
Dear to me, the fleeting feelings
I appeal to another kin

Another kind of fiend divine
Now my friends all left me standing
At the fleet of mountains climbed
By amends adept and banned in

Foreign lands where I come from
Came from after going there
Thus this note is not a quote
And a song of my despair

Poetry by Me

For when there is one
There must be a too
An even choice in many
In mind few

It is no savored secret
It is nothing I knew
It is simply my meager
Point of view

Poetry by Me

All the wonder of this world
When, I wonder?
Is absurd

A plate of waffles does me feed
Abrupt and peacefully
Oh so easily

Yet peace is rare inside our world
Peace is something sacred
It seems to me the scar of herds
Seizelessly mates hate and makes dread

And this I do not kindly know
Yet there is nothing to be done
For in the end there must be truth
Even when war is one

Poetry by Me

When all fails all
Else is but a spore
Of metaphors

Poetry by Me

Is there something beyond beyond?
What goes deeper than my backyard pond?
I see the fish swim of which I am fond
And yet there's a darkness below

If they dove down into this darkness
Where would the little fish go?
Would they spawn on another planet
Would anyone ever know?

Where my little fish swam
Or would they be forgotten, fading to abyss?
Any life is a better life
Unaltered bliss as this

Poetry by Me

There is a willow
Down by the water
It does remind me
Of times that passed

It seems it swallows
All but tomorrow
All fears that bother
It mends the grass

That grow beside it
That try to climb it
It seems to playfully
Let them reach

Up on it's stem
Then it grows higher
Into the sky
And out of reach

All the children
They like to climb up
And it lets them
Sit on its branch

Beside the river
Of gritt and grime it
Leads it's own life
A steep romance

It doesn't wither
Though it grows old
It's thick roots slither
Deep in the cold

The soil that binds it
And there it stays
I'll think I'll visit
The will today

Poetry by Me

The rivers flow at an astounding rate
They never close down or slow their pace
Always constant they tame the race
A spray of ozone impounds their gates

The rivers flow is both grand and great
Their splinters run down in rows of age
Always suddle, sometimes wide with rage
Wild and seizeless, a child amazed

The rivers flow blocked by moats and damms
The river sides both surrounded by land
The river lingers and still moves on
Out to the sea from the mountain strong

With water unsalty, with water so new
It sparkles in the sun and shines brightly blue
Always on my mind when my own day is grey
The rivers ravish and run, away

Poetry by Me

If the darkness is dark
We on journeys embark
With the shadows of name
In our ambition to claim

All that floats by our ark
All the visions we tame
In our rolls we are stark
As the trolls raging sane

If the brightness is bright
We do siftle the light
We stay still and do fight
For the future in grasp

If it holds nothing more
Than the visions we hope
Will one day reach our lore
Of ambition and folk

Will reach out to us
And touch us
And scream out
Our names

And we will not only
Find riches
But rise
To great fame

If our role played
Is right played
Our sight payed
Much

But if we do not
Ask nicely
We might just
Reach up

To another role
Of models
And form ourselves
Another

That can let our soul
Rise higher
Into the grates
Of eden

And if it doesn't boost us
Then we can mold it down
Down into the mold that mounds
On the barren ground

Poetry By Me

I don't tend to forget
The people that I met
Lifetimes ago
Those lifetimes ago

Then I took the next step
To the next life and outlet
Of resource on hold
The voids I have sold

My soul in control
My mind is backspin
Retank at the bank
And thank myself in

To the groupies of grim hippies
Hiding in times to come
The tidings of rebirth
They make us so dumb

Poetry By Me