Tuesday, January 31, 2012

For Dragon's Blood

…And so the days of spring have ended
With the right to mend suspended
Healing vows rescinded
As winter comes we all have been sentenced
To a life without…dragon’s blood

…And so the sovereign ruler of all that is
Paces frantically the ins and outs of all that’s his
Broken hymns of praise now echo each end of the prism
As the numbers of the kingdom dwindle down to this
Where the graveyards once hallowed have since obtained fullness
In a world without…dragon’s blood

To the runes the leader dwells
Offers the deity’s his soul to sell
Despite the voices heard in rumored tells
He’s not the vicious ruler their words would spell
Something he knew must be unshelled
To alleviate the hell of damnation’s tolling bells
In a frozen realm, without…dragon’s blood

…And so, in a singular procession
The healthy venture out upon this final proposition
Where it’s not the strongest or the bravest aggregation
Set to live out their ritual of obligation
Led by the king they fought both snow and icy contradictions
Where the early indication offered the bleakest premonition
Yet forth they battled in a ruthless pursuit of obsession
For…dragon’s blood

The blood of the dragon, an elixir for every ill
Under the roughest scales, beast flesh lies still
Beneath tough skin, it’s here where the holy river fills
And to pierce the exterior only the sacred blade can spill
Else the blood of a dragon is but the blood of a kill
Prayers must be spoken as blades held high with deepest skill
Paying tribute to this ancient elder as blade meets sigil
Then holding tight before the flow, as a final thanks is paid to Yggdrasil
For providing…dragon’s blood  

It's Tuesday, and that means a fresh edition of Open Link Night over at D'Verse.  Make sure you stop on by to check out some wonderful poetry and while you're there share one of your own.  Cheers.

Monday, January 30, 2012


I’ve been riding
A wave of indigestion
With every single thought
Breaking through
Breaking in
I can’t stop feeling
I can’t stop
Seeing how this will end

The highs, the lows
The valleys and the peaks
Flashing hot
Before me here
I can see the joy,
Yet I see the agony still

Been tight-roping
Across the straws
Not the bendy kind

Been breeding fire
Way down deep

Been having trouble
Not falling asleep

I see the crutch
I cling on to

I grab the noose
Where it hangs
Yet the chair won’t budge
Before the sky falls in

I’ve been riding
A wave of indigestion
Through the good and the bad
Each step I take
By flame I’ve been had

Been riding
A wave of indigestion
It’s been so long
I’d forgotten
The ending to this song

Linked to Imaginary Garden With Real Toads.  Stop by and see who else linked up.

Sunday, January 29, 2012


There’s been an enormous shift in crustaceous earth.
There’s been a radial procurement in alien craft discovery.
There’s been found to be, clandestine operations using radioactive ants, enlarged to the size of bison, which will attack upon command.

Strip away; strip away
The fraudulent,
Strip away; strip away
There’s a vacancy in covenant
Between man and his fellow man

And so the sparks fly
And a song has the melody, even the tonal qualities reminiscent of the beautiful ballads used as backdrop soundtracks to the most tender of the famous Hollywood kisses ever seen.
But the song, we soon find out, is for the lack of heart.
And the words, when listened closely, can be understood, to not symphonize love, but instead, to ode the darkest side of humanity, our hatred and our blight.

Between the lies and hate, somewhere in between, I still have faith in love and fate.  Deep inside, I still believe in the eternal dream.  I must, for if I should stop, then tell me, “What purpose is left to be?”

Saturday, January 28, 2012

The Feeding

Is it feeding time again?
         So soon, so soon
         So soon, so soon

Are you really hungry; is it really time?
Is your last digestion even done?

Glutton…Glutton, you pig
Stuffing-stuffing, again & again
You scream to feast, you cry to eat
Were the warnings right; are you truly a beast?

You curl your talons, sharp and straight
Saliva drips your mangled face
Heartbeats race as plate’s erased
It’s frightening to see
         The remains of a years harvest rest at your feet

Is it a case of metabolism notched too high?
Or is it a case of pure hunger, living deep inside?

How to quench; how to stop?
An appetite that rests for none
And I fear what shall become
When the rations end,
I cringe to be around you then

The Case of the Wounded Bird

Fly, flutter, flutter, And Fly
Flutter, Fly, fly, flutter, flutter, fly
Fly, Fly, fly, fluttering, flying, fluttering, fluttering, fly
Did I stutter, fly away
Fly-fly, fly
Flying high.
Flutter, flutter, fly, fly, flutter, flutter fly
Away, away

To heights so high
The sky is endless
If you fly
And if you can’t,
Then flutter, flutter fast.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Ghost Orchard

Three days from here
A ghost orchard lives

A border of wrought iron,
As would be seen, ironically,
In a cemetery, conceals

The specters within,
From the ghouls outside
Beyond the fence

With eternity on their side,
Time is a non-concept, it
Just is

Without a purpose to pander toward,
Meandering is the common activity
Of an entire species unseen

Where lifeless living does abound
The reddest of apples tend to

Parkside Girl (Gameday Skate)

Faded jeans,
Dark Home Roy #9
A multi-colored backpack,
Like the kind you’d find in school

Long brown hair with braids adrift 
Out from beneath that old green Rastafarian headwear
Skips from the road up through the hill
Dispersing dewdrops with her steel-tipped toes

On the path she walks the side again
Five steps forward in cyclical succession
Pause.  Observe. Understand.  Spin around.  Breathe and count to 10
This could be everyday…this could become routine to take this all in

Squinted smile on a barefaced pale
She winces as she streamers past the trees
Waving gently to the squirrel within
Up the bark that’s come to life…

Scurrying…scurrying through the disco painted leaf shade light
11 times she’d leap high to sky…like a baby bird’s 1st real flight,
 On a lark, whimsy free…not caring how soon the night turns dark
It’s in the nature all around…where if one looks, one will be found