alice dawdles, the day is long…

a rabbit runs, the puzzle forms…

what happens when this girl,

eats the mushroom, to grow colossus?

the muse is in the sky,

giving light to the graying eye,

shadow of enormity, gives contrasts

making a world in itself,


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shadow silhouettes speak:

(from the tiled corner) swallow it all.

the bathroom a cocoon:

where madness walked aloof,

I changed, when prides great statue

carved immaculate in the mind, crumbled

from a whisper:

I want to live.

the liquors grasp, like a ghost lingered.

I changed, with tears, and words

like the moon accepting the morning,

I found peace in others, and courage

in giving, but my hold was fleeting. Fear,

a flame dwindles,

shadow silhouettes still dancing

in the houses of delirium,

came solace, in cold floors,

at the end of faux cigarettes,

behind the chatter of delusion,

I changed:

to accept the moons woe,

letting go, and letting

morning show,

I changed.

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I got this,

I know the way:

like weeds covers the path…

I’ve fallen in the bramble I planted,

tripped over the roots they sprouted,

now on the cold floor of the psych ward,

washed in rusted yellow walls..that talk of melancholy

no not me, I kneel to pluck the weeds

and see the path the sun lent me, as golden bars

enclose gently a storm I crafted

I don’t hear an angel, but feel the comfort of a halo

as the locked mechanics doors, the screams

homeless tirades and the choirs of the restless

melt to contentment, I am free.

was it god?

my singular hope, my wish

is to know when the path has been cleared

until then I will rattle the bars of the cage,

with my song, to harbor those with tired eyes

with this peace, I got freely

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there is a dragon in my chest

large and red.

I tasted an ocean,

with a desert tongue.

it turned out to be chisel

with my hammer,

that drowned his cave.

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i choose

today I choose faith, a hunger subtle as the breeze

where is the God of choice, a change of faces,

a flip of the coin. Eat the fruit they say. So here,

under the Mellow sun I sit with open hands.

take the conviction and baptize the cornered brain

take it, the self, melt it and god will free me,

like water in a thorned labyrinth. Crowned in stars

I walk with clear eyes to the trees, seeing it all. Alive

after the battle, finally.

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i pray to you

(God) Or Who else?

everything: a bridge of bramble grows

or doubt: Empty coliseum

where will the storm sprout,

i ask humble? *take away my difficulties

for freedom, i choose everything (in doubt)

let the storm fill me.


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Plot Bunny #3

A cobbled square sat in the middle of a town, much like any town. Wide and open, with all the stores lined up around it, crooked teeth that had a uniformity of Byzantine design. A flare for flamboyance that was smoothed out by the stones to a pearly white. At the corner, between the smithy and the barren wall that kept the poor from entering, was a little shop. It had but one window, that framed the wide open courtyard, elevated by a mere three steps. While the bustle of daily consumption filled the square, with the pungent fragrance of garlic, incense, smoke, sweat and flowers merging, those three stairs sat eagerly for a guest. It was quite known around town, that Hamlets bookstore was without a doubt the loneliest of stores. Rumors from shaking heads, and passerby’s just enlarged the myth with every new mention, until it was almost forgotten. Inside was a young mind, the captain of the tomes, who shepherded the dust that wisdom tends to collect in quiet.

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Lime Tree, Part 2

Lime Tree
6years at post,
Waiting for the animals to go home.
Naive at the carnivals delight,
That kept her there,
Afraid to challenge the dancing bears,
Feet beginning to grow roots,
A nest was founded on the shoulders,
Creaky in the joints,
Almost stone, must wait
Must wait some more,
Not an animal to tame,
The time from outside,
Built a statue inside,
When will the loyal, committed
Be given a place?
Will the wait be forever?
This guard will not falter,
The duty is a pleasure,
Will today be the day Her lovely face,
Commits the same?
To give strength again.
To melt away the collection of dust,
That had settled in every thought,
Will the view ever come?
Has the joys at the carnival, the masquerade, dressed him
To a dull sight,
When the wait has grown like vines,
Loyalty, commitment
Oaths of the knight
To her, wrapping him around her finger,
Will it be forever?

Posted in art, poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized, unrequited love

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