Blinded by darkness



Blinded by darkness


Oh! Night serene.  Oh! Calm of day.

I chase you gallantly granted by the pull of pensive enticement wrapped in a blanket of shadows.

The waltz never ends.

My moon chases me into daylight and my sun chases me into darkness.

A never ending dance where the twinning never meets and a trail of each other is the only trail

of stardust, they can see.

The black canvas of night whispers and boast that he gave birth to the stars which cannot be

seen in the illusion of day.

A veritable magician at work repeating the same magic for millennia that have passed valiantly

into memories.

A star scratches against the sky leaving no light of showering the sky with tiny fireflies.

A script written on the tablets of times intertwines on the earth plane the concept of light and


In light we feel all that is pure is explicit to enlighten, and all that is dark is foreboding, and gives

rise to evil, the presence of shadows with dark taking our hands and leading us astray or is it a

myth that is generational.

Dark and light a metaphoric usage born in the cauldron of humanity gripped by static mentality.

Secrets behind closed doors have taken place in the mirror of nothingness which has no color.

Light too bright to look at.

Dark too deep to contemplate.

Both swirling in our heads.

Dark book, light book,

Blind people,

A dispensary of tow works

Its neighbors unforeseen.

Dark and light hold hands on the earth plane melded into one.

Joy and sorrow but two state we live by enmeshed with tears to express each other.

Out of light thoughts are birthed, out of darkness thoughts are birthed as well.

When all is asleep,

That is when we are blinded by darkness.




Whispered Screams



Whispered Screams



I watched the sand of silence sift through the fingers of my life.


The waves of my essence battered against the rock of my spirit.


I became suspended in the illusion of astral vibrations.


Vibrations that prophetically eroded an infinity of time through the invisible


tide of hope.


The sea whispered secrets to the dawn of continuous frames.


Frames that transpired no paintings of dreams in the mirror of reality.


The fear of death nor the pain of life can divide me from my garment of




Behind iron bars I am only a prisoner of gravity enchained by limited




The moon seduced the still waters to run like the breeze against the shores of


my youth.


Time has tempered the fire that drank from the riverbanks of tranquility and




I must wipe the ice that drips poetry from its lips.


My graves of Whispered Screams resurrected from the dust will soar on the


wind of four seasons until they rest once again.


What appeared was not so – What I saw was not there and what was there I


did not see.



Clinging to life



Clinging to life


A spark of curiosity lands me on your doorstep with the power of a raised eyebrow in an

unkempt universe.

Behind the windows of trapped essences which engage the keyboard of suffocating walls that

are closing in on humanity,

An observant eye plays the victim in support of the cause with a wink from the ether telling us

that all is forgiven,

With the recoiling of sage passages into the underground which is cursed with a dragonfly’s

blood to taste.

And I rushed a swimming thought onto a platter of refreshing humanity, that takes a bite out of


The fumbling of casting actors with the masks that fall and pounce on the thugs of society in a

precocious and dangerous season,

A chirping in the farthest nebula upon the strokes of midnight displays a song that floats where

there is a sway in the hour, and

Spirit erases our memory in a moment of fractal sensibility sanctioned by a fuse of feverish


An incineration of thoughts through the lenses of spiritual growth occurs, when behind a

Gossamer’s veil that she camouflages her intents in ambiguity,

The chorus of nobility with moments that intrude upon an impression rotates in a spin of

undressing the essence:

A reminder that mediates a definition that suddenly seems archaic.

The passageway of eternity is not to buy into the myth with an accidental jury deliberating.

The archaeological history’s tablets written by the flame of the finger cuts through the hardness

of endurance.

The traveling grayness sweeps across your sky letting it rain on your landscape and the wetness

grips you once again.

Smudges of your past rear a celebration as a reminder of wanderings gone awry.

A social expression of unworthiness does war on the battlefields with challenges unforeseen.

And the tentacle of life adheres to sentiments.

They can only be separated when death delivers your garment of flesh to the earth once again

in a duplicity of life.

This is when we know we no longer cling to life.





Perpetual hourglass



Perpetual hourglass


Bury me in the depths of your soul

Playing into my framed origami happiness

While listening to my soul flutter with the essence of peace

Like fallen angels that elevate me with broken wings

Flying pass the labels sequestered into finite language

Flying pass the hate that consumes the fire of serenity

The violence that we knead like unleavened bread

That carries to the wind the essence of brokenness

Washing our hands in spring water

Hoping the stains of humanity will be cleansed

The innocent always pays with the ego of others

And their chameleons of life spare them from blame

That winds against the falling petals keeping time within the toxic perpetual hourglass

Coming to the surface for air

Wind dried in darkness

A spark against the black canvas

Feeling the freedom

Feeling the cradle of Nirvana

Feeling the breath of love

Feeling nothing





Whispers from the other side



Whispers from the other side


When death occurred,

you spoke from behind the veil.

And when you touched my essence,

I shivered in my step.

I knew

when I connected the goosebumps,

you were speaking to me,

not speaking,

but feeling.

You touched my soul

you brushed against my cheek,

and I shivered in my step once again.

As I speak behind my veil to you,

and the ancient voices are calling

like a beautiful haunting song

which beckons me,

to fill the ache,

of longing to go home.

Behind the veil,

I shivered in my step,

when I felt you.