T’was the night before Christmas (Acrostic)

This is another acrostic not to be confused with T’was the night before Christmas (Parody) which will appear soon.


T’was the night before Christmas (Acrostic)


T – was the night

W – hen all went silent

A – nd

S – anta


T – ried

H – elplessly

E – very


N – umber

I – n

G – reat and small cities

H – ollering around the world

T – o


B – irds

E – verywhere

F – orwarding

O – verbearing

R – ecorded

E – xpressive


C – alls

H – anging up

R – eadily

I – nsisting

S – entiments

T – o have a

M – erry Christmas to

A – ll and to every

S – ingle person









Silent Night (Acrostic)







**** The most common and simple form of an acrostic poem is where the first letters of each line spell out the word or phrase.


Silent Night ( Acrostic )


S – ilence is

I – nviting

L – ove

E- verywhere and

N – ever

T – aking


N – o one for granted

I – n the

G –reatest

H – our of

T – heir humble lives



A child will meet me



A child will meet me


I ask that a child would meet me when the time to become a child again is at


I walked this weary world so long in the cloak of an old soul tampered by

time unshackled from a home I once knew and forgot.

On the search to know that I am in evasiveness of knowing that I am not.

The soul grows old and the flesh but the passage of a cruelty imposed upon


The graduation has come from a mortal coil which springs into the hand of a

child that meets me in a dream that never wakes.




When mirrors speak



When mirrors speak


The siren’s whisper is heard against the waves of secrecy.

Similarly, to a driftwood graveyard that strands itself on a streak from the tails of a shooting star.

A star that has gone wayward without the confines of rules.

The book of mirrors is written eloquently with a finger of fire on glass tablets that has shed

tears of reflection.

Birds to flight bring back stories of sails with no winds in the storm of chaos.

While the chiseled wings of angels cry in the rain pinning a medallion to universe’s


The sun’s warm essence gathers brothers and sisters with eyes weighing down from the weight

of sorrow only to have them open in awareness.

Humanity became perplexed with the apocalypse of mind that has governed humanity for years

bequeathing all liberties which is a veritable aberration to the soul.

And coming out of their drunken stupor they realized the peeling off of layers of history does

shed the darkness in the light.

A view to look at which sends shivers and tremors within infinity that takes all causes for

granted and reveals a life review.

The energy becomes perplexed with the stage of actors promoting a smoke screen thinking

they could hide in the wings of the scared stage looking back at the unique thumbprint of

playing chivalry to the end.

In the attic of your mind cobwebs of life are removed and clutched in the talons of sincerity.

I ache to leave the illusion in a delicate dream of leaving home with empty places knitted in the

fabric of destinations.

The obligatory whisper of infinity releases the energy that suddenly seems lighter with a flight


While the weight of bliss wraps itself around reality realizing in a glimpse of a distorted face

lingering around the edge of insanity.

An enthralled beating sense of freedom asserts a hurried breath and invites aspersions with a

continuous aspersion back into an elevated consciousness.

All on the defensive made to look in the crystal ball of the future regurgitating a life tarnished of

our own freewill.

The water reflects distorted imagery back to you in a shimmering realistic mirror of life.

And this is when mirrors speak.



MURDERING Yourself In Writing The Wrong Way Before You Start

Go Bare Maximum with Edgar Rider

Image result for murder chalk

The perfect way to extinguish yourself is to try to be like someone else.

The world needs different voices desperately. Not another known person we just need you.

If you try to copy people  you admire  you  have just murdered yourself the wrong way before you even started.

We often say to ourselves I want what they have. We admire people and want to be them. I want that Lexus and their house. I want their talent.  We are killing ourselves with that kind of thinking.

Why not be your own thing?  You never will be them anyway . So don’t even try. Start with your own distinct voice.  Only you can say it so keep practicing. It must become well defined .
The wrong way is to become somebody else.  The right way is obvious.

Image result for knife in back

The Right way  to murder your imitation is to become yourself.
“Do it until…

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The grace of shadows



The grace of shadows


Shadows dance behind my eyelids turning previews into search for a non-existent Terra Nova.

A thought impales itself upon a destructive power writing its own muse that crawls for the

depths of humor.

Remembering the lost and not forgetting my place of dishonor in society, being the pariah of

sharp tongues

While inflictions are shared and are connected on a plane of infinity, the surprises even haunt

the faint at heart.

A modern preparation depicting the avarice of some, and healed with glimpse of love twisted

with chagrin,

The Pater Familia succumbs to old wounds and changes continuous important limitations

shackled by the past.

By the grace of a replaced beggar accused of heresy, he begins his journey forward in a

backward style of a deity

And to build on an imprinting and swallowing, and by an appreciative lesson controlled by

standing on one’s own grounds.

Naiveté inspires curiosity with eyes closed, blinded by entitlement surrounded by imagery from

fertile thoughts and shadows that have not found their home.

A burning sensation pleaded with insanity that has wandered in its own predicament entangled

with nostalgia.

One has to salvage and prioritize solidarity, invading fragility of a flaunting validation

And struggling in eternity with remnants draped over chagrin and invading colliding

melodies that flicker of a mysterious paradise.

An entitlement peruses by virtue of humbleness, seeking out the failure of truths scurrying back

into abandonment.

A starlit night mistaken for fireflies with a Sapphire twinkle, smile of dimensions unknown and

hidden in a secret society.

A translation is perched with new beginnings, to begin to lament and articulate many song

verses which are depleted during an aria.

The song verses pull on the heartstrings of clairvoyance attempting to reach out beyond the veil

that obliterated the sense of sight only to let us see within our hearts.

And this is when we are spared by the grace of shadows.