Music.

Soul circles, smoke-like
- cat in trance -
simply can’t resist the dance
disappears on padded feet
simply can’t resist the beat

when skin bleeds
the soul breathes
finds air in sweet desp(air)
circles, smoke-like
disappears
irrevocably in arrears

like a dragonfly
he barely skims the surface
waiting as a spider does
for careless little words
waiting as a python does
for careless little birds
draws them in on threads of silk
and grinds them down to milk
drinks at leisure
for his pleasure
those of wanton ilk

you. Writers.
Bearers of your Soul.

It makes you whole,
doesnt it?

Feelings on shirtsleeves
the transcendence of a Mole.

Tick Tock
There goes the clock.
Time to meet your Maker.

Posing prose as poetry
Rhyme and rhythm gallantly
Moving aside curtains of dust
We do what we must to get
The point across
Spiraling like hungry crows
Across the carcass
Of a questioning mind
Wings tilting in the wind
As we look to find sense
In some nonsensical thought.

He placed her on a pedestal
And fed her milk and honey
Gently clipped her wings
As he showered her with money

She was his wife, he was her life
Until the day she slipped and fell
Easy was the fall into
The waiting arms of Hell

The distance between love and loss
Is no more than a sigh
Easy come hello
And easy come goodbye.