Poetry-Thing Thursday: Frail

Goodnight.
Dead light.
Out of sight.
Born in terrible fright.

Sleep,
to keep,
or to weep,
no matter its creep.

Undue,
life through.
the wrecking crew,
a heart forever blue.

Wheezy.
Pretext greasy.
It’s so cheesy
swingin’ in a treesy.

Protoplasm.
An orgasm.
For a chasm,
and they who has’m.

Throbbing.
Wet, sobbing.
Kneeling, head bobbing.
Swallowed it for swabbing.

Distaste.
A waste,
of true haste,
and milk-white waist.

Feel.
It’s real.
how to deal,
with iron and steel?

Legs,
locked, begs,
for the dregs
to fertilize her eggs.

Nail,
and rail,
hoisting the sail,
to follow smoke-trail,
where two become one, frail.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Light-Walkers

Uniformity is,
conformity for,
a perilous pitiless,
beast in the night,
whom knows nothing of fright,
nor of those whom walk in the light,
and so hastens the collective goodnight.

And with it comes,
the armies of darkness;
humans mad with desire and fire.
Ruled by fears and told dangerously beautiful lies,
to fight and ultimately die,
for what they believe will allow them to rise,
but is, in fact, only cementing their demise.

The mire is thick,
a drug for mind-sick,
counting off lies,
as does the heart tick,
absent though it may seem,
it is never far,
‘specially for those,
with the deepest of scars.

As they change,
the darkness,
one must wonder:
what form of madness,
did they from,
reality, sunder?

A cold moon rises.
Blood bathes the blades.
Crimson and steel.
Both tepid, real.
Stained with light and dark blood alike.

By firelight,
camps and engines burn bright,
there is no denying the sight;
light and dark-walkers alike,
bleed red as kinfolk might.

As the blood glistens,
blends with dirt,
the charge ripples–
a ceasing wave.
For dark and light abound,
and so too doth red blood.

At last those whom walk in light,
joined by those whom walk in the night,
see the true enemies revealed.
And without their commanded armies,
they find death is real.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: Kingdom of the Animal Song

Pass out from too much cruisin’.
White waves that I love usin’.
Been around but not abusin’.
Forget it, I don’t need excusin’,
I’ll just be on my way.

Pity the fool who’s not foolin’.
Write it up in the daily news ‘n,
see him come all unglued in,
the lair of the rich and proven.
He’ll just waste away each day.

No one is right, no one is wrong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
I have heard it all along,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.

She’s just a little bit stressed.
She’s just a little undressed.
In my back yard she’s feelin’ blissed,
while her body’s caressed,
beneath my lips.

It’s a little bit sound.
It’s a merry-go round.
Going pound for pound,
down to the ground.
I play it for the tips

There is no fight, there is no gong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
Bounce around like Neil Armstrong
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.

Close your eyes and meet me there.
I despise more than is fair.
But close your eyes and meet me there.
Tell me lies as if you care.

Ready set dead,
from a shot to the head,
a curious way to be led,
from the comfort of your warm bed,
to a mystery’s need.

I’ve had enough of you.
You’ve had enough to do,
everything I said ’til I was blue.
You are but one of few,
chosen for this deed.

I’ll just be on my way
just to waste away every day.
Underneath my lips
you play it for tips.
Don’t settle for this.
Don’t settle for less.

Cause there is no sight, won’t you come along
to the kingdom of the animal-song.
Tamp it down and hit the bong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
We get it on all-day long,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.
I feel inside your thong,
in the Kingdom of the Animal-Song.

In the Kingdom of the Animal-Song,
you always belong.

Poetry-Thing Thursday: A Feast of Life

Lead me not into darkness,
for I seek the light.
In times of trouble or sorrow,
it is that for which I fight.
For there is no heaven, nor hell,
only those meek and with might,
and good and evil,
is only a matter of sight.

Do not speak of atrocities,
for I intend to feast on life.
In the living there is to be found,
something of a double-edged knife,
two-sided– a duality,
of equal parts joy and strife.
Love is its queen, virtue its king,
loyalty and truth its husband and wife.

So open your mind, and heart, and eyes.
Listen with soul, fingers, and ears.
The world has much to tell.
There are greater things than one’s own fears,
and there is much more to see–
some older than even man’s years.
All of them, in the right moment,
can bring one to tears.

So open up and embrace,
that which is all around you,
life and love and happiness,
all the things you can do,
and live to feast on life,
for your death will come too,
and between here and there and then and now,
it is better to have lived anew.