Her gaze hides from reality
because she is here, but her soul was not.
She has the ability to look straight through beings
while defining the sense of seeing
as she keys her energy into this moment of bleeding.
She gazed upon reality as the world watched.
She was here, but she couldn’t touch.
You meet them,
you see them,
you ponder on their dreams
because so few have the ability of a gaze
that breaks existence for all that it’s got.
the snake—
alluring notions held in its eyes
tongue twitching with noxious desire
arrogance held in a sauntered slink
vile venom dousing budding souls
—lends itself to this nature
Brandon
Behold the dance of the rattling bones,
See how they click and clack,
The prancing of their skeleton feet,
A ballet to dazzle and to distract.
They pirouette with skinless glee,
Then arabesque and take a bow,
And with a smile the king is pleased,
His loyal subjects did amaze and bow.
Hail to the King!
We only exist to entertain.
Hail to the King!
We pick up our bones and dance again.
Haunted Lunacy
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night
Robert Frost
"I felt a Funeral, in my Brain,
And Mourners to and fro
Kept treading – treading – till it seemed
That Sense was breaking through –
And when they all were seated,
A Service, like a Drum –
Kept beating – beating – till I thought
My mind was going numb –
And then I heard them lift a Box
And creak across my Soul
With those same Boots of Lead, again,
Then Space – began to toll
As all the Heavens were a Bell,
And Being, but an Ear,
And I, and Silence, some strange Race,
Wrecked, solitary, here –
And then a Plank in Reason, broke,
And I dropped down, and down –
And hit a World, at every plunge,
And Finished knowing – then –"
Emily Dickinson
There is an old tree that sits bare on the lane.
It has always been dead, which no one can explain.
Its branches have never born petals nor fruit,
For poison has spread from its limbs to its root.
Its bark is as black as a night with no moon.
Around it a fungus has built a cocoon.
The tree never dies, yet seems slowly to grow.
And why does it do this? Not one seems to know.
For hundreds of years, this old timber has stood
From where it was taken from out of the wood.
The people who brought it have all up and died.
You ask to remove it? So many have tried.
The tree is now part of the soil and land.
It cannot be removed by a mere mortal’s hand.
For all those who touch it will suffer a fate
That is far worse than dying or torture or hate.
They once tried to remove it by using an ax.
The next day, they woke with deep cuts on their backs.
Another once tried to just burn down the tree.
His eyes disappeared, and he could no more see.
So if you should see this old tree in the square,
I beg of you, please, take my words and beware.
Do not touch the tree, nor its root in the mud,
For the tree always hungers, and feeds upon blood.
Andrew Durbin
While a black of crows – hide in a storm of beds.
A book that brings the curse of death
to all who look upon it
while life is at rest.
Composed from the shadows!
The blackness is numb;
your days are numbered as you chant this song.
The crows await a filthy feast as you work out the riddle of this verse to complete.
A book of darkness;
a book of truths;
a moment where life could or maybe should.
The key is silver;
the lock is black;
let life go!
So death can give back
Look into your dreams!
Beyond where the clouds form a memory of your screams.
Look into your fragile mind.
Does it deliver you into this decaying time?
Keep painting the pictures of your brain turning outside in.
Are you ready for reality to fall in?
I didn’t think so;
the dark is already in.
Your body is a sky
I want to sing into forever
and my body is
that trembling song.
Jeremy Radin
We loved like we fought,
slugging our way toward each other,
sending up flares to announce our advance.
And when our cityburned,
we stood in the ashes,
and admired each other’s bodies.
Now I ask you: how will we manage
without the steadiness of our long unhappiness
Marilyn Krysl