Thump

Thump! Thump!
in the dark their is a sound
rattling off the edges of your soul
booming, beating

Thump! Thump!
is it a heartbeat or is it a bomb
is it the wind or the lyrics
to a deadly song?

Thump! Thump!
you feel it, but you can't
reach it with either hand
so you wonder
and then you wonder some more
until you end up wandering
blind and rotten to the core

Champagne Rivers

I see long alleyways, and simple sidewalks
with cracks that extend to the edge of the earth
and bears popping champagne bottles
spraying the white canvases left behind
on forest trails for pelicans to find

I see champagne rivers and glass ponds
broken with the stones thrown by toddlers
watching the moon set on the other side
of fragile dreams held together by yarn

I see the wolves, and hear their howls
piercing the tranquility of foggy nights
creating storm clouds that drench us all
in champagne downpours and silver scenes
written by aging writers sitting on barstools

Martyrs

The tables are burning
alongside the ports of Athens
I am calling I am yearning
For a revolution
a whisper of change and chance
an unfiltered solution

I cry for the children
I cry for the ants
I cry for the poor fools
wearing shredded filthy pants

Dare we summon the dragons
that once lived in the Buddha
and the brave sheltering
the guidance of the martyrs
and those who never lived

Ancient

You are something more
than the dreams ever described
You are something permanent
etched into my mind
as a perfect painting of bliss

There are moments when I wonder
if I have somehow gotten lost
in an eternal slumber
with you as my guide
trying to bring me home

I watch sunsets on fire
and the skyline smoking
while the voices of the hidden
choke on emotions trapped
within my heart and throat
that whisper your name

You are indeed majestic
like the queens of the ancient world
beckoning to stone kings
to take their place beside beauty
in dance halls paved with gold

The Circus

Do you enjoy the circus
the barks and the boos
coming from the audience
and the birds that watch
from their perch high above
the tents and the tantrums

I've seen the riddles they've created
and read the books they've written
stories of aging golden geese
and the genius of chickens
pecking at yarn and silver
in the cages of universal fears

The circus is holding open auditions
for the part of entertaining slaves
as the public pays to watch
using currency carved out of rocks
only to shatter when traded
for trivial treasures invented
by the genius of selfish demons

Aphrodite

Did you find yourself
beneath the shadow of the moon
amongst the coral and the current
the tides of fortune swept us
past the pillars of prosperity
and the honesty that we once shared

Soldiers wear their wounds proudly
despite the pain built into such scars
fighting for a better tomorrow
and tomorrow has bloomed into today
and today has reached for the stars
washed in with the rains that followed

Beauty hiding in the trees of the jungle
crushed underneath dead leaves
searching for the goddess Aphrodite
and other mysterious deities
that once gave man fire for warmth
and knowledge to gain worn freedoms

Ghosts don't stop haunting
the people who wronged them
when they were alive and able
to smell the scent of roses
made into fine perfumes
only to be worn by wolves

Did you finally find yourself
on the beaches of the Mediterranean
as you crashed into crystal clear waves
and toasted with finest wines
once given to the goddess herself
as a token of her treacheries

Empty Clips

Can you hear the drip?
That thunderous drip
that rips from the mists
and trickles from parched lips
the drip, the drip, the random hits
of power, pills, and prophecy

Can you see the drip?
the warriors, and the pimps
the homeless and their limps
that sit at the bottom of sunken ships
pieces of golden triangles
and the fragments of parchments ripped
from the headlines, head cases
and the God we all miss

Can you paint the drip?
the eagles and the empty clips
that belonged to guns and sons
that ran so far, and came up so short
the drip, the drip, the winnings and the chips
while angels and demons continued to flip

Can you hear the drip?
the gifted and the hearts of wimps
blasted into the atmosphere on the backs
of space shuttles and personal troubles
reflected in ancient herbs and surreal trips
built into fossilized bone and plastic hips

The drip, the drip, the legacies we have equipped

Fin