Where Blows the Wind

winter wind whistles

blowing snow into grey boughs

swaying in the dark

undecided fate

offered by warring factions

calling her nightly

black moon setting

slowly guided by the sun

revealing night

often i wander

wondering among shadows

whither lay the mind

labyrinthine paths

set by demons eagerly

devouring peace

contemplating now

life unbound from destiny

jubilant seizure

loftily rising

aspirations of freedom

fed on sacrifice

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Back and Forth

Two voices, one poem, blended smoothly where possible in tune with the tone

A mind which can’t be read,

A heart with no tears left to shed.

Guided by blind intuition,

Swept up in breaths of intention.

Apologies from far off horizons

Emotions wrapped up in silence.

Who’s to catch me when I fall?

Who’s to soothe all the pain,

Providing comfort after rain?

Soaked from the cold,

Huddled and alone,

Staring into the darkness of a lost kiss,

Dripping tears, heavy hearts wander.

Awaiting reciprocity in vain,

Ticking time til they meet again.

Underachieving, losing the true peace.

Wrapped up in false moments

While time pushes forward.

Seeking the wind to fill sail

Else to be lost in travail.

Inside the Cold, I Burn

brawling souls unleashed

projecting inner darkness

into love’s lesson

knowing the nothing

essential clarity

unfolding in waves

detached awareness

suppressing desire, for

art’s pure expression

beyond attraction

false polarity ensues

seeking the untruth

bound in icicles

direct focus maintained by

persistence of will

honor your mind

with simple clarity of thought

provided here, free

houses built of light

beating in time with our heart

as bodies go boom

Sonnet 123

If you want me then inspire please.

Show me your flame, in unique fashion,

Make your life art, be an assassin,

Be as the wind that flows through the trees,

Give me intention, what sets you free?

Striving ahead to live in passion,

When the world stops, when it’s all crashing,

How deep runs the well, flowing from the sea?

Depressed when I can’t find the rhyme,

Liberating expressions of mind.

A galaxy set out on pages,

With building blocks given by sages.

Projection of sequences prime,

Each stroke bringing closer the divine.

Sunday Fading Fast

In a daze of idle ways,

passing days in singing praise.

Pure creation, thought formation,

Operation: live life art.

Once began, forever spanned,

universes arising from nil.

From on high ivory towers,

dropping bombs to release brains

full of light, may seem insane.

Released from hell, now ring that bell,

Players tried & hung for their crime,

creating games for profit.

But now they’ve seen, we’re past the screen,

learning how to fly.

The living dream, reality seen.

Eyes open, the futures regained.

Diatribe of the Fallen Knight

Found this cleaning out an old storage container. Not sure when it was written but it clearly came from a dark place.

The final campaign began some time ago

The foe outside was fierce
but the one within was like fire.

Ruthless the fighting when it commenced,

more painful still the moments between.

For weeks much more than blood was shed,

casualties piled over hills and into the sky

as tears flowed ever and continue still.

But the final play once begun,

must soon draw to a close.

All lost for the one side,

Darkness thriving on the other.

Alone now is the last warriorpreparing within for the end.

“May this sword swiftly release

my life as it has many others.

May the spirit inside escape quickly,

but not with the speed of cowardice.”

The enemy approaches from every angle,

“May the world after bring peace to

this much endured soul.as I depart, leaving love behind,

wondering why it failed to conquer hate.”

The sun dips low as shadows wrap around the horizon,

In silence. He falls.