Severed

bound
I was
by fear and myth and legend
free
I am
by paths of my own invention
not soft
I came
to the ends of my contention
not hard
I thought
nor with disguised intention
returned
to grow
and found the soil lacking

and still
still same
those still same toxic words I heard
“fell this limb
it will grow no more” they say
and I
no longer part of the tree
will wither and die

axe
in hand
I make the final stroke

And grow

Second Hand Memories

Handmade messages of eternal love
“I will love you forever”
Reads the poorly made combination key rack and light bar
No doubt lasting as their love
Now headed for the dumpster within the hour

Old rolls of film
Family outings never processed
All the care that the diposable generation can muster
Is to offer those not-so-charished memories
To others who care even less

Miles of childrens toys
Neglected as the children they were meant to enthrall
Entertain
Or encourage

Piles of lawn chairs
Purchased for family time
Backyard cookouts
Relaxation
Musty as the thoughts that bore them

Bikeracks for bikes
Bought for health
And left hanging from rafters

Pet taxis for Fifi and Rusty
Long gone
Never forgotten

And a sign that reads
“We will never forget”

All

The Devil whispers quietly
in the chilly morning breeze,
My name is spoken silently
amongst the ancient trees.

In a voice so primitive,
seldom heard, more seen
by eyes that are now opened wide
by the Primitive within.

In that demon whisper
the Angels sing their praise
of long dead gods and demigogs
with long forgotten names.

I take my place among them,
these goddesses and gods,
and find myself thrown back to earth
to dwell within the common mob.

“Why, then?” I ask,
“Why, then, this great gift given?”
“Why not to join you here on earth?”
“Why not make this place Heaven?”

Silence is the answer,
save the demon whisper,
which coerces and carresses
and convinces that it’s different.

But my howling primitive
and ancient sacred soul commands;
“Away with you, both gods and devils!”
For now I understand.

Neither gods,
nor devils,
nor alchemists,
nor goddesses,
we are.

We are the Living Universe,
a greater power by far.

A Fury and a Temptress.
Creator, Lord, and Light.
Pilfering Benefactor.
Virgin Concubine.
Master and Destroyer.

And whispers of the Devil
in the chill
at the end of night.

I Could Tell You

Would you listen?

Could you even hear the words?

Of a place not far from now
Of the person that will be

Were

I see your path
Blindly
I see it lit with Light
But in the end
It’s just one Path
There is no wrong or right

Upon that Path

Hindered here

Aided there

Never left alone

You must wander lonely
In the company of friends
Always going

Home

But its just one Path
And it’s yours
Up to the end

I’d share with you
What happens then
The end
Is so much more

But would you even listen?

Could you hear the words?