Pondering my epiphanies,
brings an overwhelming
self congratulatory

sensation, equaled only by the
certainty of their falsehoods.
Gods do not speak to me,

but merrily nudge me in the
ribs, and wink three times.
Ah, but this is my afternoon

muse, bright and airy.
Those forced out at night
are so much darker.

As the god of the lottery grabbed for the reigns

As the god of the lottery grabbed for the reigns

With the devil behind him, he reached once again

For the strength and the longing to pull in his mare

Then he grinds to a halt, but the devils still there

 

Now the god he was slippery, careful but wise

And he sang everyday in a clever disguise

O he sang of the sea, and he sang to the air

And he sang of his loss without seeming to care

 

Still the god of the lottery clung to the reigns

With the devil still chasing, and doing the same

So they ride for the morning, they ride to the night

And they ride for the chasm with manic delight

 

Now the god he was gifted with finesse and skill

And he danced everyday at the top of his hill

O he danced for the girl with the Spanish guitar 

With a promise of love that would never go far

 

But the god of the lottery clings to the reigns

As he chases his devil across endless plains

So they ride for the desert, they ride for the sea

And they ride for the thunder that’s eternity 

Zeus Impending

Four letter words bloom like petals of invitation, opening a seed that denies nothing. Yet I fear my imagination, as it takes hold our stresses, once more puncturing that rose of delicate perfection. Whisper sweet though, remember time is short, but intense with forever.

Taking Liberties With Methuselah

I flogged my pen across the page
In search of something true
But all the words I plagiarized
Were written just for you

I used a clever metaphor
So cunningly disguised
As songs to praise the deep blue sea
That really meant your eyes

I wrote about the sands of time
Yet kept the meaning terse
And gambled that you’d understand
My need beneath this verse

One Hundred And Sixty Syllables

Gather the roses I plucked from your sin
Careful the thorns that will bloody your skin
Place them in vases with water and wine
Tie them with beauty and feed them with time

Forsake the words that were highlighted red
Erase forever that stain on our bed
True that I held you in passion and pain
Sure of the sweat that would follow again

Empty the vials where we brewed up the dark
Grind up the glass so it won’t leave a mark
Scrub all the floors where the evidence lay
No one will know that we left it that way

Ponder the needs of the next who will come
Line up his heart in the sights of your gun
Write it all up in your poetry book
Just like they taught in the classes you took