October Mornings And Time Spent With You

Frozen dew waits on 

petrified grass, like crystals,

they share a secret.

Structure

In the shallows of my cup, 

where imbued leaves drown,

I am but a muse.

Systematized Delusions

as I thought of death on chilly autumn day

I warmed myself over a mug of Kyoto cherry rose tea

when a raven glided across my window

to perch itself upon my chopping block

 

again I thought of death

 

as the sun rose through the clouds to reveal the silver blade of the wood axe

sitting in the corner next to the pile of birch wood

yet the raven still stared

I gripped tightly to my tea shifting it nervously

as I thought of death on a chilly autumn day

Reciprocated Love is Haunting

a string of pearls idly fall from her mouth

he will always love her

she has look of longing for what she missed

he will always love her

to taste the lips of a lover who has long been lost

he will always love her

and now have been passed to another

she will always love him

Thoughts on Coloured Leaves and the Soiree We Shared

vibrant tassels

hanging from the skelton trees

are hypnotizing

 

rotting leaves and most soils

keep the fugi warm

for feet who wish to kick them 

 

the crisp air gets hard to breath

it makes me feel real

enough to form a smile

 

Autumn frosts emboss the grass 

north winds chilling laughter

for Jack is breathing down necks

and twisting trees into a bow

Your “Art”of Egotism is Excogitable

I singled you out

Brought tears to your eyes

Changed?

Evolved?

Enlightened?

 

You have learned nothing

 

Try and hide from me

I see you as plain as you are

As a carbon copy

Black and white

Painting on the wall

A Degas dancer

In a reversed hat

And a button down

I used to love you

But your creativity

Has gouged out

Your milky blue eyes

All you see now?

Is fabricated beauty

I was so real

You saw me

I am just dust

In your eyes

Remember How We Used To Talk?

I see you there holding on to your faith.

You seem just like the rest of us.

Are you carrying a prayer in your pocket?

For a moment, I forgot how to spell prayer.

I used to do it everyday.

You know, pray.

 

I’d sit alone and talk to God.

He got me through the days;

the bad days and the good days,

the sad days and confused days.

The point is, I needed him.

He was the point of singing:

He was the music.

He was the point of learning:

He was my teacher.

He was the point of living:

He was my life.

 

Now I see you sitting there

laughing, spinning, twisting, talking, yawning,

wishing, loving, dancing, singing

but not praying.

I miss saying I belonged to Him

just like you do.

What is Left of September

I remember

Those hollow words

That grieved my tired mind

I am just you’re life line

The Red Thread, if you will

You hold a part of me

It keeps me here

From time to time

But I am a mere ghost

My complexion

Does not disapprove

On and on I move

Through mind of time