Images of self

created in unknown regions of my mind,

areas I do not like to visit,

thoughts and emotions,

wild and uncontrolled,

seem to be scars on my soul,

which I do not understand.

r
 

regions unknown

melted and marred,

the landscape, unrecognizable,

a painting of regions on the way to hell,

or visions of the pathway to heaven,

the land doesn't seem to be of this earth,

nor do the specters lurking in the painting,

marred and melted.

,

 

Time Sentinels

rocks.

survivors from the past,

observe the passing of time,

and all the changes,

reminding us,

we are only here for a short time,

not survivors,

but prisoners of our time,

unable to observe the changes in time.

 

The Count

 the walker before me blocks me from my past, 

run with the wind,

I will not,

ever again, 

or walk without pain,

writing now difficult,

instead my mind contemplating each and every possible step,

I may possibly take,

evidently afraid of the pain,

it sits, continuously counting steps,

endlessly, .  . .Sesame Street gone wrong,

I stagger up and grab the walker,

I concentrate on not vocalizing the count in my mind,

back stabbing bastard,

count to yourself,

you son of a bitch,

I will focus on the journey,

not the steps,

even if only to relieve myself,

the journey important, not the count,

outside, desperate to see sky,

a girl on the sidewalk,

college aged, walks on by,

my mind no longer notices how she dresses,

or her body type,

it only counts her fucking steps,

as she walks on by,

seeing me, a smile full of pity,

she starts across the street, to the other side,

nearing the border of my universe.

Christmas Songs

 why the singing of those Christmas songs ?

isn't it about priorities ?

Christmas time, when lives examined,

and ideals professed,

love and community promoted,

days of childhood,

remembered and honored,

days of yore,

come to the foreground of the mind,

Christmas, a time for the deaf to hear,

when sight given to the blind,

spiritual and physical,

life, in it's  essence, examined,

and explained,

voices can not help but be raised in song.