The 25th Song

drifting through the late night news
broken windows, broken hues
we’re painted red with the envious masses
ridiculed from within
me and you
we frenzied through our classes
classical broadway, black water walkways
fade away causeway, no longer okay
aqueducts relaying sweet blasphemous liquid
little kids listening to the toxic
playing with the cosmic commotions left over from devotions
emotionless wording disrupting our potion making
class to class
we walk backwards through the dry grass
mirrored vegetables bathed in brine
and lonely, but if we could only
breathe
me and you
cut to words that make no sense
in the middle of our lives we find ourselves
spent
this night, this light, this lust
repent
cast the devils from your shoulder and watch the world set
watch them wither in the sins of the father
deliverance, taste the liver as you bathe it with cement
cold water fishing versus reckless multitasking
angry, i leave the room
again and again and again and again
left motionless while we simmer down
in the oceans of our closure we are left wanting
power is pleasant to those that have none
hours are heaven to those who are done
noisy we are in the night
not the good kind, not the pure kind
no heaven for us without trust
rap rhythms and black rules
me and you
whitewashing and mistaken truths
the call is answered and i am to return
to the wet wisdom of the night
dew in the sunlight
dawn of the dull, right
no words for those that lie
no love for the wicked, why
empty curtains
broken furnaces in the rooms of the old
light lost to the annals of history
no gold for those that glitter
no bones for those who quiver
no loans for those who wither
forever and ever
to have and to mold
lost in translation as we fold
temptations fall flat as we are left lifeless
all we needed was someone
to hold

The Boy That Ran

Run and run and run from you
kill the normal, break in two
lost your way and sanity
lost the life, because of me
run and run and run
from them
run because you envy them

hide from all in plain and sight
kill the hours of the light

lost until the night has come
run to me
love no one
run to me, love again
kill the silence
live again

live tonight
lost until tomorrow
hide in sight
love the sorrow

run away
hide away
hide the heart
runaway

kill the song and burn the need
hide away
run from greed
love no one
love is freed

live tonight

live tomorrow
love the light
hide, then follow

free yourself
but look no further
love no one
to run from murder

run away
run today

run too far
and hide yourself
kill inside
last, not least

run away
lost, not freed

free their souls
live their lives
and the loves of old
live the cold
live through eyes

look no further

die no more
run away but do not fall
far away
live a little
live for sights
and love the night

free the frozen
hear the calling
look inside and die a little

taste the tears that fell before
turn the tide
that broke the shore
love in fear
look no further

face the old
the bold precursor
the one you know
the ties that bind

free yourself
and close the door
or close your eyes

and run some more

13 August, 2013

The Magnificent Dead

All we are is walking meat
Husks of men that were one day
Here and there and chaos sown
They’ve walked the walls and now they’re grown
Meat to feed the mighty vats
Of flesh and man and wilder cat
We men of dust and beastly fray
That Gods would scorn
and earth, decay
That malice and her ilk would maim
That ancient of the earth would cave
Upon our heads a mighty gash
From wounded heart and sightless blame
Pathetic do we weave this woe
this banner war of spectral herds
Warriors upon the night
The kind that never death and blight
A windy chill is all we feel
When men of death and dark break door
Then carry us to endless night
And onward hunt for evermore
I leave you now for all that’s real
All that was and will reveal
The doors have opened on this night

The will to live has taken flight

Little Fears

Flash fiction tales of humor, horror and whimsy

The Naga

Critical. Crazy. Catastrophic.

420 ways to reach the sun

let the conversation begin.

Sauce Box

Never get lost in the Sauce

TheFeatheredSleep

Tigers not daughters

The Hollow Quiet

Pooled at the back of my throat, this sarcophagus of poetry

POETRY PASSION

AN AWESOME SOURCE OF ROMANTIC POETRY

the poet's billow

a resource for moving poetry

Adventures Abroad

tales from a life abroad

Ricardo Sexton

.Welcome to my Metaphors.

she's a seeker

It's never too late to seek.