Magazine Posts

Black in the east,
the sun set, long ago,
now for the curiosity,
from the traveling show.

Many moves, so many,
best with sleight of hand,
from a magician, who is
on a one-night stand.

He dazzled the crowd,
with his visual display,
went behind a curtain
an vanished, flying away,

Never the story, to recall,
without a visual display,
curiosity was present when
he disappeared that day.

My heart began beating,
with a regular heart rate,
Why this happened,
I can only pontificate,

There won't be another tomorrow,
were words well said,
for there is a problem.
Many of us may be dead,

What was the question,
another voice, chimed in,
for at this rate, it will only be
an ordinary, simple, venial sin.

Aches and pains
still exist,
from my misspent youth.
Broken legs, broken wrist

Latent waters, still.
Now run deep.
Is there time,
for you to sleep?

For when the
big sleep will be,
you may sleep
for an eternity.

I've lost my way,
was to me said.
I no longer belong
to the living dead.

Be you here,
be thee far,
I will know you,
by whom you are.

Run and hide,
if you can.
Do what you need,
for you are the man.

Words will mix,
words will match,
blending together.
What's the catch?

Words we know,
from Latin or French.
Words quite guttural,
still in the trench.

Words like kinder,
German for child,
then Garten.
Aren't words wild?

Latin words, like port,
meaning gate,
Words similar to some,
mama is great.

There are many words,
we use every day.
Derived from other counties,
or in another way.

Long were the boats,
which anchored in the Quay.
Anchored together,
so they wouldn't float away,

On the shores,
of Lake Gitchigume,
where children would play,

came a spirit,
who would not stay away.
A kindred spirit,
of a native man, at play,

who remembering,
his youth,
like only he can.
Times were fresh not uncouth.

The access to the
land would always be free,
for it belonged to all,
even you and me.

Fear not the spirit,
for he was the host,
representing us all,
as our own human ghost.

Early evening,
before the sunset,
a strange phenomenon occurs,
you may never forget.

Angels and Devils,
on horseback, rode,
searching the villagers'
humble abode.

Another story, before
the early dawn break,
would search again,
for more souls to take.

Angels and Devils,
on horseback, will ride,
through the masses of humanity,
down by their side.

Shutter your windows,
board up your door,
for the spawn of the Devil,
will return for more.

One day the Sun,
began rising in the West.
Understand this new priority.
What happens to the rest?

The world re-oriented
on its plane,
wobbled like a top,
and I became insane.

No rhyme or reason,
for me to see this way,
except when my mind,
detoured and went astray.

Beautiful wisteria,
above the garden gate,
as flowing, golden, colors,
enhanced the landscape.

Water flowerßsc, slowly,
along the garden wall,
where all the flowers,
grow, short or tall.

Should I leave tomorrow,
you won't need to call, just
tell all I love them,
look for me in the mall.

If I can see tomorrow,
a day which may never come,
it would be a blessing,
if it's the day I don't succumb.

For all the promised tomorrows,
there never has been one,
for life doesn't guarantee survival,
or when it's one and done.