Strange Dreams

Buildings floating through the trees
Purple flowers, pink as peas
Walls of human flesh collide
Drinking malted cyanide

Rolling Rainbow Clouds of Pain
Spinning, Whirling, down the drain
Skies of green and rain of black
Prickly fingers down my back

Color swirling in my eyes
Bright and vivid, then it dies
invading essence, burning stain
face it, fellas, I'm insane

Swirly puddles in the mud
oily spirit chewing cud
stripes of color, rays of light
a piercing howl tears through the night

discordant music in my mind
pounding, throbbing, out of time
rusty barbwire's soft caress
systems screaming in distress

alarms ringing in my head
cool it down or wind up dead
thunder footsteps of SWAT teams
intrude upon my strange dreams

Imaginary Poem

I imagine poetry;
comparing the starkness of reality to the softer tones of fantasy,
illuminating the grimness of the human condition,
swelling with power and carefully controlled verse,
telling a tale of the harshness of human souls
and the kinder thoughts of those capable of having them,
describing wonders beyond imagination...
but alas,
I cannot write it.

Everything

This space is to be used for writing your own poem. It is meant to be stared at while thinking beautiful thoughts. It is meant to encompass anything that might go in here, the limits are only those that are self-imposed. You may place another's work here. You may place your own work here. You may imagine the most beautiful creation ever to be conceived now or in the future residing in this space. It is meant to give you a sense of connection to every other person visiting this page. Imagine what someone else might have put in this box. This message is not the poem, the poem is the world around you, inside you, and beyond you. I mean this to be a vessel, a holder, and a ship, taking you beyond yourself, beyond your own knowledge and holding it all in one place. No, you can't save anything in this box, but I encourage you to post your entry in the comments below or on another blog (linking to this one would help much). I want you to fill this space, empty it, and fill it again. I want you to use it as an outlet, a blast of fresh air, a clean slate. I want you to think about it, and not think about it, or not even use it, all as you see fit. I feel it's important to give fair warning however, offensive comments will be removed. Comments that show use of the box are most likely to stay in the comment list. Ads will not be tolerated. I will decide what is offensive, don't worry about it as you write. Just write, think, and grow within yourself.

(The proportions of the above textbox are indeed the golden ratio, for those curious.)

Author-Writer-Ruler

The writer dreams, Maker of Worlds,
Director of Life and Reaper of Death,
Creator of Good, Master of Evil,
Under his eye dashes Battle Eternal.
Weaver of Tales, Spinner of life,
Giver of Love, and Bringer of Strife,
Contractor of Pain, Headmaster of Hate,
In his control lies Mankind's fate.
Dare not avert your eyes
lest someone you love dies!
Heart held in his hands,
Deepest is where his blow lands.

Naïveté

For what has come and now has passed,
For deeds been done that cannot last,
Carpé Diem! Seize the day!
And see for yourself what you may.
One day this and the next day that,
Day to day you change your hat.
It's all in the name of happiness,
The reason you endure distress.
Live forever in the Now,
Then look back and wonder, "How?
What is this I find myself in?
Why did I do this yet again?"
Then I hope that you will see,
Happiness is quite easy.
It is found inside yourself,
It can't be bought off of a shelf.
You won't find it in another,
Look inside! Dig deeper, further!
Carpé Diem! Seize the day!
Don't have it any other way!
But alas, my friend, take care, be wise;
For as you know, all's not clear skies.

A Poet is Amungus

Amungus was a Poet,
As plain as day could see.
He wrote his verse,
And he rehersed,
For his salary.

He wove love with his sonnets,
Put sadness in his rhymes;
And then out loud,
He’d please the crowd,
With laughter and good times.

He’d drive home every stanza,
Stomp out punctuation.
His verse would burst,
With deadly thirst,
To etch each situation.

Amungus was a poet.
As clever as could be!
But then one day,
He died away,
Left hanging from a tree.

They say he never left here,
He turned into a ghost.
He haunts the school,
And plays the fool,
To see who he scares most.

Young Johnny chanced to see him,
One morning on the bus,
He cried out, "Hey!
Don’t look but
a Poet is among us!

Beauty Stands Alone

Ripples in the water,
A whisper in the air,
Soft touch,
A silent rush,
Welcoming in darkness.

Stars Twinkling in the sky,
Leaves rustle in the trees,
Cool air,
A growing love,
Clasping in the secrets.

A full moon,
A wolf howls,
Warm carress;
The mind reels,
Grokking in the fullness.

Beauty stands alone,
Calls silently to me,
We embrace,
Electrically
Each knows the other's thrill.

The morn has come upon us,
Crickets sound laments;
Hands held;
Longing comes,
Forbidding separation.