Nor smiles upon these leeches' lips

For we have dreamt about things that darken the days
We smile in our sickness and celebrate another's pain
Our strength is in their sacrifice
We eat their flesh
We drink their blood
Not in humbled thanks, but gorging pride

And when another day shall dawn, darkening our eyes
There shall be no sacrifice nor smiles upon these leeches' lips
Our weakness is the loss of strife and harm
No flesh to eat
No blood to drink
But in hungered cries, we'll surely starve

A•L•ONE

ALONE
my thoughts are my own
at least, I think so
one moment they are controlled
The next unhinged and swinging wildly
    squeaking in the winds
from cursed tri-tones to harmonious hymns
I vacillate ALONE

LONE
independent soul?
or whited, blighted bone
now sanded down to whistling moans?
from barren desert dust staring blankly,
    blinkless to each gust
with eyes as holes and empty trust
I exemplify the LONE

ONE
looks down from stark sun
caught bare I can not run
knowing this, I am undone
and blistering heat becomes some comfort
    where our souls might meet
sorrow sucks from joy's warmed teat

multiplied by ONE

still working on the hope of bardic transference after sleeping on Cadair Idris

Poetry belongs on paper (a poem)

This poem was written rather quickly as I was waiting for a video of Mary the Goth Theologian to download onto Youtube.  Rather than get up off the bed, and get my notebook, I typed it on my Mac.  There is something rather sterile about writing poetry on a computer.  So, as you can read that was the theme of the poem.

This is also the ongoing pursuit of the poetic skill I should have acquired by sleeping on Cadair Idris.  The only real way for me to discover whether I have poetic prowess beyond song-writing is to offer this to people who actually read my stuff.  So, here it is - offered as a screen capture from my Mac.

I will remember you (poem)

I will remember you

friends from distant places
   whose words bend on the wind
      they somehow reach my longing ears
         now strained by hammered pains

he who remembers me
   will be remembered too
      like water to dried prophet's lips
         and rain upon parched land

sorrow is my prison
   and yet my freedom too
      betrayal is my enemy
         till friend's words salve the sores

I will remember you
   the kindness and the calls
      have now poured life into my soul
         through tears and sweated brow

Yes, my attempts at testing poetic prowess on the heels of sleeping upon Cadair Idris continue.  Photos and video of the climb.