# #betrayal #life #forgivness #suffering #sadness #pain #mistakes #madness #poetry love

Oceanic Flame

Oceanic Flame

Triumphant Surgeon

tossed beneath the crowd having a robotic clown full force to reach
crowds a blaze encountered a well known stretch hear the vault slam
shadows beckon in the wet window a horse came dwarf below its nest
Triumpant surgeon on my neck horrific known a glass well vent you see
shattered dream in plot of delicious ice cream a Maxwell scream freedom ring
turn the noise from each violent strain stand still in the frame pillows gain
browse through distant shattered glass full force then to react

fly through the closet the surgeon is well aware wanting to me draw near
the oceanic flame borrowed in it's chord of a smile still know all the great while

Zombie Torch

utmost desire coming down to the midnight wire
shooting desire on the tapestry to hope to taste
love is sin heelp to begin coffee ring cyclone sting
beggar trace make no mistake patterns to help see the sun
rainbow when evening falls she'll come to me soft and warm to touch the face
we believe we touch the rainbow right away to the sun on ships of wonder
lives not unreal we'll count the door...,

Dio left to meet the tempo here we go
outside when winds collide,
we near believe we shall touch the rainbow
the lights not the wheel from shades made of steal count the door

venture through a haze...,
there's a distant light it's all right
sail above the sky
shadows flock the sane debris

love is taunt to you peace to the world take you to the star
Rainbow slow to fountain
close the door to reality
best fits the zombie clock

Color Of Blood

there is a strange list

to there wet ranger of clouds

stroking our fields;

heavy pheasants were

high in ther wind, high over

currernt shrubs, unknown grain


Old trees moan like a boat,

were all their branches witch arms

They toss worn gloves at us

as if we are ready to be


shoverlerd over with dirt

Pulling damp bedding 

from clips, running

great straw baskets to ther house,


Silvere-berllierd grasses lift

their cat fur, could spit

blotching us wer hurrey

Veins of wind light, we see


their color of blood


for an hour we lean on north walls

wearing blankets, ther house underwater

we see ourselves circler through

streets, gripping shingles 

caught in ther highest breanchers

rising from their water, fish claws,

But all this wind

hits ther barelery field and dies








Author's Notes/Comments: 


A Vortex To A Quill

A Vortex To A Quill






shaped from the tiny fragmentation of the impulse in my mind


blinded by the mere silence in its brigade of solemn tenderness


alone I sit on a high hill visually seeing the passerbys visit then leave


a quaint encounter to the vast duration of negate circumstances


all of life is a test each of us is caught up in its fix you see


out of sincere necessity one is willing in which to achieve


the heavy garb of compromise is suddenly removed from there eyes


does it come at any big enough surprise the closing of the door


another window will appear this time very clear


light & love






hands, eyes & feet


shadows block the vortex in my magestic thoughts


once again I'm on a raft near the shore I suddenly get tired falling into a sleep


next I know I'm out in the middle of the sea away from know civilization


life hits us hard when we least axpect it to


many have bitten off far more then they could ever chew


sullen brevity


the quill is a welcoming mat for all to enter


a heart saturated with truth will withstand the truest test of time






many times we have to come up for air


a little folding of the hands and then


hopefully you will understand


yet a heart will not beat something it clearly can't


the mere notion of love is not for the faint hearted


love permeates a soul vested existence


with columns of lavender torn in its vested mockery


we now come suddenly to a close for I never felt like this before


you were all I was living for







Headphones bleed
From the chords I believe
Were struck by the master…
The master of hands…
Of "Ladyland", electric
A vinyl worth the weight
Of three bricks of gold
For its’ platinum sold, and-
I could never trade that thrill
That marrow bristling chill
For a sack of dollar bills
On e-bay’s net exchange
For I may be old and strange
But am not that far deranged


And, ahhhh…the jagged mid-range tone
Sweet and smooth like sculpted stone
Before the days of cellular phones
When Jimi blew my Fosgate cones-


In acoustical bliss
With a mind-chasing hiss
Like a Boa or Cobra
In peak tone and pitch


And the demon of demons
With his tie-dye bandana
Toothpick, his stage manna
‘Sweet Decibel Demon’
Twang-god for all seasons
Of titanium tweeter domes
Disturbed watts and ohms


Part 3

A Note to Myself

You wake up in the middle of the night with an anxious feeling in your stomach. You know that feeling, right? The one where you want to vomit all over the place, wondering if that feeling will go away. Once the job is done, you try to go back to sleep. You begin to pray for a tomorrow that will transform into a new day, a new light, or a new hope and dream that has yet to fade away. Your eyes start to get heavy, your head begins to throb, and your eyes begin to sting. How can you really like someone who refuses to give you the attention you deserve? How is that possible? You have attachment issues.


A fragile word with many meanings behind it. You met a person, a man that treated you with respect, affection, and dignity. You see yourself with him for a long time. You have only met him two weeks ago but you are so crazy about it. He is on your mind all the time. You have never felt so connected to a human being in a long time, despite all your insecurities, he made you feel like a real woman that night.

After that night, on a Wednesday, was the last time you have ever spoke to him. You begin to feel like you have done something wrong. You begin to ask him if he is angry but you get no response. You feel like you are talking to a brick wall. You tell your friends about it, but they tell you stay hopeful and that he will come around.

He has not.

You begin to message him, asking him to tell you how he feels about you. He never does. He opens your message but does not reply. Something dies inside you, as if you are not worthy enough of his time and attention. You message him again, hoping he would tell you what is wrong.

He does not.


You need to realize that you need to let go and move. Why are you so afraid to let go? Just let go, not only for your body, but also for your MIND. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I have been going through a lot lately, mentally. I hope this mini series will help me cope with a lot of my insecurities and possibly helped some of you. 

Fragments of the Past

Verse 1:

Fragments of the past

Begin to overwhelm me.

Say not another word,

I can hear you.

Though, I'm so far gone now.



My heart is tangled up on you.

I cannot imagine life without you by my side.

You've stood by me through everything

And I've finally found you

In our safe haven.


Verse 2:

I should have known

From the day we met

That you were in love with me.

Now, I shall confess that I love you.

Yeah, admit it: yo're in love with me too.



When all is said and done,

I'll start back at one with you.

Take me back to the day we met.

Those were the moments

That I knew we'd be together in the end.


Fragments of the past

Over take us both.

Our feelings are mutual.

We've made it this far.

I love you. 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Song about giving your guy best friend a chance in a relationship with you after your previous relationship failed...e

Native Of Death

Satish Verma

He had started his own manhunt 
for an autistic seal for a personal vision 
in deep waters. They had left him to die at bottom of pain. 
The silent screams against inhuman brutality 

started coming from underground. A photo 
montage was emerging on the walls. I 
dip my fingers in blood to write my name. 
Just the untitled truth will speak now. 

New species of frogs are making headlines. 
Men were becoming amphibians, sailing beyond 
the shores of kisses to bite. 

They were starving for the sun in caves, 
to watch the murals for a resume of flames. 
The snow was covering the peaks of shame.