Just Another One of Those Poem Things in the Works

Making a Meaning

Can anyone make sense of life, real sense?
Who can call the cards before they fall?
Who can sing the song of the prophetess?
Life is splayed before our eyes and
even then
the sense has left us.

There is no waiting in the wings for the
Bird of Paradise has gone the way of the Phoenix.
The electric sensation of the heartbeat filled kiss
prolonged and left for wanting
in the memory of
beings.

Singing in the soul the creation of beauty
the lifeforce of the fermata
which slips into silence and
exhilarates the blood in the living creature;
we who crawl into the
world of forgotten midst and
burst into fury.

There is no collar for the savage
creator of our own mind.
The deck cannot be stacked or
counted on for anything but
the toss of the dice and the lady
whose luck is not her own.

Beyond the door of the setting sun
the fire ignites the path of recollection
and foresight.
But who is it that can gaze on the
corona and still contemplate the fate
before them?

Where to Now?

Time for a new poem. I felt the need to create today and so, here is the first draft. Where it goes from here is anyone’s guess. Don’t mind the picture (45grave); it doesn’t really go with the poem. I just felt like being a bit obscure.

Far Away

Far away the world falls
into a blackend oath after
scaling the nerve of
scratching nails down the chalkboard

Watching letters of no one fly
past the window of opportunity
into a dark night of
anxiety and pleasure

Shock absorber walls keep out
undesirable thoughts
and deeds
Inside a trapped innocence
battered, broken, bleeding

The lives of many hold
the few torn remnants of a
wishing world turned inside out
Ready to take on the
Master

Far away she sings in the garden
looking out into humanity
feeling, pleading, loving,
vigilant.

Caressing the moment of respite
that has become her anchor
of redemption
creating a new life within
the tattered womb of isolation

The beginning moments of a
charitable love fall backwards
through the last sentiments of
a long ago day where time stands
still then erupts into echo

Far away they leave
forgetting that they once lived
sheltered in the garden where
the echoes of birth have faded

Playing the Catch Up Game

I’ve been introduced to a new phenomenon. Well, ok maybe it’s not exactly new but I’ve never been exposed to it or any thing like it. I’ll spare you the tension…it’s Facebook. Ooo and you thought it was going to be something all out of the ordinary didn’t you? I never got on the My Space kick so I really don’t have any knowledge when it comes to these places. So far, I do like it. It was rather overwhelming at first; there was just so much to take in, but I think I’m adapting now. I’ve been able to have closer contact with many of my friends and I’ve even been reacquainted with a dear friend from my childhood.

It’s sort of bizarre, though, that the technology seems so busy. One would think that a person with a degree in Computer Technology wouldn’t have such a freaky experience with something like Facebook, but here I am. I’m sure that being out of the industry since 2001 has had its effect and left me behind the crowd, but still. I guess the only thing I can figure is that I was a network person more than an applications type. It’s just amazing, though, to find how advanced even the networking has become. So…my amazement aside, that’s what I’ve been doing the last couple of days…working on Facebook.

Yes, that means that I have also neglected my PAD Challenge although I’m not out of luck. I have a few poems to go to finish off the 30 that were requested and I do plan on finishing those. Why, you may ask? Ok…I’ll tell you. It’s because Writer’s Market, the creators of Poetic Asides, have put forth a contest using the November theme poems. Participants are to select 10 -20 of their poems and put them together into a submission where they will be judged. Now, at the moment the only “prize”, so to speak, is bragging rights; it has been mentioned that a really good win may be submitted for a chapbook publication. So, I’m going to submit my work and keep my fingers crossed. Please keep yours crossed for me. Thanks. The winner will be announced February 2nd.

Other catch up news, this weekend is Vampire game weekend. My character is on the verge of being killed due to my “OMFG She Didn’t” experience. It seems that a scape goat may be needed since last game the masquerade was broken when the video made it out to the WWW. This, of course, is very bad for me. I am currently hiding out and may have to abandon my clan and turn to the Toreadors for aid. All of this does seem to be in accordance to our game master’s plan so…I guess this horse will drink deep of the water she has been led to. If anything majorly exciting happens I’ll throw out an update after the game.

As for the bad news….R was notified that the transport company he works for will be eliminating 60% of their workforce by March. Gotta love this economy, huh? We don’t know for sure yet if he will be a part of the elimination, it’s a waiting game now. The cuts will include people from every level, though, so the possibility is certainly there. To my understanding it means over a hundred jobs. Our area here has been hit with this news, and the news of about another 300 – 400 other job losses as well. Hold on folks…it’s going to be a bumpy ride!

Where have all the people gone?

It’s crazy! Crazy I tell ya! It can’t be true! Surely there must be people out there somewhere. But if there were someone, wouldn’t they have commented by now? I guess I’ll just carry on all by my lonesome. (hint, hint) K, now that I have that off my chest perhaps I’ll be able to move on.



I’m watching a program on the National Geographic Channel about Stonehenge, called “Stonehenge Decoded”. A new theory has given rise to an archeological dig in the surrounding fields. Apparently this man believes it was used as a religious place where the souls of the dead were believed to be held. They’re looking for evidence of a civilization that existed around the same period. I guess we’ll see how it turns out. Ooh, update, they have found the largest known settlement in northern Europe for that time (4,500 years ago) the population well into the thousands.

So, I also read an article today about life on Mars. Scientists have found massive glaciers on Mars that are not near the polar caps. One of them is the size of L.A. and over half a mile thick. They said that with that much water it is possible that life could have existed. They would like to see if they can find any organisms locked inside the ice. Cool.


I’ll close with my day 20 PAD challenge. We had to complete the refrain we wrote on the 3rd day. Here it is. That’s all I’m going to talk about today. Feel free to comment, that way I may begin to believe that I’m not alone.



Some nights I walk in
my garden
outlines of formal paths
display the healing herbs of
classic medicine

Inside the borders a boundless
Zen – peaceful retreat into
breath and passage
creating solitude in an
aching world

Aromatherapy, soothing sanctuary,
the essence of stillness bottled
into dried petals whose
flowering has called me
to amble in their midst

As creation blossoms
within the garden’s sacred places
I am
carried back inside the house
where we touch
in the most tenderess sleep

Some Ketchup...er...Catch Up Please

K, so I haven’t been writing again. You should know by now that it happens. I was playing catch up today on my Poem A Day challenge. I fell behind on that, as well, and found myself having to write, um..yep, six poems. But…on the plus side I think it really put me into a poetic type mood and I really got into it. I’m posting three of them here. The last one…I don’t know…maybe the pressure of having to write so many poems at once caused the break but…I found that I just couldn’t resist. Enjoy. Please feel free to comment on them. I would really like to have the feedback. Thanks.

Day 11 – Deep thought or observational poem

I remember falling from my mother’s
drying body
to the ground. The earth was warmed by
summer’s light.

Laying on the soil nature had its
way with me
and covered my shell with earthly
debris

The world around me became dark I
felt winter’s breath
gliding its ice above me as I
hid swaddled in the dirt

Warmth began to permeate
my inner being
I wanted to live and to grow and I
unfurled the life within me

A tender sprout of green rose
up and into day’s light
I grew tall and strong - a beautiful flower -
in my prime

As days grew shorter I felt myself
weaken
Knowing my days were approaching end I
released my seed and mothered my own
life.

Day 15 – A nightmare poem

Leaves blow in the dark October
wind. Seedheads sprinkling their
hardened kernels
onto my face.

I try to rise from the tangled
earth that grasps my legs
with its vines of wrath. Falling
back into the ground.

Crying for aid in the twilight hours
no one hears but skeleton
stalks of herbs gone by
uprooted by panicked hands trying to
grip something unshakable.

Swallowed into the worms and
bugs, crawling across my face
my arms, my neck. Deeper under the earth
until I wake in bed and
brush the sweat from my dream.

Day 16 – Title Prompts
“If it (blank), It (blank)”

“If it (is planted), It (will grow)”

I planted a seed under the ground
I covered it with love
I watered it and gave it food
And watched it from above

I waited long and never strayed
I beckoned it to grow
As days and months came and went
My tears began to flow

I soon began to realize
That my seedling needed more
It would never see the light of day
Why did I plant it in the floor?

Day 6 of PAD

The challenge today was to write a poem of praise. This is what I came up with. Sorry the post is short; I have two articles that are quickly approaching deadline. So, without further waiting
Oh...and without a title...big surprise
Here's my poem of praise




Rose petals in the air
tossed in screaming
jubilation beckon the ground
landing to patterns of whimsy

Scents spring through the air
as pointed spires of rosemary
brush like feathers and
tickle my face

Kitties roll, they dig,
knock over containers of cat mints
as peppermints watch
safe from the scurry

Spider, brown and yellow like
fallen leaves of autumn
awaits its supper dodging
back and forth in webs of
graceful steel

Life, life sings its living
song and dances through
the waiting days of
tomorrow.

Let the Challenge Continue

Nicholas Culpepper


It’s the second day in the PAD challenge. I’ve written and posted my poem. The prompt was to make a declarative poem. I created mine with the voice and perspective of Nicholas Culpepper a famous herbalist and physician of his time (1616-1654). Since my theme is Herbs it seemed to fit.
I’m actually pretty unhappy with the last stanza. I just don’t like it and I’m sure there’s a rewrite in the future. Anyone who would care to offer some feedback wouldn’t go unthanked…hint, hint.

Oh! One other thing that I wanted to mention.
Dave, a recent visitor to my blog has a poem on his site in which dialogue was used. I thought this was a really neat idea and so…decided to give it a try myself. Thanks Dave for the inspiration.

Alright – Here it is

Culpepper’s Declaration

“The shrub is so well known by every boy and girl
that has but attained
the age of seven years, that it needs no description.”

How is it now, how could I see
that so few elder
and scarcely a child know - not even by name
or less by sight – Barberry

“The face being washed with the distilled water
of them – cureth the reddest face
that is.”

Cucumbers now
the women slice and like pennies
on the eyes they lie to the
swollen bags dismay.

“The juice of the leaves is a remedy
against the bites of serpents,
and for those that have taken
Aconite.”

Baked in pies to fill the stomach
Mulberry treats now warm
the heart. Feed the body
and the devil’s forgot.

Endless flows of time
resonate adversarial motion toward
arts of old once held dear
now enter this day all things are new
but plants still live and grow
as I find peace beneath them.

Poetry for You

Well, I’ve noticed that I really haven’t been writing any poetry lately. I’ve been writing, writing fiction, writing articles for two magazines, writing in my blog, even writing some monologues but no.. that’s zero, notta, zip, zilch…poetry. So…

I found myself at the Poetic Asides blog where there is usually some really decent poetic activity going on. I was rewarded with a PAD (Poem A Day) challenge. Robert Lee Brewer has decided to challenge readers to create a chapbook by writing a poem each day that focuses on your chosen theme. He will provide prompts for each day’s writing. Of course, this just seemed to be one of those things that falls into your lap, slaps you in the face, and yells “Hey stupid! Wake up; you wanted to write poetry, well, here’s your chance!”

Um, yes, I heard the call and I’ve decided to go for it. I made my theme “Herbs” and have written the first one. Robert refers to this poem as “The Hook” the one that draws the reader into the theme. I’ll probably be posting quite a few of my PAD poems throughout the month of November. That’s how long the challenge lasts. I hope you enjoy and I would very eagerly welcome any feedback from friends and/or critics.

I seem to have a serious problem coming up with decent names for my poems so this one is still unnamed. If anyone has a suggestion I wouldn’t mind considering it. I don’t know what it is about naming a poem. It’s just so hard for me; nothing ever seems good enough for it. I don’t know *shrug* So, without further ado here’s “The Hook”

Foods ring pungent in my watering mouth
fresh as melting sun and living fire.
Sick bodies are guided back to bloom or
granted merciful passage into summerlands.
Apparel liberated from a lackluster life
released into a world of effulgent hue.
Witness to the sight of flowing fields that dance a tempoed waltz in the wind
they sing in their garments - the bells of mother’s ball.
Bearing alms that are gathered by diverse desire
defenseless immolation scattered to aspirations of imagination.
Generations, heirloom spirit sprawls the boundless sphere,
antics of delicate stature camouflage wellborn privilege;
worshipped by some unnoticed by others
rooted in the soil of human animation.

The Newest Poem

Follow the wave;

Flow from the ground as
the muddied grass stands to attention
calling the sun
Clinging to depths of processed
mass media

The rain beckons new emotion
answering the plea of tolerance
and the infirmity of a neglected way
making waves
Satellite photographs replace fatality with
sentiments of wired embrace

Breaking the shore

Washing over banks of billboards and wall paintings
the flower has begun to open
Headlights glide into daylight
Running distances of faith.

Course of action breathes into the breeze.
The song travels into
electricity’s rampant weaving while nerves jump to

impact the calling of
a beloved to the exception
of daylight’s fragrance.
It lingers like sweat on the lip.

Submerge the planes

Storm across reasoned minds and reflective souls.
The rice patties scream from necessity to
the lost generation who promised to
put it right.

Worldly knowledge estranges itself
from the beginning of time – lacking we progress –
disassembled pieces of creation blanked
out into pairs or tri folds, of flesh

Obsession brinks disheveled ways
floating on persistence. Ordered thought, brought
to its knees
as we back out of the river
and into a life of fascination.

Waldorf Salad

Well slap my rump and call me a happy camper. I just finished carving out a new sewing nook in the basement for myself. I’m pleased with it; I think it will be a nice place to leave the world behind and get my creativity flowing.

What else…? I also burned three new CDs to listen to at work. It should help make the days pass more pleasantly. I need to remember to bring some ferns with me tomorrow, too. I’m exchanging them for some Hostas. That will complete my front yard planters. They have a northern exposure and are filled with ferns, hostas, lily of the valley, and ivy; I think it will look splendid. Did I mention I have some new CDs?....Currently listening to “Love-Tragedy” by the Cruxshadows; I’m a happy camper; yippie! I love getting new music.

Oh, I should probably explain the whole Waldorf Salad thing, huh? Remember the “poem a day challenge” posted on Poetic Asides? Well, two of my poems were selected as highlights. One was my poem “How Waldorf Salad Behaves”. The prompt for that day was, “How ____ Behaves” where we had to fill in the blank. I have no idea why Waldorf Salad came to mind. I’m just peculiar that way, I guess. The second poem was an Alfred Hitchcock prompt where we were supposed to provide a surprise ending. So, here they both are. I had fun writing them and I’m happy they were highlighted. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy like. That said, I’m going to cuddle up with my Wilkie Collins novel The Woman In White and call it a day. I had a nice weekend; it was relaxing. I needed that. Whoot!

How Waldorf Salad Behaves

In its creamy bed of mayonnaise and sugar
and lemon juice

The crisp apples bite back at stalks of celery
and walnuts

Crunching with delight the flavors blend
to make a most delectable impression

Alfred Hitchcock Prompt -

The geese are chasing the people away
from their eggs, down by the river.
The lawn is a beautiful shade of summer green
decorated with romantic iron benches.
Look at the Hollyhocks showing their hues of
sky, and blush, and sun.
The day is open, flowing wide toward forever
and I’m so glad you came to visit.
Cobblestone steps guide the way back to the patio
which delivers its closure.
The electroshock therapy is going well
please come to see me again.

A Day In My Life

In the words of Mayor Richard Wilkins III, from Sunnydale, “Well Gosh”. It’s been such a busy weekend. It started out with me joining The League of Women Voters. That was actually rather fun. (Hey, don’t blow me a line of nerddom here. If the Buffy reference and D&D posts haven’t given you a clue already, then you may as well throw in the towel). At any rate, it was fun and now I have an opportunity to be more of an influence in my community. That alone should scare most people.

After the League I came home to a vomiting child. He wasn’t actually vomiting when I walked in the door. He waited until I got home and began to settle in and then tossed his cookies all the way down the stairway, through the living room and onto the bathroom floor. He was finished by the time he made it to the toilet. So, I spent the rest of the evening (until about 1:00 AM) scraping up pot pie and scrubbing carpet and walls with LOTS of disinfectant and then showering. Of course he wasn’t done; he had a repeat about 4:30 in the morning. Fortunately, I was prepared for that one and had a bucket on hand. I did, however, end up staying awake for a good long time after that and by the time I fell back to sleep the other kids were getting up. I crashed out of pure exhaustion until about 11:00; R got the kids breakfast. I think he felt bad for leaving me with “puke” duty; he has a weak stomach, things would have been much worse.

K, then after I get up and feed the birdies, have my coffee, do some laundry, and take another shower I head off to the store where I stock up on soup, jello, and crackers. I drop it all off at home and head up to campus for the Wolfson Awards and pre-award sessions with the guest author, Brock Clarke who has recently published An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England. I made it home about 9:00 PM and between putting on some jammies, getting the kids settled for bed and feeding the cats I am trying to catch up on my writing.

Tomorrow I have to write up some questions for the three interviews that I’m scheduled to do, Monday, for the Personal Profile articles I’ll be writing for Inside Granger, which is a flagship publication of the Tribune. Then I need to go see one of my daughters’ new apartment, because I saw the other daughters’ new house and now she feels neglected. They both just moved into new places within the last two weeks. Anyway, I’m going to go there at some time tomorrow, it still hasn’t been decided exactly when because…R and his brother will have the van, they’re going fishing, so my oldest daughter is going to come and pick me and the rest of the kids up and go see the apartment; this is, if none of the kids are puking. If they are, then I’ll have to wait until R gets home and go by myself Sunday night.

I still have plants waiting to go into the ground. I’ve been trying to get them in for about two weeks now. They’re going to die before I can plant them I just know it. Oh yeah, I have two poems to write for the Poetic Asides poem a day challenge because I missed last night due to pukage. Does it still count if I write two in one day instead? But despite everything, at the moment I’m writing and listening to X-Mal Deutschland so life is good and I’m content. Peace Out Man!

Another One of Those Poem Things

Oky doky -
Writer's Digest has a BLOG being done by Robert Lee Brewer. He's celebrating poetry month this April by providing a new prompt each day and challenging poets to write a poem everyday during the month of April and posting them to the comments section of the BLOG. I have to say, I think this is a really neat idea and I have been participating in it for the last three days now; since I found out about it. So, due to this I am posting the three poems that I have written thus far.

1st - the prompt was "An Object"

I've called this one - The Skull

Hollow sockets, peering
Orifice of scent
Cranial experience - plated bone
Absence of flesh and heat
Maxilla grinning its half smile
Poor Yorick

2nd - The prompt was "An Apology"

I've called this one (big surprise) - Apology

Pressure under foot
it’s all wrong
like standing on a rope.
Howling and hissing
frightened eyes dart at me
fleeing instinct she races across the room
turns back to me with my call.
Hearing the voice of love
the reassurance of “I’m sorry”
her tail recovers and hugs and cuddles return.

And 3rd, but not least, today's prompt "Music" we were to choose lyrics from a song and write about how they made us feel

I don't have a name for this one yet

On daze, like this
In times like these
I feel an animal deep inside
Heel to haunch on bended knees
- Sisters of Mercy; The Corrosion

Backward and laying on the beach
singing in the distant sun
the arrival of new flesh
Still passion absorbed into the night
a hooked moon on breaking glass
the loneliness of domination
The kind of love one waits for
beckoning the day but falling into
something else entirely
Howl for the ever after
and turn the shell upside down.

So that's it. I suggest you go to the site - check the side bar for "Poetic Asides" and you'll find it just fine. Then join in.

First Draft

Cradled drink of lover’s arms
Black kiss
Death’s love, waking to night
Gothic arch and lace
Shadows slink forward waiting
Moments of eternity
Marbled façade or truth
Captured in the pale moon
Screaming
Desire
Pleasure
Anticipation
Embraced the drink persists

Fruition

Sections of a mind
Citrus Fruit

Tortured emotions
Peel the psyche open
Untested remedies
Divide the soul

Flowering hymen
Pomegranate

Breaking into the abstract
Seeds spilling forth
Femininity meets masculinity
A distant mirrored image

Bushel of guts
Elderberries

The Christ complex with swollen belly
Picking viscera globules
Disembowelment causes shivering
Cradle the child no longer within

More D&D but in a poem

First, I'd just like to say that maybe I can get in the habit of writing at least once a week. That would be an improvement, sorry. I wrote this poem as a description of our ongoing D&D adventure. This is about our battle with the ancient white dragon. It is my hope that one may read this in a manner that could also imply a turbulant time in a relationship; therefore giving the decption concept a two fold meaning. What do you think?

In the desolate hour of a heart’s searching,
when our magic has entered the dead zone.
Forward into the pitched night of the cave’s mouth
along the sleek, sodden walls of the gaping hole
down into the water filled belly;
We travel.

The quaking feeling courses through the nerves
chilling the spine, waking the senses.
Fear is a misnomer but the body suffers the stabbing,
wretched echoes within just the same.
She rises from the arctic blue black depths,
with a consuming smile and a single claw
we are flung over the edge of our soul’s abyss.

Her authority to rend our spirit is more brutal
than a violent tempest. The icy paths leading to inconceivable
suffering is the preferred escape.
Within the caverns of recluse her power still emanates
reminding us that she alone has control.
Struggling to be free from the frozen prison
the heart longs for the comfort of a spark.

Forsaking the trodden bones beneath, we move
onward to the colossal doors before us. Seeking our doom,
our serenity, whichever.
The ancient mistress knows the game she plays,
Our hearts, our souls quiver in the knowledge,
but the pain must cease; we must win our prize.

Deception, a wicked attempt to break the mind;
it brings about the crushing blows that have landed
on the heart with such success.
Victory, overcoming the illusion of control; it brings
about another tomorrow. More than hope; it has been conquered
because illusion is real when one believes in it.

Genesis

I guess I'm feeling a bit dark today. This was off the top of my head, maybe I'll work on it, maybe I won't:

Genesis

And God said Let the earth reign
And mankind grew to hatred, bitterness, and lust
And God said Let Heaven reign
And mankind killed one another
In the name of the righteous

And God said What is this form that I have created
And mankind answered, We are void, from the void we came
And to the void we will return
And God said Why have I created this form
And mankind said To give us domination over all things
And God said Why have I created this Heaven
And mankind said So that you have a place to hide from mankind

And God said What will you do with this domain
And mankind answered We will destroy all that is precious to us,
All that will give our lives meaning and purpose
And God said Why did I not destroy this creation wholly
And mankind said Because we are God and we would not
Let you do so

And God said I will abandon this earth to its own destruction
And mankind reveled in its glory
And God retreated to his Heaven and hid there for all eternity
And mankind said This is good we are free
And mankind found fear in death and so recreated God
In mankind’s own image

And mankind’s God said I will destroy
All that mankind has befouled
And mankind’s God destroyed his own image
And mankind said Why can’t we touch God
And God said Because what you have created is false
And mankind said Is it too late
And God said mankind has chosen its own course
Therefore the answer can only be found in mankind
And Mankind said We care not to think on it any longer.

Poetry Post

So, I mentioned that I would post some of my writing soon. Here are a couple pieces of poetry that I’ve done. The first one I began working on the other day. This is a first draft and so it will change, I’m quite sure, before the final revision. If anyone has some constructive criticism to offer, I’d love to hear from you. The second is a piece that I’m hoping to have published in the Analecta (Our college undergrad art magazine) this spring.

It’s All in a Dream

Car wreck
It didn’t want to fit
up over the curb
and through the trees
I need a jump

Jonny to my rescue
adoring his Christ image
poised for the crucifix
The gratitude his and mine
felacio on my knees

Over my head two hands
appear, two index fingers
strike their way in through
his nipples, sucking the pleasure,
The force of release from him

Flee, the threat has found you
Across the lacquered boards of the gym floor
Avoid the glass security cage
You fool. Bound over the ropes
Freedom awakes.


Labyrinth - (Our Club in Detroit)

Down the dark stairs into the
safety below; punks, rivet heads,
romantics, elder goths, technos,
industrials and fetish goths swirl
in a sea of black hair and
undulating bodies.

In the shadowed corners candle
wax molds itself to table tops.
Cigarettes spill over ashtrays
soaking up the liquor of half
empty glasses. Black glitter covered walls
dance to the beat of flickering light.

Essence is created in movement
as bodies coast through conversation,
minds benumbed by the sound that
each creature experiences
in their own way,
but comprehends
as an archetypal knowledge.

All know, that here is where they belong.
The existence of a familiar compassion
lingers in the air. The lies within the truth
are exemplified. Death and darkness, mourning for
man’s inhumanity to man are necessary if
we yearn for light.

A culture like no other, shedding intolerance
like old paint. Liberation is the manifestation
of the art,
and it is an art,
all of it.
Caressing the mind with lover’s hands
as the soil swaddles the seed
whispering to it - that it should grow.

Observe the dance as the soul masters
the elegance of gothic beauty
with no intrusion
into another body’s space
yet
boys and ghouls develop into a faction
swallowing all in a corporeal transcendence.

Night lingers in every place but one -
where the glaring lights of the ghoul’s room
contracts the pupils. Instinctively
hands shield faces like vampires in the sun.
Gangs of Dresden Dolls
fix their black lips and eyes
at the reflecting station
because we do reflect. Despite the rumors.

The solace of affinity pulsates like
blood through the veins when you
return to the dark – a peaceful descent
to the tomb. Covenant’s “Deadstars” calls
the body and mind back
into the sanctuary –
where Carpe Mortem is branded
on everyone’s heart.