Fervor

Gaze upon the thirsty masses,
round callow eyes,
in their fervor,
clouds turns to ash,
and bombs scar the
night sky; golden fireworks
cascading
like entrails
into greedy mouths
and empty bellies,
as the bloodlust
crescendo
breaks apart the
empty temples and
brazen bulls,
the earth
take them all to
her bosom
to eternity's
rest.

Untitled

Turning away, the frail old bones - a dimly lit prison
only window to the soul, light the pathway with
rosy incandescence, ring the heart's torch
with a drunkards heavy haze, content
again the leafy clouds embrace,
while dewy phrases uncoil,
like the hangman's
noose, softly
swirling
fragments of
the mind, thoughts
trickling into silver
goblets, and layered smiles
sickly sweet, like the dance of
bees swaying in summer's wispy wind,
with kings and gods, death and the goddess,
festooned in the midnights' gloaming, forever an
acrid tale for minstrels at the doorsteps of the unholy.

Restless Leaves

Wither away in the
restless leaves
like stained red flames
against an orange sky,
the embers sway in
a lustful whisper of the wind
and the icy sting, winter's breath
bleeds through a tattered mind.

Hollow limbs dance along the
edge of a lake of mirrors
in an infinite gaze,
rain, tranquil in the mist,
as the soul flutters away,
leaving the body to linger,
in the restless leaves,
with a dagger through
the shriveled heart.