Monday, October 1, 2007


There's peace in dreams, and terror too-
Sometimes the ghosts will speak
Sometimes they come for company
Sometimes for words unsaid
Sometimes to warn the living
Sometimes to mourn the dead
They come to tell their tales true
And find the dreams they seek


I spread my tracers carefully-
There's five per magazine
My enemy is no giant
No modern day Goliath-
He's just an ordinary man
But still I guard them carefully
My five well-chosen stones
To kill a man like you and me

Growing Up

Once, in my youth, I dreamed
Strange things and stranger place
The inky void above that seemed
To dare my mind to race
To twist the tails of ice and fire
And ride the wind to space
I did not lack then for desire
To see the warring cease
But it took fighting in the mire
To grant those dreams their lease
In my youth I dreamed of younger things
But now, I dream of peace.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007


Deep within the forests
Atop the mountain peaks
There's blue and green aplenty
But less of other hues

Crimson burns the brightest
Of the rarer shades
It quickens in the sunset
And marks the death of leaves

For crimson's fleeting beauty
Foretells beauty's end.

The Ferryman

The tunnel sharp descends to light-
Charon's gloomy calm abates
Bring the boat, boys! There's work tonight!
A load or two from a firefight!
War-slain, ho! Your ship awaits!
Just a copper, if you please-
For passage 'cross these dire straits
To bear you to the final gates
Charon's laughter turns to pleas-
It's not so bad in Hell, you know;
I'd gladly trade and take my ease
And leave others to ply the seas.


I am the land
-the land of ten thousand years
-the land between the rivers

I become a part of you
-and you of me
-you eat me
-you drink me in

I will cling to some of you
-eat them
-drink them in
-exhale them clean again
Across my rivers

I am theirs as they are mine
I am after they are gone
I am the land


Like a shimmer in the desert sun
That twists and weaves before the wind
And passes, once the day is done
I can not touch
I do not watch
All I do will turn to sand
The work I've done will meet its end
And blow like vapor 'cross the land
I am not here
I am Mirage