Archive for October 30, 2009

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , on October 30, 2009 by ravenstooth


It seems that we’ve been here before.

Over and over what a bore.

There no reasons for this ride.

With different people by my side.

All these illusions come to me- like delusional astronomy.

I could fall and throw right on back.

Everlasting fieldstone track.

Should I quiver in the snow.

Maybe, possible, I don’t know.

Then the autumn falls again.

And soon…I’m there with a strange new friend.

Is it time to reconcile. Awhile, I’ll smile at this slow time trial.

I’m on a lake that has an Indian name.

The glare from the sun on the water speaks the same.

There’s a Raven in the tree that I can’t see.

I call out to see that the Raven is me.

I try to fly away but I have to stay

This life I must play through today.

Weak in the knees, the trees, the wicked breeze.

Hearing the autumn fall. Like the leaves that squall.

Like the time we saw. The river run raw.

We had a blast out on the open flight.

Your daisies drew wilted memories on the account that we tripped.

Our touch and then we fled into the distant games of our minds.

Birds in their hover, the fields black, specked in movement.

I’ve waited a long time to discover- my glory unselfishly.

Freakazoid Skeleton…

Posted in poetry, Uncategorized with tags , , , , on October 30, 2009 by ravenstooth


Graveyards and the stands.

The calmness, the brands.

All echo from tunneled lands.

The doomsday, the sands.

All holler the beckoning.

Too courageous a thing.

Towards sorrow and the pity.

The burning ancient city.

Sacrifice towers and visions.

Flowers bloom their rendition.

Glory monster- see funny pocket.

The sun bled from the socket.

Half grasp the deafening.

The horror, so muffling.

In what’s known to endeavors strewn.

Calls out the lasting moon.

The crow flies with a croon



Left turn exit- the barrens and desert land.

The make-shift hotel. Here is the rights of passage..

Tomorrow the morning will share the warmth that’s unguided.

The creatures in the tall forest- skittish, weary, divine.

Our days fall oblong like repetitive unknown.

After we met and talked, I walked away wondering if our encounter really happened.

My reality lately feels unfortunately unreal.

Like the fog has encumbered most of my visual agreements.

Wake up- fall right in the path that has been askew for a long time.

There was a moment that every motion felt like a new discovery.

Now it’s their turn to bring on their own new unguided adventures.

Fly free- your wings are silk and clear. Talking to circles that end in rituals.

Mid-day boredom- the music encores the bluesy side show.

Push play, pause, stop, next, eject.