Friday, March 4, 2016

in the vintage frame.

Through the golden vintage frame..
I see the beautiful drapes...
the window...
my coffee cup in white fragile ceramic with the silver lining.....

candle lit after dark...
laughter filling in for music...
tears held through hugs...
and overemotional friend who would do anything for me...

day dreaming a valid past time..
faraway places seen through the words of nomads...
everything looked precious...
the ink, the paper,the blonde and blue eyes...
paintings made by hand....
empathy ruling your head...
I want to live in this antique dream...
and be Human...

white soul in the black forest...


A gentle breeze of shattered glass,
a deep swim in the dark river, 
with open eyes...
and a dripping soul... 
I see a spine bent human, 
holding to the black thunder....
...........
with a smile and a tear

Engulfed in the music of white noise... 
blinded  in a vaccum of white light.. 
with clutched fingers
and screams inside my head...
I see a dangling body of slender woman
moving to the music of my screams... 
.......

 with no face nor eyes....

cold breeze splitting my skin...
warm blood oozing in my wounds... 
Hands frozen
Soul broken, 
crawling
through the dead leaves... 
I heard a humming.... No singing... 
"ta rumpum ta rumpum,
turn around
turn around
ta rumpum ta rumpum
run along 
run along
ta rumpum ta rumpum"
and a whisper 
chilling my spine
" I am the black forest"