I sat watching

all the worldly riches surround

filling layers upon layers of naked flesh

yet the crown still lays bare, forgotten

the crowning epi-tome still missing

stories of broken hearts and fruitless ideas

stacked tome upon tome written in blue blood

sit gathering dust in corners of sunken marbles

no written word can describe such loneliness

have you ever heard a whale cry?

a soul wrought with desire, scorned with loss

the presto and andante of every

beat each second marks discontinuous discourse

that thing which worldly riches cannot buy 

not touch, nor taste, nor sight, nor heard

in these tomes lies the crown that sits upon the crown

shivers of feelings intratomized

When words start to lose their meaning, what then is the difference between growing up and growing old?

Night Parade

The night parade comes as I stare at bright lit flowing words
atop the counter. lying silent a mash of food and moving water watches
the tick tock of the night parade
a creeping march not unlike rolling tides from a distance

the soldiers bearing swaddling arms and soft downy comforters
stand firm as I breathe softly into the evening sky
the tick tock of the night parade
counts sheep, one by one by one
sheared

Hypnos, a god I scorn, walks to the sleepless me
bringing blankets of starry skies and shiny moons
the tick tock of the night parade
marches in tune to the written symphony of shimmering stars and wispy clouds
as the music plays of crickets chirping and silence all around

heavy eyes and drowsy mind, my heart beats ever slowly
tuned to the tick tock, tick tock
the tick tock of night parade

Sounds in a shell

Blink.
staring out across the myriad of shades
is it so difficult to observe the flowing rays?
dotted with open ohs and penetrating lines
these are the flagships crossing the asynchronous waves
the crash of souls on impenetrable rocks
clash horribly with soothing whish whoosh of the rising and falling tide
do you hear the lustrous sounds of the creatures of the sea?
the whistles of the dolphin to the deep rumble of the whales
individual crescendos of nature's calls
the laws defy Gauss

The Big Bangcrunch

Empty bottles of wine
brimming glasses of aged scotch
do you imagine a monocled man?
or the monopoly man?
Girls all around in the VIP rooms
a growing network of importance
I am missing just my cane and Cuban

A lonely bachelor pad
with enough space for two
two week old food sits rotting in the fridge
while months old steak gets freezer burn
dirty clothes scattered across the ground
unsurprisingly, a bed unmade completes the room

who cares for the letters after a name

or the small font words speckling a white card

why consider things so commonplace

when there are so many things left unique

My footprints have fossilized
as I reach for the stars
everything else that matters has died

Frequented Tavern

watch the ladies pass by
one by one they exit out the swinging creaking door
each one a lost chance of happiness
squeaks of rusted hinges represents the laziness of inaction

is it too late to chase the ruins?
after years of misuse, corrosion hardens the once innocent door
along the sides are screwed in bolts and chains that always allow exit
never entry, so when the slam of anger reaches the ears of new strangers
only unsettled, dirty glass separate the reminiscent souls

I turn around and rejoin the drinking
expecting yet again for the aged door to close many more times
all the while knowing that a replacement will never come
maintenance is out of town

indefinitely