No One Listens to the Prophet (a poem)

The prophet travels through the mountains
Reading the desolate landscape for signs
She misses her family dearly
She had to leave them all behind

The prophet had to go on a great journey
And warn the people of coming dangers
Recently she’s begun to worry
Of her society’s rapid changes

The people have lapsed into sin
And we all know what happens next
The great flood will soon begin
And wipe everyone off the map

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Is Nothing Sacred Anymore? (a poem)

Is nothing sacred anymore?
Or have we talked about this before?
I can’t remember

Tall shadows in the courtyard of my mind
Were designed to keep me confined
To the dust of civilization and its embers

Don’t act like you’ve never done it
The asylums where you commit
Your killing-spree benders

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Hauntings in the Dawn (a poem)

Ghosts in this house make no sound
They are only around to watch
Flashing images of my mind
And extract memories from times
I dwell in forsaken chambers

They belabor the process of death
Let’s get it over with, we say,
Let’s kill these emotions during
The bright light of the day –
Instead of waiting for fire-soaked
Nights under harvest moons
And pastures of bitter gloom

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Before the Altar, We Pray (a poem)

Before the altar, we pray
To gods of the forest-night
They hear us in our anguish

Remove us from televised carnage
And mass murder of dreams
In America, nothing is as it seems

We trek to the forest at nightfall
By light of neon and longing
It smells of fire-smoke and dust

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Where Does the Eternal Lie? (a poem)

Where does the eternal lie?
Some things can’t be seen with the eyes,
Like infinite doom-loops in my mind
And the everlasting disguise of
Angels and demons

The deity is malicious; he crushes me
Between endless surging waves
On undying shores of violence;
Where does the eternal lie?

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A Blazing Light in the Woods (a poem)

A blazing light in the woods
From where did it come?
Light speed it easily exceeds
Then I heard a loud thump

From where did it come?
This brilliant, mysterious light
Then I heard a loud thump
Everything was bathed in white

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Liminal Spaces (a poem)

What is this enchanted place?
You look as though you’re my killer
But no, you’re the savior of those
Lost to tendrils of dark philosophy

When I saw imprints of the Psalms
Tattooed on your grizzled face,
I knew straight away you’d save
Me from this god-forsaken place

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