My Poems

Massive, bolted door of oak
Years asleep. I approach. It awoke.
Barring my way, it impinges
With crusted, rotted, rusted hinges.

How can this be, in front of me
I see this beast with horn,
Horn so bright on head tonight,
The legendary Unicorn.

A thought says this just cannot be.
Insanity has set foot on me.
I blink my eyes, then realize
Her winged regal majesty.

With a rumbling, roaring,
Swishing, sound
Cloaked in pyroclastic cloud,
I eternally free-fall
In a slowly grinding tumble
Rushing swiftly toward the ground.

What if time is only linear?
A when –
A now –
A then –

Blessed be the ties that bind
Hands of criminals behind,
The ones who prayed with boys
As toys for their own private use.

For safety reasons, the nets required.
But the great Bandini soon retired,
All pumped up and now inspired
To give his last best show.

Carry on waging war.
Carrion is all you train for.
Your price is paid
When young are laid
Underground,
Who have not found,
Nor ever will,
A ripe old age—
A life fulfilled.

They say that I was drunk that night.
The night the child came into sight
And crossed the road in front of me.
So dark the road – so hard to see.

Through my scope, I see a ship
Rise on a distant shore.
Her sails all ragged, tattered, torn,
Rotted, battered, weather worn.