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Voices In the Wind

Standing on the barren mountaintop the wind is like a whip.
Beneath me the turkey vultures soar by me once again.
Why do I feel I’m on the edge barely clinging by my fingertips?
Listening to the Voices In the Wind.

Oh, the contradictory clauses in the things we do and say.
I really think I’d fit in here, if I could only find my place.
While all the time we’re packing bags to go and search for better things. ...

gouge me with a
turret and
clean out my
pores,
scatter my
bones so that
vultures can
sing

i'd like to
pretend
that i am still
clean but the
mirror of hades
is grinning at
me

***this still awaits revision and is not the finished version***

i have been thirsty-
i do not mean
like one in the desert;
that i could stand.

i have craved water
with it all around
holding my cup out under
rivers tumbling

cascading heavily
threatening
to drown
but my cup
remains empty i
cannot be cleansed

and the guilt remains
tattooed on my skin
...

Self Portrait II

A dash of vibrant color, or some inner spark
Flows to the canvas from my broken heart.
Should I follow up my varicolored plastic dreams—
Knowing some more drab, more realistic, might never be seen?
What is the exact hue of the legacy
That I will leave on this canvas—left behind me?
Borrowed crimson emotions, aquamarine tears,
A bit of deep jet shadow here and there—
Golden glow of hope, cornflower blue ...

Mom, please, please,
please stop breaking the dishes.
They did not a thing.

I flee from the kitchen
to the safety of my bedroom
and tightly shut the door.

But I am no more spared
in my room than the kitchen
from roars of exploding China.

I drown the noise
letting my stereo be
my sole refuge.

I clutch my head in despair
as another plate flies down
only to be shattered. ...