Trigger

Thunder's a trigger

that unlocks the decades,

time's not a harbinger,

change is a shape shifter

that strikes in an instant

turning something to ruins

but I am resistant. 

No,

I don't wither

waiting for no one at all

it hasn't failed my burdened heart yet

but can't deny that I still fall.

Under the Thunder

Sunlight struck me

in the middle of the night

it woke me in a fury,

unaware and prepared to fight.

Like a vision leaving my mind,

dreams drifting on lightning road

leave me amongst the adrenaline 

as my heart reveals tales untold.

I carry on under pure silver armor

now unafraid of a taste of hell.

Artifacts of a love extinguished

and scripture no one lives to tell.

Your reflection in my constellation,

across broken glass and icy sea,

you don’t know me anymore

but under the thunder you belong to me. 

The spirit is willing...

Halo on the Lake

Time should have warned us
of our ultimate shipwreck.
Dammit, I can still feel
your superficial hand upon me.
I have never seen your eyes
but I can feel the shine in my bedroom
You know we were cheated
and our love unrequited.

I graciously let go
to lies guised as love songs.
Looking back now,
I don’t know if it was worth it.
But I don’t know if it wasn’t,
I don’t know answers,
just questions by the dozen,
time’s turned me into
something able of feeling nothing.

Time should have warned us,
of affairs of the heart
lovers become strange
as seasons change
and faces flicker in the dark,
nothing ever stays the same.

There’s a halo on the lake tonight,
and music from open windows
vibrate the fine strings of my thoughts
as I search my pockets for a light.
I’ll be a lingering interval,
a moment reflected in moonshine.
We make the most of what we take,
and the things we learn to leave behind.

Capers

Talons sharpened and drawn I wait,

in the smoldering 

but still living remains.

There’s unnoticed ashes

drifting undetected into your vodka.

I never thought you an angel

but God knows how I wanted to.

We see what we chose

and shut our eyes tight

as we willing free fall

into the clutches of lost causes.

Night again is my sentinel;

she arranges tokens and offerings

inside etherial music

echoing from this poets ink and scars. 

Magenta Rising

Honesty intrudes the unadorned hour

An unexpected breakfast in magenta shadows of wolves

-Love on a platter

pureed

creamed

frozen

melted

pulverized

molded 

sculpted

-And presented

Garnishing with laces of parsley and grenadine

She slumbered for hours, centuries

Awakened by a disheveled scream

Stirring the smell of cranberries

While other women dine on crumbs of their idolatry

You starve yourself

Nay, you’ll not find her ravenous curls

In the chocolaty abysses of Hell

Bring out the hammock and mirrors

We’re going to watch the sun rise with our backs to it.

-Kore Gleason

On the other side of stately morning;

You’re undressing into more comfortable attire

Of cranberry kisses

and slumber sweetly

Simmering in the heat of unventured love

Smoke filled

dryly chilled

finely willed

mercy killed

waters still

honey spills

Over her body

over her pristine bedsheets

And splashing to the floorboards to feed a monster

beneath it all

As I searched the world for precious things;

olive oil, a perfect circle and two identical snowflakes

She merely dreams with her mind so sharp

the nature of the beast is not slain

but cleanly rearranged under her instruments

Her night is my rising hour

To which I rearrange the words of my cobalt haiku

And slip between the strings of her magenta morning.

-a.s. barnabe

Ink

May ink connect us in all ways
and sew together our souls skin tight.
On these pages and on our flesh
we'll spill ink all over the night.
Ink will write sacred rites
which can never be undone.
Ink will mark us yours and mine
and bend the moon and sun.
Ink will draw the plans
of a future building empires.
We'll be safe behind the fine face
of a phoenix straight from pyre.