Tag Archives: solace and refuge

All Too Soon

Two rooms, all alone, where I can be anyone.

               I can be the man that gives her a gold ring.

               I can be Archangel Michael, slaying the Red Dragon.

               I can be whole and good and full of light.


               Two rooms, my home, where I dream

               And write the words that bleed out poison.

               Where I dream of a love that might save me.

               Where I fear the death of warmth in humankind.


               I can dream my love into my amrs, as I lay in bed,

               And make believe there’s anything for me to give her.

               I can dream her fingers touching me, her kips kissing me,

               Can dream us making love and dreaming on a rainy afternoon.


               Two rooms, where I can imagine keeping out death

               And the war coming all too soon, and the heartbreak

               Of never finding the place where it all makes sense

               And they welcome you with open arms, just as you are.


               Two rooms, a tiny paradise, that will burn like Eden

               In the war coming all too soon.

Tough Fists

Tough fists shadow boxing in an alley.
Valley of Death, valley of loss, of night,
closing in, punching the dark strips
of the night, unburned by the stars.
 She is sweating, tired and taut, wire
pulled too tight over too far a distance.
The shadows are coming down, eternal.
She might break and snap open the sky.
 Silent, but there are sirens, laughing drunks,
and distant music, and people who are free.
Silent, but the darkness in her head, in her life,
the shadows getting hooks in her flushed skin.
 What can she fight, that cannot be touched,
cannot be lost like sanity and love and passion,
that lingers forever in these nights and heartbreak?
Fighting others in the ring will be over, be won.
 But shadows never leave, only cast back by momentary light.
And light fades, and becomes distant, and leaves us defenseless.
She boxes the shadows coming down on her, on her world.
Never ending, never defeated, just pushed back, for a moment.
 A laugh. A touch. A kiss. But always waiting, always roaring back in the night.


Paying for attention, coming here to see her.
It alieves the cold for a moment, I can play along.
All smiles and warm eyes, all soft words and winks.
But at the end of the night, the money is all gone
and it’s still lonely and sleepless hours ahead of me.
Is it real, is it an act, is it me putting myself on the hook?
I don’t know, but when the money goes, there’s no more.
I’m drawn to her and the dream in my head, and it seems real.
But I pay so much for her smiles and warm words and kindness.
She has the time if I have the cash, but she’s not coming for dinner.
So lonely and left behind, none of the others have the time for me.
So I come to see her dance, to see her give me the illusion of love.
Time to leave forever, and try to build something real in my ruined kingdom.

I Still Dream Here

Emperor screams out of the laptop. Videos of girls surfing flickering on the screen.
The sea is far, far from this golden plain, but death is right outside my window.
Cleaning my AR-15 as the screaming music can’t quite drown out the undead.
The violent music brings peace, and those girls on see remind me of the light.

This one attic room, up in the tall old Victorian mansion, left for the undead,
the undead and those left to watch the world rot away, all we made ruined.
This one attic room, I’ve made a light in the dark, a place my own after all is lost.
I still dream here, even as the demons have won, and are laughing in heaven.

 The old grocery store is almost out of canned goods, the reserves of fuel drying.
My little world will go dark, and what little I have left, music and vision and my words,
will be gone, unless we somehow beging again, on down the road, on down the line.
A girl surfs a blue and perfect wave. I remember, youth, freedom and fullness of hope.
 I remember………………….


Israeli woman from a past year, me and her sharing wine.
Lost all hope for a resurrection, a saving grace, from Galilee.
Just drink our wine, and hold close, as the sea eats up the sun.
There’s no comfort left in the stars, no kisses sent by the moon.
 No rocks or bread, no devil to tempt us, just the foolishness of hope.
We lay together, look at night sky, the one and only miracle of light.
We make love in the depths of the darkness, to sweeten our death.
One flesh, but no spirit is kindled, the seed falls onto the hard ground.
 And morning come, will come when all is barren from man’s infernal fire.
The sun mocks us, offers a cruel hope, a sanctimonious reason for living.
We are naked in the last shred of soft darkness, of cool and empty delight.
The sun on our skins is warm, but touch leaves no traces, only ugly scars.

Only From Angels

She is a ghost, grey gossamer and a breath of a chill.
In this summer hot attic, full of mold and dust,
I come to see her.
Her eyes see me, and her words and distant bells.
I tell her of the world outside, and how nothing changes.
She tells me of fields of wild flowers
and napping by a clear, silver brook, and of the darkness
that was ever outside the corner of her eye, and the song
that came only from angels.
The chill is soothing, and in the hot quiet, we dream together,
our thoughts and memories mingled like fresh air and jasmine,
as the sun marches on.
She loves me. We cannot touch. She loves me. I cherish it.
The world outside is sorrow and disonnection, trying to catch eyes.
She loves me, and that is enough.