Nite Dreams Leave Me Be

Clawing at me like a meth addict's itch..and it's an itch one cannot scratch..driving and crying and screaming and dying...they nip at me like night fennel afraid to close my eyes that I might not awaken...to hasten the day with smiles and play when darkness is death in a time capsule catapulting me through an infinity of invisible monsters craving my blood..I run but can I escape the flood of emotions and potions dreams and devotions I climb and climb to the top of the well gasping and grappling for night time's due dwell on a swell of luck I pierce the light only to be sucked back down the deepest depths...where I scream but no one hears...and I struggle but no one is there...alone with the schemes and themes of demons and dreams..I beg in my boldest blues..night dreams leave me be.

Lack of....

Tossing and turning..night dreams nipping at my heels heeding rest like a rock slide racing down a mountainside...My Monday fun-day is going to be hell in the hay stack....can I make it? The little engine that could can't ...maybe.

My Delicate

Sensitivity like a single celled organism bouncing  between two walls colliding like rain against death only mocking the morning due in a springtime meadow...screaming louder than  crickets... faster than salmon on their way up a forever hill leading to a vast nothingness touched by a cloud of color that bleeds only red....a crimson and clover, send him on over, because he knoweth all but the bird's call and the bear's brawl..with sharp teeth like swords that cut into fangs of fondness...I cry oh I cry, why must the apple of my eye cut like a knife and take away the life of such an empathetic egg shell, cracked into a zillion pieces of gold reduced to only glitter and the freezing cold....faster and faster I run into the verdant vegetation, the edge of salvation, a decaying nation of voices and pain..but all will be better when comes does the rain.

Dream Space

Some things belong in dreams...the magical can squeeze them so far from the realms of dream space that they almost appear real, but when it's all said and done, they are really all still just ...dreams.

Inner World Called Me

McKinnon the Dean of Screen,
guide to unexplored lands,
and creatures unseen,
invisble hands,
where no one has been.
she will lead you there,
and leave you to find your place,
where hearts will tear,
and companions embrace,
so open your eyes,
and be ready so see,
ivory castles rise,
and the inner world called "me".


Poem sent to me :) I love this stuff!

The Mystery

I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am the ox of the seven combats,
I am the vulture upon the rocks,
I am the beam of the sun,
I am the fairest of plants,
I am the wild boar in valour,
I am a salmon in the water,
I am a lake in the plain,
I am a word of science,
I am the point of the lance of battle,
I am the God who created in the head the fire.
Who is it who throws light into the meeting on the mountain?
Who announces the ages of the moon?
Who teaches the place where couches the sun?
                                     (If not I)
This poem is ascribed to Amergin, a Milesian prince or druid who settled in Ireland hundreds of years before Christ 
and is from the Leabhar Gabhala, or Book of Invasions.

The Forest...

The forest is dark and quiet and deep,

beware it lulls you to sleep,

there is a prize at the end of the wood,

life demands we seek what we could.

by Kevin Lenihan