8/1 to 8/4/10

8/1/10

The curse of a romantic nature
is to seek beauty
in the ashes and the dust
The blessing is
to sometimes find it
even when it isn't there

8/2/1o

Dawn
In my youth only seen as the end of the night
As a challenge to be faced in the hours
between last call and someone's bed
A finishing line to the rush and the heat
to be confronted with red eyes, sallow skin,
and designer sunglasses
It was a goal to be crossed
without thought, a temple to my follies
For then, my battles were yet to be fought

Dawn
Now seen as a beginning
A lover's kiss upon the neck of the day
And if now, I have no worlds left to conquer
the heat and the rush diminished
Yet the desire remains untouched
The want and the hurt
A different kind of longing
or perhaps the same
but expressed in a new way
How could I not love the dawn
as an ending or beginning

8/3/10

She is the shadows
in a film noir
The mist across the street lamp
on a London night
She is the mystery
that cannot be solved
The question unasked

CORNY, 8/4/10

He was once so strong
He stood taller than the sky
His voice roared like profane thunder
Now, I tower over him
His arms and legs are so thin
And his voice speaks in low grumbles
though still profane
But he taught me how to see the world
He gave me art and soul and hope
He loved always and does still
And without him
Without him I would be lost
Or more lost than I am
And in my mind
He is still so strong
and he stands ...
... taller than the sky