Monday, March 27, 2006

Untitled
--

His mouth was open - the life trickling out

The blood-soaked curb would leave nothing to doubt.

Two to the chest and one to the head

Yes, No one would doubt that this bastard was dead.

Though the night was long, made dark by hate

And the air felt thick with pity and fate.

The red of the blood and the black of the rain

Danced silently together in my painting of pain.

And I knew I should think it again.

He was dead.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

Nothing But Pain

--

We found ourselves caught in the complexity of sin,

The patron of temptations we felt back then.

The heat of passion, the cool of remorse,

The deceptive façade of the power of choice


But I fear now for life, for soul and for mind

I fear the Justice that I may soon find

But fear is only fear, this idea too abstract.

Not real, not solid, not really intact


So why does it hurt? Why do I care?

If fear is abstract, and our love without flare,

Why does my heart feel this culpable shame?

My carnal delusion brought with it only pain.


Nothing but pain.