Poem- Read Me With Wine

I go well with liquor

I’m a friend of wine


When I’m read with heavy head

I’ll take you far from time.


I’ll spike your dreams with monsters

swill nightmares and love


and when you wake my words will be

the ones you will think of.

Poem – A Sea of Skulls: Horde

Amid the green is chanting

over the hill heads sway

the rowdy toughs, growl and yell

the giant twisted fey


Eyes all full of lust

for women for land for blood

they poison air with foul stench

and paint the road with mud


Near to civilization

our calm defenseless home

they march nearly unorganized

lumbering too and fro


We’re racing round the tree line

horses hooves like thunder

lances punching silently

as we emerge from cover


No choice but to defeat them

less all we have be lost

we charge with mighty battle cry

and make them count the loss

Poem – Vile Joy

Vile joy oh bloody pleasure

Has me fainting with delight

Never have I seen such pressure

Brought upon a man in flight

Fleeing like a wasted mongrel

Freshly kicked and rightly spurred

Intolerable for its weakness

Pay the price oh fiendish cur

He fell in shade on Russian glade

Head crashing in the pungent wood

Screaming like a new born infant

Crying as no grown man should

Pascal with his lack of pity

Fell upon our babbling prey

Who begged our mercy and compliance

As if he had earned some say

Pascal laughing at his defiance

Brought his mighty rifle down

And with that single hammer blow

Exploded brains spewed ove’ the ground

Such was the sound and viscera that

Pascal stood there in shock

And all of us his favored kin

The forest our laughter rocked

Poem – Reveille

Sleep the silver moon is cooing

Soothing winds from sovereign lips

And her light it dims the sparking

Stars a lonesome comet flits


Sleep the skyward sea drains calmly

Shadows merging all below

Northern lights like scratches tally

The countless lights within the flow


Close your eyes it’s late for rising

Hear night sing the insects song

The lights out the window lying

To the dark man does not belong


Spare the lonesome cry of crime

The bustle of the streets is gone

You will close your eyes in time

The aging day exuding calm


Sleep son the fire of morn approaches

A tired man cant face the day

A night misspent your life it poaches

As to rest you do not have say


You’re not the sky always in motion

Close your eyes and die to time

Sleep son join the twighlight

For open eyes the suns a sign

Poem – Talk

I walk directed through the streets

A voice guiding me where to go

People my gaze they do not meet

Their faces fearful and alone


In every silent corridor

In every gaze cast to the ground

The dour shame the want for more

For what they search remains unfound


In each quiet fearful crowd

A misanthrope could find a brother

The buzz of headphones can seem loud

Muted youth in colors smothered


I catch a gasp of hopeful air

When with a steely pair of eyes I lock

That at least one other stranger dare

To defy the norms and talk

Poem – Hag

Neath the bustle of the streets

A silent huntress lay

A coat of mud and ick and shit

Hide her from her prey

Breathless wounded stumbling

Brings mirth to eyes so fey

He searching for an exit

To shun her with the day

Finally he finds it

A crack within the street

Encircled by sunlight

Safe from her deceit?

No matter for she rises

And smiles at his despair

For hags can stand the day just find

And he’s cornered in her lair

Poem – Luck

Leave it to chance

Fortune favors the bold

Just roll once more

The snake eyes stare cold


Feel the cool rattle

Each corner each edge

No telling what follows

Luck is a hedge


Peer through the green

To the next cooridor

This lifes but a maze

And death is a door


Shortcuts seem godsends

But each is a trap

Fortune is fickle

Her favors are black


Dots on a white die

Roll for the sixth side

Hopes a fools gamble

In which even cynics confide


So roll child roll

Leave it to chance

Just roll once more

Lets watch the dice dance

Poem – Dalliance

Her shop was in a city

Neath a giant number four

At first she seemed a pleasant sort

But I found her out the whore


She said she saught adventure

That she’d not stand a bore

And I can understand that

But I’m rotten to the core


A new man every day she had

And between every chore

She was quite a generous lover

So I came back for more


Hated by wives and mothers

As suitors never left her poor

But money never stopped a woman

From settling a score


And on one of her risqué evenings

Through her bodware tore

An angry wife with a knife

And my play mate was no more


So if you meet such a kind woman

One with an open door

Enjoy her while you have her mate

Cause she’ll be dead.

Poem – Polish Calvary

Winged crown siloueted by burning wood

Spear line far ahead

The polish riders sally forth

To mark the battle’s end

Accelerating roaring cross

The scarred forsaken field

Tramping wounded and dead alike

Neath hooves sheathed in iron

Tremble for it ends now

All is forever lost

Blood spilled is not recovered

No redeeming cost

Poem – Professor

The man whose favor I must curry

Alight with all his righteous fury

Academic blind to his hate

Humbly thinking himself great


He adores the adoration

Of those, stired by his conflagration

Every one that thinks the same

Us that don’t must feign a tame-

Complacement attitude about

What he says that we do doubt

Pretend to see a wisdom fair

When there is in fact nothing there


But the teacher’s job is to oppress

To slander lie and crush unless

The rebel totes the party line

The drivel they can get behind


Freedom means naught to a dean

They’ll ensure nothing else is seen

They claim they wish to spare offense

They strangle speech this their defense


While once they rose they now slip down

And soon we’ll steal their gilded crown

This wicked trash will not retire

It will be cast into the fire