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I was just chatting with sfc in the PixiesPlace channel of the chatroom and she pointed this thread out to me after I mentioned that I write poetry. So, at her request to see some of my work, I'm going to post a piece...here goes nothing...

XXII.
Walking in the space
Between Heaven and Hell
Left by the form
Of a stolen God.

The world is hollow
We sucked it dry
Withered husk
Between life and death
Rotting in stagnation.

We are all dead
Life cannot come
From a barren womb
We threw our souls on the fire
As we watched our mother burn
For fun and profit.

All was created
With the passion of a single mind
Yet still we throw away passion
For the illusion of temporal power
We gave to much
For absolutely nothing,
No trade backs.

FADE

Twilight time
Long slow fade to black
Velvet curtains running down,
Funeral shroud embracing the players
Faces locked in a tableau of anguish and horror.

You can feel it,
Sub-sonic hum
The apocalypse riff
Humming in the dead air
The drone of flies
Feeding on the corpses
Shuffling through the sad final acts
Of their death scene.

Still the tragedy marches on,
The mummers dance
In their three-piece suits
Hoping their gilded god
Can hold back the doom,
They simply feed the beast.

We?re burning out
Like a cigarette discarded
Each breath we take
Consumes a little more
Until there is nothing left
Save smoke on the wind
Wiped away
As night falls over our graves.

XXIII.
9:30 on a Friday evening
Cool breeze
Setting sun defining the skyline
Making the glass towers burn
In bright flashes of silver and gold.

I watch the people
A couple hundred lives
Weaving in and out among each other,
A most complex dance
With steps as simple
As eating or talking.

Couples walk hand in hand,
Children run in and out
Between the tables in a little cafe
While their parents talk and laugh
Over cups of after dinner coffee.

So much can be learned
By watching how someone eats, or laughs,
Or draws a lover close,
Or plays with a child.
The deepest secrets of life
Are revealed everyday
Described in the subtle gestures
Of living.

I often wonder
If God watches us
From the patio
Of some celestial coffee house
Enjoying the play He wrote.
Does He know the ending ?
Does He enjoy the dance
For knowing the steps ?

I have often thought
That we were created
So that God could learn
What it?s like to be human
He knows what it is to be God,
It?s easy to know yourself
But it is impossible to explain
Being Human.

XXVIII.
lying
still
no motion
melting down through
the floor...drip, drip, drip
liquid flow
technicolour
flying
space
going three dimensional
(then a fourth, then a fifth)
mind slide
fusion
screaming bloody winged ANGELS
tear away the flesh
e x t e n d i n g
into, through, beyond
encompass it all
BURNING
moment forever
spinning
down, up
rushing, speeding
broken
shards of mirror
through
out
?it?s so pretty beyond...?
beyond what ?

TORONTO

The city sleeps
Rumbling concrete beast
Alive in slumber
Shimmering, shifting
Dreaming beneath our feet.

You know it?s alive,
You can feel it?s pulse
Humming in the highwires,
You can feel its monstrous breath
While waiting for the subway.
That presence you feel
Alone on the street at night
Is the city walking with you.

On its back we crawl
Symbiotic, for we feed it
As much as it feeds us,
It moves with us
Follows us into the clubs,
Sleeps with us at night in our beds.

Unseperable
One entity
City and man
Moving, growing, dreaming
Together
Alive in everyone
It?s not where you live,
It?s who you are.

WINTER

Clear winters day
White flesh, white snow
Dreaming of becoming
A ray of light
Floating high over twig fingers
The wind blowing through me
Gleaming and pure.

And I can?t remember
The days of wine and roses
Anymore
They were lost
When I took a walk in my life,
Now I?m left with an empty bottle,
A handful of withered petals
And the faded memory
Of her body drawn
In the darkness.

Once,
I wrote every line
Of her perfect body
Once,
I breathed her form
In perfect detail
Once,
Every beat of her heart
Sounded within my breast.

But now she is gone
I looked away for a second,
I can?t even recall
What for
When I turned back
The winter snows
Had settled behind her eyes
So little time.

So now I stand
In the middle of unending winter
Wishing to be light
In the darkness,
Wishing to be fire
In the cold
But being neither,
I give all I have left
To regain spring.

And below
Blood roses
Bloom on the white breast
Of Winter.

Hopefully the division between each piece is clear...I hope you all out there like them...these are the peices that I am particularly pleased with...