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just a record,

Crime As Forgiven By a smoke filled bedroom somewhere in the night half drunk Against the will of the pending morning looming over Me just a handful of years ago in a confused time with no direction the future hidden just past the smoke and scent of stale beer beneath an aimless longing. The potency of it is not lost with time.

A Brief Winter Night’s Moment – Stillness In Thought

Gently falling,
Shavings of crystalline perfection
Blanket the world
In true, frozen purity.
What breath could be seen
Is taken and held
At the most perfect
Of sights.
From between cracks
Of dense, thick cloud,
Shafts of pale blue
Moon pour. Show me this white,
Beautiful desolation.
This season, wherein life is least,
Emanates the most beauty.

My mind holds still;
Thoughts mute before
Sacred winter majesty.
In the distance, a bell
Chimes the hour
Behind pillars of smoke.
In these still, silent
Moments of cold,
I am wholly at peace.

Poetry Publishing Links

   I have been looking into publishing my own work this year. In my quest, I have stumbled upon some helpful and informative websites. I will share them with you here. As time goes on and I discover more, I will update this post. May they help you in the ways they do.


By The Tides

Written just before 2200 EDT. Excuse my sap.

I look back
Into the shadow
Cast by my thoughts
And see, behind reflected light,
The currents I ride.
My mind, my will
Flows with the rivers of life.
Where do they carry me?
Where do I go?

I see, in the distance, a light.
A lone, hooded figure holds a lantern,
Waiting to call me in to shore.

The tide has not yet come in.
We both know this at a glance.
In realization, she drops her hood.
I shall not forget her face,
For when the tide comes in,
I will take root on her shores.

Within her is the most divine
Spirit of manifestation.
In her breath, I breathe.
In her eyes, I see.
In her words, I speak.
In her light, I shine.
By her heartbeat, do I dance.
In her embrace, I dream.

I dream.
I dream of the unification
Of that which was not meant to be divided.
I dream of the swirling chaos
That lies unseen.
I dream of swimming the mighty currents
Of the living continuum most sacred
As one with her.

She is mistress to manifestation.
Her words are crafted to shuddering perfection.
Her colours are lain out in the most passionate sequences.
She holds light unseen to the common eye.
That which she creates
Is wonder and abundance.
I am drawn ever further in to her being.

She is my harbour.
She is my breath.
She is my pulse.
She is the meaning of longing.

But the tide has not yet come in.
And we both know this at a glance.
With shared realization, we drop our hoods.
We shall not forget our faces,
For when the tide comes in,
We will become more than the sum of our parts.

When the tide comes in,
The unseen force of all living things
Will shiver.

The tide will not come in today;
We know this.
But it could be tomorrow.
It will be tomorrow.