Dragons in the Night

I was lying in the grass,
Staring at the sky.
When I saw something
That brought a tear to my eye.

Above me was a dragon;
His wings spread in flight.
His shadow floated across my face.
His scales glittered in the night.

His eyes were glowing embers
Resting on his head.
When they turned my way,
My face shone crimson-red.

His scales of many colors
Reflected rainbow light.
As he settled down beside me,
And rested from his flight.

He spoke of things long past;
Of a land so far away;
Of unicorns and elves and dwarves;
And where hidden treasures lay.

Of heroic kings and knights,
And of old Camelot.
Of stories and songs that children sing
But adults have long forgot.

He spoke of a time so long ago,
When diamonds filled the sky.
And I was filled with sorrow
Because the time had passed me by.

For a dragon holds the dreams
Of a time and age long past.
To remind us of the joys we had,
Before life goes by too fast.

I felt a tear land on my cheek,
As he flew off through night,
For the stories locked away
To never see the light.

In a world of hustle and bustle,
While running left and right.
Stop, remember, never forget
Your dragons in the night.

Breath, for a girl

It is vivid, it breathes

can be at once visible, tangible

or floating in evanescent air

alive in silence but living in sound

can be the bite of raw wind

that breathes, never blows

awake and alive, it breathes through your eyes

the cold of cognition

withers, whips, rises from dirt

is vitreous and imperfect

falls (does not break), awake and alive

skyward, forward and on

excited – what was that?

I heard it, did you?

it spoke, in a whisper?

it spoke in a dream

I hear it, do you?

it cannot be far –

(perhaps, in time

but the distance is close)

it breathes through your eyes

do you hear it too?

it is awake and alive

it is love, and for you.

Actionless

To laugh, to cry, mimics the mind

To an emotion,

And singular, the outline;

Collectively, its notion.

Behind each expression, the

Most hidden of clues;

But scratches from the surface,

The answer, to the few;

The body, closer, enemied by fear,

And within, the hero,

Holding on for dear.

But panic and it fails,

No longer the mass proud,

So alone, enshadowed, and

Still, in a crowd.

Eternity

Seamless blue sky
Pulses rising with the heat
Tempered only by the breeze
The horizon shimmers with the field.
A men collapses under his faithful tree
And melts into the grass.
There is no winter in his world.
As he revels in eternal warmth,
A single golden leaf
Floats into his refuge,
Crimson red and wet.
It warns shamelessly of changes,
Of copper colors and cold.
He clings desperately to the moment,
As fragile as the leaves,
Knowing with each passing day
Paradise flakes away,
Buried by a leafy avalanche
Lulled to sleep by the frost
Awakened only by the raging sun
An eternity away.

Lunar Dream

Longing for the lunar dream

It ebbs and flows inside your vein

Let it fill you, let it gleam

Float along your conscience stream

Between the ethereal and the mundane

Searching for the lunar dream

No fear or darkness will remain

Drifting through the hazy steam

Nothing is as it may seem

Release the pleasure and the pain

Yearning for the lunar dream

Enough to drive a man insane

Slide along the pallid ream

Hearts revel, minds teem

Slipping past the ascertain

Monochromatic

Inspired by a pair of speeches:
"The Ballot or the Bullet" by Malcolm X
"A More Perfect Union" by Barack Obama

Off and on.
White and black.
The future seems distant
When looking back.
To be or not to be.
That is not the question
But simply an expression
Of eternal indecision.
Live and let live.
Tolerance is relief.
Or maybe just refusal to
Stand up for a belief.
Life is not duality
Nor is it as it seems.
In the gray, not the black or the white
Lie the colors of our dreams.

An essay on "The Catcher in the Rye" in the style of "The Catcher in the Rye"

I’ll just tell you about this madman Holden Caulfield a little bit. Not his whole damn autobiography or anything, but just what I told D.B. Anyway, Holden goes around to bars trying to give girls the time. That kills me. And he always talks about his dead brother and how great his goddam sister is and all. I think he's some big phony. He's always talking about how annoying everyone else is and how he wants to run away to live in the woods and save a buncha kids from falling off a damn cliff, but he does the same thing everyone else does. I really get a bang out of that. You take a guy like Holden, he never tells the truth to people. What a phony. He's probably flitty. I mean he can never get really sexy with a girl. You know, really sexy. I can be very sexy sometimes. I once kissed this girl Jane Gallagher all over her face and all, but she didn't let me kiss her lips. She damn near made me wanna give her the time and all. Women kill me. Anyway, Holden really drove me crazy while I was talking to him so I just left and I figured I’d call up old Jane Gallagher or something, but after a while I started to miss Holden. You know, how when you have to shoot the crap with some guy about how they want to run off and live in the woods, but then you don't see them for a few weeks and you start to think what a nice guy they are and all that crap. You probably don't understand. You're probably just some phony who never does nothing you say you're gonna do. Reminds me of a guy I once knew, some kid who just wrote blogs all day long that nobody really gave a damn about. It was a sad thing to see though, it really was. You know the part that really got me? The part that sometimes he thought he was actually clever. Stuff like that always kills me. It really does.