The water broke at midnight.

The cries were heard at one.

The child was in a hurry.

Her life had just begun.

The feeding frenzy started.

Her hunger true and fast.

I loved her from the get-go.

She seemed connected to the past.

I watch, I learn, I like, I see.

There is no greater time.

I’ve had some ups, and lived some downs.

And found some words that rhyme.

This thin veil of civility got leaner in the night.

We had the morals of the damned and a view that’s out of sight.

We are living on the inside, deep tunnels in our heads.

The safest place we’ve ever had are the dreams above our beds.

There’s a lesson in this history that the fears are sometimes fraud.

And all sinners loved the saints just before they fade to nod.

There is a silence in the Shadows.

No room for words, just freaks.

And the balance from the light of day.

Where only darkness speaks.

There’s a rumor of forgiveness.

But it’s not a solid lead.

They say it’s written on pages.

Where few can talk or read.

There’s a dancer spinning lightly.

Silent music they can hear.

If you hear the dancers steps.

Then you know the road to fear.

I’m old and growing tired.

My thoughts are grey and worn.

I’m waltzing in the shadows.

Dancing where the love was born.

The Host is at the meeting.

Can see them there most weeks.

Time moves swiftly, all but fleeting.

Holds accounts the tongue that speaks.

The Host he smiles gently.

Just a simple subtle nod.

The tongue just rambles on and on.

Like they have the ear of God.

But the Host can’t still be listening.

Because he has heard it all before.

He is praying for the end to come.

Or some silence to endure.

He meditates on patience.

Imagines screaming mindless shouts.

The Host is out of virtue now.

There’s a humor in his doubts.

Batman going crazy, he’s been angered since his youth.

And Superboy came out as gay, saying goodbye old phone booth.

The Joker feels normal now, like Matthew Mathers spitting truth.

The Myth-Men seem so human.

Clarke Kent hides behind a curl.

The Aliens are all the rage.

Only Star-Lord gets the girl.

I have

This Need.

To Write,

And Paint.

Never leaves,

Me alone.

Thank God!

Don’t know,

What I,

Would do

Without this.

Probably die.

Maybe cry.

Doesn’t matter.

We will

Never know.

Big Hopes lie on the horizon. I can feel it in the air.

Or in my bones or in my heart… I just know I feel it somewhere.

It’s not an all or nothing. And it is not a Fait Accompli.

But it’s something long overdue and I am longing to be free.

It’s either joy or sadness.

It’s either win or lose.

Success is guaged by failure.

Lost love begats the blues.

It was a quiet celebration, and no one rang the bell.

I mostly sat there smiling, alone while silence fell.

There was something of a rumor; though whispers seldom choose.

No one knew what I could know, and loose lips sometimes lose.

I like the taste of chocolate. Pride goes before the fall.

I’m thinking how I almost drowned in that sea of alcohol.

Fate has shone her blessings, no luck, good or bad is cure.

I’ve got that shiny gift it seems, that faith and love endure.

There is bad blood walking down that road, with a stride of discontent.

Something bad is in the water here, and the money’s all been spent.

The business men and lawyers have no more dividends to cash.

They’ve scraped the bottom dry and clean. Leaving bad blood and a rash.

The spirits have come calling, say there’s not much left to do.

Or in my dreams I heard a voice, “Out of bad blood beauty grew.”