Remember
the days of life
abundant with the fruits
so ripe to offer...
I remember...
losing life while living 
is the biggest wrong
ever made right...
you remember
as you knew me then
you cannot forget
but there is no blame...
twas I
I alone
who consumed that poison
and fell into the river...
remember dear friends
there is nothing left to blame...
just a memory to hold...
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It was the first blood
for a man child
lost in winters night...
the first breech of skin
the first line of crimson
and the first expression
of obvious distaste in self...
who was seen
as reflections disapeared
in flakes of white
and trails of red paint for the world...
it was all just a story
to be told by the fire..
a story of poverty of the soul
and a happy ending
that should never have been a sequel...
triumph doesnt always come twice...
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maybe i found the first sight, way back when....maybe the child i was
and the child i still am came from those dirty railroad tracks...flat pennies
and broken glass...the world so huge and full of monters..homeless bums
always rumored to snatch children away from their loving mothers..maybe i 
lost my fear when i became a rumor myself...through all the migrations of
my mind i still cant put a finger on it...the fleeting glimpse of a child i still
am...
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It was the first
though not the last
but now
its so far in the past...
it could only be
what burned in the stomach
as poets and authors called it
the four letters that spell love....
but like a story
straight from greek mythology
a foolish youth
angered the gods...
from the sky
he brought down the sparrows of god
from the darkness 
he brought down the blackbirds and crows...
there was no deal to be made
for he had betrayed in all directions...
the burning stomach
became a raging fire
as the liquid stoled his word...
on parched lips he mumbles
for poets and authors to pity
to muse over
and embrace what they have
a new thanksgiving....
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In the hollowed 
black eyes
betrayal can only mean
what must be the ending.....
they look for ways to steal
deal 
unknowing the past 
and how to feel...
the one who thought he wasnt
was
the one who thought he was
had been for some time...
in the darkest hours
in the darkest eyes
each spreads his own fears
and they trickle into the spines of all...
riding high 
flying a kite of misfortune
one lifeline at a time...
you know the story
always did
as the lines get tangled
and we all end up crashed...
so why is this so wrong?
the thief in us all
arrives like a prank call
that no one believes...
and the hard times
blown like wind chimes
are parents to loners
orphaned by mistrust....
________________________________________________________

in heat of light
at night
the reality is away
yet another such day...
should I
in the circles of the lost
take the dare
upon my mind
and enter the forbidden city...
the markets and homes
hold so much memorie
as i had left them so sudden
in the face of the oncoming plague...
should i
helper of plagues
man in the middle
return...
if upon a quite arrival
I become an icon
a sign of troubles to return
would i welcome the crucifiction....
forever and a day i would not doubt
the sincerity of those
who would believe i deserve it...
only human
that is me
one mistake of many
and nothing more....
_______________________________________________________

words
so easy to trust...
words
like a bet you cant pay
when youve already lost...
words
wasted as often
as the time to speak them...
they only end up
in the end
hurting your soul...
loss of mysterie
for speaking out your mind
leaves you alone
or in shallow conversation...
words
in all
end up in pretend worlds
with pretend emotion....
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it isnt hard
to initiate the motion
step into the whirlpool
and lose your breath...
as your dragged down
you know you need air
it feels just good enough
that maybe theres no room to care..
so little room for reality
so little time for reality....
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so its all in the pack
upon my back...
the tainted world
and all the souveniers
upon my skin...
the river and the rats
may be home again...
is this oz?
is this heaven or hell?
for i have sunk to the bottom
yet my blurred vision still sees
and my lungs still make the motions...
WHERE AM I?
echoes in the winds
echoes in the nights
holding onto myself
to keep away the sights....
it hurts when your cold
it hurts when destiny screams...
for all it has to say
is imminent death alone....
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The first time i found you
it wasnt meant to be
dark on the eyes
but not a drop of fear....
you circled me
for years
stalking my intentions
to find a way inside....
i was witness
with the dead at dawn
to others 
hosting you at their party...
one star filled night
you found that loop
and the loss of breath came quick...
of sudden sorrow released
was simple realization
that you were not just crashing my party
you became it...
a drop of fear 
brought the flood
that broke the levy to pieces...
you are me now
living that night over and over
while i sit in chains...
looking to the sky i can see
where it begins and ends
you strangle my sobs before they start...
how quickly you act
to stop any flow you cant control...
thats it now
lost control for control....
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a look
like a ghost in the closet
at the unsuspecting 
me...
lost 
on white floor
surrounded
by crimson writings...
rain
falling from the eyes
cant delute
the growing red puddle...
it grows
feeding off old strength
and new weekness
the room distorts to blurs...
and the phone wont stop ringing
ring..ring..ring...ring..
it continues
pulling back strength...
the room clears
the phone falls
and voices yell unintelligably...
they come through the ears
sounding like vague questions
from so far away...
as soon as it sounded
the voice entered my line of sight
and sleep came at last....
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the little red haired boy
and his toy
alone on the concrete
except for the ants...
oh he's cute
they say
he can stay with me
they say...
but time does so few
the justice they deserve
that little boy
became something of a man....
he never claimed
in the climb to be an adult
that he was wise...
he never claimed
through the torture he invoked
that he was right...
now to loathe
oh to turn your head
in disgust or dismay
you trap the red haired boy
in a dark room without walls...
now a man
without soul
abuses that child
makes him disapear...
that child
that bastard son
is a reminder of all 
that was spent over the years...
the child
son
lays dying of a cancer
since the day innocence went to heaven...
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its all a joke. every worn out phrase every
 worn out question. just a joke.
to make sense of a trail of bloody messes and
 constant failing is a joke.
to say you have a grip on the things that you
 induldge in to get away from
the real you is a joke. a laugh that no one feels.
 the laugh of the insane.
the amusing laugh of the one deemed bad guy. 
he knows and he no longer 
cares that no one cares. life is the cruelest
 joke of all because it has no conscience
to quit when the joke has gone to far.
 as one i know put it in such a poetic way after
days outside the saints circle 
"we are just a bunch of ants on a ball for gods entertainment".
amusing...oh so amusing...if you have the sense of humor 
of charles manson. and
its great if you have the riches of the 
soul to buy into the life is what you make it
foundation. its just unfortunate for those who
 are in poor keeping with their soul. the 
joke god has played on us all is just NOT funny....
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all these small town lights
they cannot be seen
as the breeze blows summer
across the chamber of deepest sleep...
they held a parade
in absence
they all were awake
in sleep...
devastation is just a word
in the small town
with the faded lights
so far away...
now all seem so far away
moved to the edges
to walk a line
that plays tricks to their eyes....
the ground 
so full of greed
devours tribute
as the whiskey rain comes down....
this little story
is just a dream
that will fade away
when we all awaken...
if we awaken.....
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the demented cowboy
off into the clouding night
no sunset to find
no direction to head.....
the cowboy plays in fire
and burns himself
time and time again
because he cannot let himself heal...
up his nose
and down his throat
the dust of sin
dries his eyes again....
open sky
he stares up
to see the blazing tail
of another lost wish....
as the deserted wind blows
he curls up
fire in his viens
and lonlieness in his arms...
the dreams
so sweet the dreams
he feels compassion
as a face brings him a smile....
he feels warmth
as she blocks the savage wind
he feels love
as she knocks away the arrows of loneliness...
she touches his wounds
that will not heal
then touches his cheek
with a tear in her eye....
behind her shape 
a bright light burns
and his eyes flutter open
to see the morning sun.....
a gentle sob escapes his lips
for he knows her well
she comes from a place
where he cannot go...
a place where he is banned
by his peers and by his fate
by his mind
and by his life.....
standing
shaking the morning mists
out of mind
the cowboy heads off without direction....
____________________________________________________________________

so much more often
then not
i see the sun bleeding
again and again....
the unfortunate
ride this highway
and i stare for them
at the site of beutey....
the beaten down
the life bearing confused
the sad
the maimed.....
all ride alone
in a car thats filled 
i drink for them
and intoxicate my eyes...
as all hold them
these demons
as all hold them in their laps
i realize the weight on my own lap...
looking down
it looks up and grins
grabbing my leg and taking a bite
to let me know im not immune...
but really
as i watched the sun die
i knew i wasnt
had known all along... 
for that fleeting moment
as i had forgotten the demon
resting so comfortable on my lap
i was thinking of the others....
for this i payed with much pain
to my inner and outer demon's
joyful pleasure...
as i bled for the group
i showed them the world they couldnt see
and the pain came twice fold
as my death strayed far from my hands...
before their eyes
all the wonders of nature were beheld
through my glazing eyes
and i drifted away to sleep without dreams......
_______________________________________________________


What lies dorment in our dreams has
 yet to be found. what has been found
that needs locked up may not want to go
 back in its cage. and the jewels 
you find on your mining trips may be 
worth so much...if you know where
to spend them. The bottom is no place to 
spend anything...your life in particular
so if these poems are not enough to convince
 you that a rich soul cant survive
down here...youll have to learn for yourself.
 I hope my writing can be a ladder
up out of the hole some may be in....
even one...that is if scare tactics still work
(and i dont have much faith in them)...may all of
 you out there on the edge find
the right way to get away from it...GOOD LUCK 
                                                                       
                                             Nightpoet
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