The Dark Workings Of the Mind
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Biographies of Great Poets of the Past
Edgar Allen Poe
Robert Louis Stevenson
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Charles "Hank" Bukowski
Nightmare
Red eyes glare, minions stare
The scent of death fills the air
Next stop: pain , in the fiery rain
Here you're lain as you go insane
Gears are turning as the fire's burning
Your stomach's churning and your eyes are blurring
Drenched in heat like a piece of meat
Knowing that soon the beasts will eat
Tempting the fate of the thing you hate
Taking the bait a day too late
Now life is pain, and fire does reign
And you lie slain in death's domain
Welcome to my hell
Welcome to my universe
Welcome to my endless night
Only time will tell
If I can break this curse
If I can set things right
Wake, evil child in the depths of the styled
Death's a dream, torture's mild, hear me now, this is wild
Gears overbearing , minions always glaring
Ever the less daring as your mortal flesh is tearing
Ruled by rage on a human hungry stage
Regardless of your sage you are in my cage
We need more heat! My minions need to eat
You'll make poor meat, but we need an empty seat
As your soul dies you'll hear your dying cries
And see with blurred eyes your final demise
Tempting the fate of the thing you hate
Taking the bait a day too late
Now life is pain, and fire does reign
And you lie slain in death's domain
Welcome to my pain
Welcome to my darkest dreams
On the wild river wild
It's hard to stay sane
For nothing is as it seems
Welcome to my brainchild
©1999 Billy McAleese
Ghost of Time
White grains of sand sift through our fingers,
Like the corresponding years of time.
Embedded wrinkles show years long past,
And our wise eyes show lessons hard-learned.
One delicious night we drank to life anew,
Now we mourn the unforseen death of the loved.
But should tears and memories bring back the dead?
Or should we just remember what we once had?
Through the sifting fingers of timeless sand,
We age quickly, without thought of our death.
Oh sweet new child I see before me,
I love you, and I am your protector.
But I cannot protect you from the demon we call Death,
And I cannot protect you from the ghost we call Time.
But watch the white grains of sand sift through our fingers child,
And learn the lessons of the ghost,
Before the coming of the demon.
© 1997 Krystal D. Monroe
e-mail Ms. Monroe at Hunny10498@aol.com
Silence
Silence surrounds the whispering pines,
In a shroud the suns golden rays fall.
Silence dominates the sleeping world,
Darkness weaves among the shadows bold.
A wolf1s lone, glass cry pierces the still air,
Echoing through the dark, slumbering woods.
Silence is shattered, and all are awake,
They hear the shatter of the silence break.
© 1997 Krystal D. Monroe e-mail Ms. Monroe at Hunny10498
On Your Way Home
Never knew you were gone till it was much too late,
I saw you pass by in a cab,
Touching your hand against the window.
Mom fell down he stairs in a rage,
Dad stood at the top,
In another 8 year old flash back,
Another memory that makes me turn away,
And pick up another glass of Merlot.
It is different types of chaos these days,
These eyes are so tired,
These moments are getting old and undesirable.
I think I would have been a memory to you,
A terror in your worst night mare,
Instead I am the love of your love,
And I am waiting by the phone for it to ring,
To remind me that I am that.
Cocking the gun,
Keeping it loaded for the breakdown,
I stare at my senses and have a conversation with my feelings,
We sit around and play a few hands of gin rummy,
And I saw and wait for the let down about to occur.
But I hear your voice,
And the seas go back to calm,
No more white caps today,
No more restlessness,
You are on your way home
©1999 Chris Aguilare-mail Mr. Aguilar at Mayhempub@aol.com and visit his site at http://member.aol.com/mayhempub/index.htm
Old Age
Young at heart in the silence that love brings,
Actually 85 and sitting in the arms of the man she has been with since 21,
Her one and only,
That love that at 16 she never thought she would ever have
But three kids later,
A house,
Half a dozen cars,
Friends dead and buried,
Relatives past and gone,
She is still here with him.
He read a book on World War II,
Recalling the things he got to see,
His friends blown to bits,
Horrors that the kids will never understand.
Having now beaten alcohol,
And living day to day on vitamin supplements,
And calcium to refresh their fragile bones,
She sits content that she has very little to regret in life.
Maybe she should have written a few more poems,
Or taken a few more pictures,
But all and all it has been a good ride.
Dying today would not be a tragedy,
She saw the world be invented and reinvented time after time.
She saw her husband cry night after night,
And day after day,
Her kids fall to piece sin adolescent rage,
The one she never thought would make it,
Is now paying for her house,
Satisfied she rolls over,
And studies the outline of an angel on the curtain,
She winks,
Closes her eyes,
And greets God with a smile
©1999 Chris Aguilare-mail Mr. Aguilar at Mayhempub@aol.com and visit his site at http://member.aol.com/mayhempub/index.htm
Daddy Cried on Sunday Morning
Daddy cried on a Sunday morning,
I sat in my pajamas playing solitaire with him
He told me he was a sick man,
And had no control over himself,
To disregard every word he said from here on out,
That he never meant to say that.
He told me that he was going to die someday soon,
And not to hate him for it.
He told me that he was sorry that we had to see him in jail,
Busted for another DUI,
And the he did not mean to hit my mother the way he did last night.
But that he loved her very much and to try not to cry,
Or tell a soul about what was happening in our house.
He said he would try to repair himself,
Even though there was no medicine that could cure him,
That he had to cure himself.
I could not comprehend this part,
He was a doctor,
He healed for a living,
That is how we had this big house,
Those three nice cars,
I had nice clothes and all of the star wars toys I could ask for,
He told me that someday all that would disappear,
That he would try to get better before that happened,
But not to hate him for it,
Or regret him for the things that have been happing,
And for what the future was going to hold,
If he could not make himself any better,
He cried to me and asked me to tell him that I forgave him
I tried to deny that this was happening,
I barely understood any of it then,
But I get it now,
He was doomed and he knew it.
He was trying to save me for the first time in my life,
And have a clear conscious for all that was around the corner.
And he know it was going to happen,
That they would show up one day and take away all of my toys,
Lock me out of my room,
Auction all of our possessions in our driveway,
That he would lose his practice,
And his mind,
That he would fall to pieces and be reduced to a babbling mess on the couch,
With a glass of wine in his hand,
That I would stand over him punching him
Asking for my daddy to come back,
Telling him I was lost and could not find my home,
That I was broken and my toys were missing,
And it was his fault,
That the day he died,
I would breathe a sigh of relief,
And regret being born,
Regret knowing him,
Daddy cried that morning,.
It was a beautiful summer morning.
I was 9 years old
©1999 Chris Aguilare-mail Mr. Aguilar at Mayhempub@aol.com and visit his site at http://member.aol.com/mayhempub/index.htm
Daydream
Got the blues wallow in selfish needs, daddy is under the ground,
Mommy is no where to be found.
Young rebel restless in the night,
Climbs out of his window to find some peace of mind.
I am sick, I am alone,
Oh,.. How you know my tears!!
You have met them head on in the wind,
And in the drops of rain in front of your face.
You know me,
You saw me in a daydream,
I ran to you in the fields,
And told you that I was alive and well,
As you turned your back,
Looking away into the glorious sunshine,
And into my father's eyes.
I saw death in the middle of my daydream,
And a hush fell over the crowd as the champions dismounted from their
Trophy stands.
I close doors faster then they open,
Burn bridges faster then they can be built up,
How can all that we built up,
Fall apart so quickly,
How can black rains fall from clear blue skies?
So she begs at her father knees for a moment or two of affection,
And a second away from the whiskey and the TV,
Souls crying in the trailer parks,
Kids falling asleep in the gutters of Palos Verdes,
Seeking freedom,
A liberation for the depths of pain,
From the devices of human suffering,
And the things that keep us up at night,
The things that make us feel so cold and alone,
Mommy are you near?
Daddy why are you in the ground?
©1999 Chris Aguilare-mail Mr. Aguilar at Mayhempub@aol.com and visit his site at http://member.aol.com/mayhempub/index.htm
Confused Poem
Distance holds an answer or two,
Moment inside a dream of an Arizona thunderstorm,
And lightning illuminating the skies.
Separated by fear and unwilling desires,
I sit in my bed dreaming of touching you,
Or maybe even kissing you.
I fall into your snowstorm,
And try to dry your teary eye,
I hunt you down in my memories,
If only to recall your face,
And your thought process,
And pretend I have a place next to you,
Life is paralyzed in this second,
When my pen executed something to your memory,
And I felt the mournful sting of cowardice
©1999 Chris Aguilare-mail Mr. Aguilar at Mayhempub@aol.com and visit his site at http://member.aol.com/mayhempub/index.htm 
