Junction 47
Wait for me at the train stop please
Don't leave me when the whistle blows
Listen for me to call your name
to charge for one last hug goodbye
no, not goodbye,
but see you soon.
Stay until I get one glimpse of those
blue, as topaz, eyes
Bide the moments for me to wipe the
tears of yours and mine
away on a grave
Let me just sit and drink your
presence, to hold your hand
a lean close
Just to remember the day
when you went away
and I missed the train
Now I can't say one thing;
that I want you dear to my heart,
so goodbye Junction 47
on that warm first August day
That you went away
Without a word or cry
From my lips to yours.
Just recall times of us.
I come to sit at
Junction 47
to watch the end
of the unfinished track
that never stops
Sooo just one thing before I hop aboard
Pass this note
To the next
person who misses
one really loved
to keep the time in
mind-
when going to
Junction 47.
Black Night
Weaver of dreams,
Come to me tonight
Spin me a gentle web
A translucent spiral
Neverending pattern
Trap me within
Lost in the womb of your creation
Weave a phantasy
To lose me in
Spin
Spin me around
Forever spiraling
on your pattern of dreams
Now weave a dream
Black night
Weave a dream
Blacker than space
Filled with an ocean
Water
An ocean of tears
Tears from you, Black Night
Cry for me
Let your tears enter my dream
Use your silk to spin me a dream
A Fine lined dream as delicate as a violet's petal
Soft and Fuzzy
Comfort me in my time of need
Yes, Black Night
Weave a dream
A puzzle incomplete
pieces slammed into place.
Shattered dreams
Spin me a dream
Simple, yet complex
Just one dream
so I may sleep, once again
Raggedy Love
Blind as a doll
with marbles for eyes
no visible function
not even decoration.
Old plums
juicy and alive
their color, color has shriveled
and knarled
beneath the sun's infernal eye.
Blind as a doll
with marbles for eyes
Fiery wheat
a field of flaming grass
Eating from root to tip
in a gasolenic frenzy.
weeping tears for no reason, then
scrying away; disappears as though an owl hunting in the night.
Expanding the mind the sound all around,
sight is missed no more, as lengths of
waves penetrate deep, allowing sight to be
restores, in another light.
But a rebound and scent
that was once not there, sends sharpened
nails with deep blood gleam trickling down the back
A hoarse breath, smelling of hateful lust
draws near, a touch of sandpaper and leaf
reaches over, disqueching belief
that safety is near, like the a horn of a truck
coming near, until it hits
or swerves away in a rush.
Now gentle words in the ear, a silent kiss
A nibble here and there
as a lover commences the song
of courtship and love
to sing to the blind person
that you are mine now, because
without you, my darling dear,
my world would be a rose without water,
drying an dying with my beauty falling
For you are the silver cord
the life line that anchors me to his world
and keeps me from the next.
So when we go to Junction 47
notes of love and harmony shall
take wing
of the wings, of pure white doves.
