A Spring in the Forest

I look into your eyes

My sins are wiped clean

You smell like candle light

I don't know what that means

But it gives me a fright

I jump into your arms

I'm caught by a machine

So cold and lacking warmth

Like a specter in a dream

I know I've been warned

You drop me like filth

Into the fetid stream

Emptied of my wealth

Too broken to even scream

I long for my death 

Napoleon's Gaffe

 Shall we agree with the fable of what has come before

One says she is a witness, one says she is a whore

Whatever suits your fancy, whatever gets you more

The victors scribe the history, only the righteous settle a score

Certainly the cave is the darkest, the further depths you explore

There is comfort in the communal hearth, a burden released when you close the door

We're all the progeny of ancestors who won that primordial war

All these stories written, based on what was read before

The archetype of self preservation, entwined between the line of lore

One says he is a genius, one says he is a boor

It is not just history that is fable

Dear Emperor General of the Corps

Bobby

Ol' Bobby died pleasuring himself

His wife found him there

Told nobody else

Propped him back in the chair

Promptly walked out the house

Went to the store, bought a bottle of milk

Sat it on the porch 'til it was sour and yellow

Packed her best skirt and blouse in a duffle

Took the change jar

Cut a lock of his hair

Put it in the breast pocket of her flannel nightwear

Threw her bag on the seat of the Datsun pickup

Not a thought crossed her mind as she put it in gear

Pointed it south

With her nightwear clutched near

From the dirt to the gravel to the broken asphalt

To the county trunk to state highway to the big interstate

She emptied the pocket and scattered his locks

Stopped to fill the tank at the Oasis Truck Stop

Bought a bottle of milk from the change in the jar

Drank every drop as she passed car after car

Tossed the flannel out of the window

Drove in her bra

Ran out of fuel on an empty stretch at dawn

Took out her skirt and put that best blouse on

Where did she go from the lonely crossroad

An empty bottle of milk

A penny in the jar

Discarded flannel found miles apart

An abandoned Datsun with a duffle on the seat

Bobby's eyes stare off while the rats have a feast

Nightmare

You said play a tune on the piano for me

I said I don't know how to work all the keys

One hand on my shoulder, the other on my thigh

I tried to play the chords to match the look in your eye

The bench was getting smaller as the night took it's hold

I could barely pump the sustain as your hands became bold

Mary looked down and Jesus he wept

Rebecca poured out all the lies that she kept

Shadows on the wall gyrated and leapt

I fingered the Devil's tritone out of respect

Until the fires faded the embers slept

Back to the succor of that Beast you crept

Rhyming Dictonary 101

 Rhyming Dictionary 101

Margie's life is empty so she creates a nemesis

Someone to tilt with to help repress her uselessness

She snorts the drug of arrogance and wants for success

The knight strikes her from her high horse for imitating noblesse

The lance pierces her ego's armor as an act of redress

Yet the wound heals overnight and she wakes again to profess

Her omniscience and our fortune to receive her largesse