JediMase

Let my shadow run beside me One swift and silent feet Beings of besieged malice Smolder underneath Veil my hate with courtesy But poison in my gaze Seek the beast of blinded wrath In panic's jagged maze Howling, barren, naked thing Striking without sight Reason sold for power's coin Fury strangling the light Monsters I hid for other's sake Creep from the darkness tonight From under my bed to gobble me up Coming to eat me alive. Lost causes shoved out in the cold abandoned emotions depraved Dreams rot to nightmares with age Dead ambition back from the grave.

For the feel of salt water on my skin, For the stars and planets as they spin, For every single secret sin, I thank you. For the alien creature at my feet, For the way the wind runs through the wheat, For pain and fear in each defeat, I thank you. For the vast, unsearchable sky, For monsters that in the ocean lie, For the demon that is "I," I thank you. For a mind that always wonders, For the thrill of summer thunder, For this feeling of going under, I thank you. For words cavorting across my tongue, For adventures had when I was young, For the stab of cold air in fevered lungs, I thank you. For the wolf with its unyielding bite, For the

I've been running faithfully since the beginning of February, and it's starting to show, as numerous people have commented, some several times, on my changing shape. “You look so skinny!” or even, “You're just wasting away to nothing!” It's meant as a compliment, I know. It's what society has told us (especially women) that people (especially women) want to hear when they're clearly reaping the benefits of  their lifestyle choices. But that's not why I run. I distinctly remember Mom reading the Just-So Stories to me when I was young. The way she told about the Mother Jaguar in “The Beginning of Armadillos,&rdquo

The Barbed-Wire Tree He saw lines only as things that divide, That keep the Other on the other side, So he ran away from the ties that bind, To tie them in a different knot The closer you grasp, the more hurt you'll be, Clinging too tight to the barbed-wire tree. Is free from everything really free? Or have you locked yourself in the dark? “Philosophy is a wordy game; Ultimately, it's all the same.” But no Absolute means no-one to blame, And makes a lie out of choice. The closer you grasp, the more hurt you'll be, Clinging too tight to the barbed-wire tree. Is free from everything really free? Or have you locked yourself in th

Bone-Pickers Court Turn aside from disheveled earth brush off the dust It was of no account, small and weak the thing I broke It was in my way, it won't be missed no one has seen Dry, rustling, last breath drifting ragged shadows Sooty-feathered cinders floats in cocked heads and squints knowing eyes. Harsh voices on heaped sand mutter, “Kill kill” Just rooks croaking, needn't fear. Whispering sand, loose stones slither, amber eyes flicker The jackal sees the unmarked graves un-mourned and knows the blood-paved paths No, it seeks bones to gnaw on not untold sins A screeching keen, who's shrieking, “Him!” With braze

Am I a coward? I never told him about the warmth I felt in his smile, about the worth I felt in his words. Am I a traitor? Did I break my word to always stand by a comrade, to always love like a brother? Am I a halfwit? Why didn't I ask for us to walk a while longer, for us to sit a little closer? Am I a wanton? Did I grasp vainly, toying with another soul to satisfy myself? Am I a martyr? Needlessly obsessing, picking over chances untaken, words spoken or not? Am I... human?

Hooded forms rush through the night, Where gleaming lies the moon's pale light, Like molten silver spilt upon the ground. The forest's silence breaking, Is there truth here for the taking? Or have all wisdom's bright jewels been found? Youth pursuing its manly station, Learned building a new creation, Come seeking secrets of cold stones. Is there something new in store, Or has it all been known before? Does fate lie trapped within old bones?

Dusk. The setting sun turns to copper and gold and burns the sky to fire and blood. The half-lit moon is out of reckoning, rises too soon. A rural road, overgrown and lonely. Sudden comes a rush of wings, rust and cream, light as fall leaves, heavy as last breath. Two hawks alight on a telephone pole. Bronze eyes meet grey. Two lives transfixed by alien gaze. The car slows, stops, the hawk cocking its head to ask Where are you running?

Chinese firework Stretching toward cerulan sky Golden fans below

half-knowing dragon smile less wisdom, no malice bemused black pebble eyes bronze scales turn green a serpent blush from unasked attention "a lizard can be caught in the hand yet it is found in king's palaces"