Power’s Out

Power’s out

the piercing whine of the a/c’s,


you can hear the evening wind whisper and rattle the bamboo wind 


The delicate song of the night birds,

the proud croaking of toads

the rhythmic clatter of crickets

this is life revealed

Mother Earth outspoken.


Frantic Sparrows

Thoughts like frantic sparrows,

desperately seeking perch.

Wings flap,

constantly in motion;

No lapis rolling ocean

to fill the dreary sodden hole.

No sleepy warm lacuna-

only jagged morning mountain

that dares me not to climb it.

No lonely desert I haven’t laid to waste-

I cannot feel,

but must defile;

Sandstorms spiral

with bleached and porous bones,

this is no ones home.

Confused and tired,

angry naked wraith,

a native of periphery-

tabula rasa waiting.

Questions values and all sanity,

bloodied by sharp thistles,

barren like the husks

of never planted seeds.



A live volcano lives within 

Though quiet now…

it grumbles, whispers.

But magma churns,

entrails burn

beneath the thin and fragile crust;

 fear of its tortured eruption.

There is no peace here,

just brittle restraints;

nothing can stop the rolling, fluid fire

it will burst free.

Then I will disappear,

avoid the raging, savage beast

that is quite content

in killing me.

But it is clear

for both my eyes to see

 I must fly away

feel the gentle fragrant winds

that sing and shout-

they scream,

escape and solemn mean distaste

for all remains so ordinary.