Butterfly
Eleven at night
the time in the twilight that our most frightening thoughts
become tangible beings.
When the wounds we suffered in the battlefield we call life begin to burn
as the adrenaline of the battle fades…
And as it does…
The internal breaks and bruises begin to show.
The artists skin a canvas
and their paint brush
the edge of a razor.
In a desperate attempt to free themselves
and cauterize the wounds of battle
they are instead bored deeper
and they begin to fester with an infectious disease...
...Guilt...
However when the beautiful body of the artist becomes scattered with scars
and the artist’s want for a healing hand has gone
when the only thing they want more than love is death.
An unlikely savior emerges and spreads its healing wings over the artist.
The butterfly preserves the masterpiece
for another night...

The Jabberwock
Has thou slain the Jabberwock
that haunts the top rock
of your brain, that you’re only present of in the rain?
The moon beams shine on the pride of your out of line mind.
The mind that you so desperately try to find in the storm
that shakes you from the norm
All that you are is what you are not
The restless thought with weight of a cinder­block
Has thou slain the Jabberwock?

Thoughts of Life
Cast down your whole body,
immerse yourself in a discovery.
Travel back to a child like innocence
that which resides in the depths to your conscious
Never use long thought when being concise will do.
Condense your thoughts,
Listen
experience the
Music
of your soul
meditate, to elevate your conscious.
Never stop exploring the depths of your being to discover the true realities
within Life.