Fall Taps

Know the seasons changing;

new taps(Pumpkin Ale), at the local

dim-lit, hazy, hometown bar.

Heart paddle shocks, a new rapture;

jolt alive to mellow indie sounds,

‘juxting and opposing’ to aimless friend chatter—

sweet homecoming, slippery inebriation.

Phantoms wavering in twilight foggy vision:

clouded mind & sore sights of a lonely heart.

Liquid condolences stronger than heart pump friends,

deeper understanding with no curious eyes.

Seasons change, savoring new taps;

perfectly accentuated brown sugar glass rim,

icing on my mind sooth panacea—sipping to indecency.

Wild passions fueling—alive—jiving hearth comfort feel.

Dull edge pumpkin thoughts, dreaming in autumn shades:

orange, brown, yellow—sweetly lost in leaf pile dilemmas.

Courage glinting eyes longing to capture falling-leaf loves,

fresh on deathbeds of smoldering ember summer flings

eager to bathe chilly passion fires.

Harvest mead coaxes me further away…

ebb& flow, eyes closed swaying on heart strings,

grasping phantasmal amongst memory dear friends.

These longing reunions unearth sad eye truths:
             leafs scatter amongst the wind.

Dali’s Visage of War

It’s that barren wasteland

We fear to despise.

The story of death,

Written out in your eyes.

Whether young or old,

There is no escape.

The ruthless machinations of man,

Leave our lives to fate.

Hatred surrounds us,

The ever‑festering wound.

Life flashes before our eyes,

As death waits to consume.

The tendrils of war

Weave a vicious web.

Our only reply;

Scream for the innocent dead.