Sunday, August 12, 2012


There is a shark inside his heart; take no notice if he tells you different
it eats from the inside out, its teeth extra sharp its bite more deadly than the volcanoes surge; he has swallowed so much lava he can only taste
the blood and dirt – choking on his plagued verbatim as his tongue
hangs loose; he has dreamt long now of a truce.
Pride will take him down screaming – for this snake cannot shed skin
though he rattles and rolls amongst his contemporary playmates.
He can only write what aches and haunts on the walls that have besieged him. And so it festers this dark temperament; it eats on the bones then buries itself in fields and fields of gold, for it is the dream he tried so hard to awaken.
They say a snake and pig cannot live an authentic life, too many bad stars in a different hemisphere with the same urban sky brush stroked with empyrean amber – silver blue smoke clouds the eyes; everything so much colder.
Although well acquainted with female psychology, he neither likes nor understands her casting a critical eye – yet continues to creep each night into her boudoir, watching intently the hot steam that escapes from her aura. The sight of her uncurled in his grip – awaiting in trepidation their twin souls in flight. He can only look away as her dreams die swiftly – shape shifted into a silent Macabre dance. The self sacrifice of a pigs heart for the gluttonous sake of a love he fed her in dribs and drabs. She loves to be the martyr. They will hold each other at times alone in a snow globe looking out through all the devastation, his touch will electrify her and their eyes will lock with that age old understanding – it was always the moments that mattered. But she cannot keep him from his hunting – those sharp teeth and shark heart needing constant new amusement, his compassion waned. His soul dyed every different shade of anthracite lines – the edges will blur and he’ll lose sight of her. His deception deep sprung from a well of venom, burned coldly into her immense sorrowful eyes. In the end she will have no choice but to leave and yet she will forever look blindly for his silhouette wandering the earth dazed.

**Unable to determine source.


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“As a leader... I have always endeavored to listen to what each and every person in a discussion had to say before venturing my own opinion. Oftentimes, my own opinion will simply represent a con-sensus of what I heard in the discussion. I always remember the axiom: a leader is like a shepherd. He stays behind the flock, letting the most nimble go out ahead, whereupon the others follow, not realizing that all along they are being directed from behind.”
~ Nelson Mandela