Mending a Mirror

Neither tarnished the mirror 
by words untrue;
The perfect, smooth surface
Refracted mirages -
a remembrance of candid banter;
a thought of unspoken ardor

Reflecting on the skirmish last fought
upon that battlefield - (smell the gunpowder?)
Heated words whistled past
like fragmentation artillery shells
And the rioting mind wildly tossed Molotov moods
into the tenderest memories
The flickering tongues of wrathful flame
consumed even the most beautiful--

The icy troops of logic begun their work:
Digging the trenches for small sanctuary
from the mind-numbing guilt
Filling moats with unadulterated honesty
(truth so clean you can swim in it.)
Promoting platonic philosophies with morose prose
concocted by purely heartless inductions
And destroying the cross-boarder longing letters
long before the verses
become Siren songs only meant for
your appreciation.

The charred memory-scape,
once unmarred, now
Shattered by our own doing -
Such Art!
Beautiful scars, each sharp enough
to puncture a tear duct.
Now the mirror bore faults like jagged grins,
a smile that's stained with antiquity.

Nevermind the bloody fingers
and the infinite shards of countless hurts -
I am content mending the mirror for the rest of history(if only your reflection can linger another half an eternity.)

Defeat - 10/30/2009

Distant laughter intermingled

with birdsongs

haunt

the dead city as the fog of

subtle absence of human sounds

no cars

or even footsteps or heartbeats

only a mild sun

and embers of orange leaves

surfing upon a dull autumn breeze

*     *     *

My childhood idly moped about

a desolate crossroads upon memory lane

under a night-blue sky

The fire shimmered

into nothingness in the west

The stars shrouded

the sunlit swingsets

and curious pebbles

in moonshine sunsets

and snow-melted springs

I stirred, slurred the reflected

pools of moonlit memories

on the rocks,

and the earth

rumbled and thundered

sundered and crumbled

as armies with unsigned search warrants

hammered through the

sun baked dirt walls

like the tide on a child's sandcastle

and flames hailed from

the nothingness of the cosmos,

meteorites striking magically true

to the wombs of women

and the tombs of heroes.

The gentle whisper of

a silent city once so beautiful

covered now

with moss and unearthed corpses

Merciful Love, save us.