Anura by Enlil

 Enlil Resides
Dagan sits padded hands
Turned inward side by side
head upward in pride

Pride of the imperial pond
Croak from beyond
Power over the thin lush shore
Inside Enlil's sacred law

A strange creature resides
It's pupils from other dimensions
The eel fakes departure
Slippery lie

Out of sight from deep
The intentional killer
Explodes the sediment layer
Voracious Pike

Dagan invades their dreams
Haunts them in their lairs
The spirit growing in water
Becoming every creature's fear

Becoming the unnatural entity
Presiding over the life force pond
Tadpoles proliferate
Predators now gone

Elli spare me

 Elli came walking in
Things were sagging
I looked at the cliff

I said to her
One day i'd like to get up there
She laughed and mocked my knees

Elli came riding a boney horse
Grinning like the twelth demon
I touched the sky and pleaded

Her laughter broke out and attacked 
Seeking me like disease
With my good eye I winked

Bought myself another decade
Grateful chuckle as I tackled the jagged
Old cat of a women pleading

Oh I must build and conquer
Build and conquer
Come back a million times

She whined like an agonizing blizzard
Cutting at me with her frost
My hair whitened so I pulled it out

Ken you not old woman!:
For I am the poet who has hopped the sea
Touched the past

Elli let me grow some still
Bury not yet me

Coming to the rescue

 Do you need anything?
Can I help you with your feelings?
Are you not vulnerable enough?
Lets pull a string and expose you a little more.

No, Don't expose me or crush me.
Just because I'm not doing okay today.
Don't stick your nose in and mix it up.
Just try to accept I'm way down right now.

So I don't need anything from you.
Just well wishing, beyond that leave me with same silence.
In the same sense of cold and absence that makes me tremble.
Just wave and say hello, but don't come superheroing near me.

Because Only I can save myself.
Only I can shape my future.
Survive and recover.
To be something more than what I see before myself today.

The coloring book

 Your life is a coloring book
You select the colors randomly
you color over the edges inappropriately
A child distracted

For in the essential form of yourself
All must have symmetry and order
Same number of feathers on both wings
yet here all is unequal

Like a city of mansions and slums
Of twisting unmaintaned streets
and perfectly paved and landscaped boulevards
magic and confusion pouring out of the contrasts

A line and blotch upon the unspoilt area
Outside the outline
Fumbling the colored pen
Forming the accidental graffiti of your life

Morning lost man

 Ice tipped grass.
Pointing out the sky.
branches naked.
Homeless man sleeps beneath them.

His bicycle propped up against him.
Dirty jacket, stained jeans, black beanie.
The wood underneath half rotten.
Morning keeps him sleeping.

Early walkers pass through.
Observe him by mistake.
Looking away not to meet eyes.
Incase the poor man is awake.

People noone want.
Where do they go?
How do we lift them up.
When they lie in a world of their own.

Pandemonium ideal

 My sporadic mind is at it again.
I am told to focus, my heart is saying.
My heart knows my mind is straying.
Loving clarity shouldn't be a crime inside my psyche.

There could be creative guidelines instead I'm flighty.
But as soon as those ideas start to form.
It all just feels like i'm living the norm.
Deep down I reach for tools to sculpt me.

To write when winning not when sulking.
To narrow words when cutting.
And expand when bulking.
Live each day happily.

Is my sporadic mind helping me.
In gaining intellectual hypertrophy.
Or just obsessed with pandemonium.
With grand dreams we own and hold in.

The last ship to safety

 We will save ourselves on the ferry.
It is getting ready to take off.
The laggards skip and speed up.
Trying to get close to the boarding ramp.

Some will dive into the drink.
Chasing the boat out beyond the straight.
Those people will swallow salt water and disappear,
beneath the low drippy waves.

The rest will wait on the shoreline.
As if to get the last little glance of the vessel vanishing.
Makeshifts shelters and desperate chanting.
For they didn't make it in time.

The last of the voices are silenced,
restless midnight murmurs.
They know to hush.
As things that can't be named roam the land.

Tracking us down by the demons in our heads.