Poet Dragon Poems

People aren't born for what they do, but what their parents dream.
People don't grow for growing's sake, but for the future's gleam.
People don't live to one day die, they live to put off dying.
People don't work to build themselves, they work to stave off crying.
...

What was there left of her
after the bad men touched her?
What fragile sense of wonder shattered?
...

I greet the burden of your soul
and wonder if your heart is whole
when one can hold it out to share
beware of love, beware.
...

When hopelessness or passion's throes ignites us,
lost emotion casts confusion everywhere.
When hatred of our flesh's prison grates us,
how much easier is forgetting that we care?
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Pierced by an arrow,
pierced by a phrase
Killed by a sentance,
trapped in a maze
...

He lives each day
one hour at a time
listening to the old
and rusty gears
...

He traveled to the canyon,
and thought it worth its name
a canvas for the sunset's gleam
to luminesce with flame
...

Whispers, like echoes of a faint past, crowd around me
They bathe me with their memories, their impositions
Laying pathways of guilt and gossip across my soul
Speaking softly of sins and sorrows that are not mine
...

Consider the empty black ease of death
so much more peaceful than the meth
and without the shades of gray between
simple, dark shadows, invisible, unseen
...

How do you see the dragon? Wings unfurled, claws spread?
Does the mouth gape, does the mind function?
Is it a part of you, intimate and undeniable?
Or merely an imagining, metamorphed into a metaphore?
...