Every Ghost Story Is The Translation Of Trauma. Every Heartbreak Can Produce Ghosts, As Every First Kiss

Where did the bodies go?

Rest in peace Cruzeiro Seixas (1920-2020)

Plato’s Paradise

As I walk through the allegory of my own cave I take a look at the shadows and realize the forms’ll save ‘Cause I’ve been speakin’ and teachin’ so long That even Protagoras thinks my mind is gone But I ain’t never crushed a thought that didn’t deserve it Basing my work in the world, you know that’s unheard of You better watch how you talkin’ and where you walkin’ Or you and your sophists might be lined in chalk I really hate to trip, but I gotta show As they choke, I see the victory is mine they know Fool, I’m philosophy that little bloggers wanna be like On my couch in the night, spittin’ truths in the polis heights  Keep spending most our lives Livin’ in platonic paradise Been spending most their lives Livin’ in platonic paradise We keep spending most our lives Livin’ in platonic paradise We keep spending most our lives Livin’ in platonic paradise

​Write. Write every day until your head is empty and your demons are quiet.

We Fight

People bray, and shout, and scream                                                               They fight and rage against the machine.                                                           Yet fire still falls from the sky                                                                                Mothers pray and children cry                                                                               And voices are still silenced beneath the bloodstained sand and sun and snow, and tomorrow still torrents towards us from a strange and distant land.

Have I established a pattern perhaps?

A bi-annual mental collapse?

History doesn’t remember everything, history forgets too. Names lost in the sands, how many things buried in the bottom of the hourglass?

Ha!

Riverdale: The River's edge

A tale of a town It looks oh so nice It’s river so sweet But something dark lurks underneath

A new arrival From a city so mad To run from a scandal Caused by her Dad

A fiery Blossom With very cold roots Fighting a rival Who knows what to choose

A bond of love Painful for one The other feels nothing Not for so long

A secret of two A shot in the light Must never be told Or it will drive one to flight

Passion and lust Between two in the night Uncovers a body A Blossom has died

A Writer A Singer A Lover A Killer

A murder A watery dredge Thus starts the story on the river’s edge