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maelstrom
In this inky
night
a wet whisper
wafts
Close
this hole
with feathery
sparks
of light –
scarlet shoots
burst doubt to sway to tumble
Find me
home again
all cogs
oiled and I stuck no
longer lost in this maelstrom
longer lost in this maelstrom
miscontent born of miscast
allegiance
Restore as all was before
this my cry unto this inky night
~
All Heed The Tin Man
ah
the youthful Tin Man
walks
in inky night
holding
close wet can of slipping oil
creaking
feathery
sparks of scarlet light
unnatural
fireflies follow in the inky night
ah
the youthful Tin Man wanders-lost
in
doubt of certain self annihilation
anxious
of never again agility ability
scarlet
sparks in the inky night
a
gathering crowd shoots flames of
promised
coming conflagration
following
in his sway
ah
the Tin Man groans
screeching
metal on metal screams
terrified
in tempest tossed irrevocable regret
The
Hole, The Hole,
the
squander, the leak
acknowledging
he cannot
still
the spill
and
all lost
for
a careless moment
of
sharp tongued play
~
Pig and the Stinky Hole*
Once upon a night so inky
came Pig upon hole lit with cheery sparks full and stinky
Looked Pig into the deepest of darks hole
blocked by a feathery face crying bottom up - “Stop! You need
a toll.”
“A toll for what?” Called Pig down in
doubt.
“A toll to see what down here is all
about.”
In that night so black and inky
Pig stood on the edge of that hole so temptingly stinky,
spied down that hole a scarlet shimmered
light,
tossed doubt away and thought he just
might
pay the toll and squiggle down and around
into that delectable stinky hole in the sweet green
ground.
Perched on precipice of sway – oiled, ready,
on his way.
Pig stopped. - One cloven hoof poised, not
yet lost
Retreated and asked “What is the cost?”
And in a night so inky and so now sweetly dark
Disappeared each single and collective spark
Leaving Pig to sigh and wipe cheeks wet
With relief for the deceptive demons gone
unmet
*for the child in all
