Rules never apply
as we crawl
to say goodbye...
And the bleeding sun
will hold little mercy
as summer turns cold...
on bruised backs
to stare into heaven...
looking for one small glimpse of faith...

The Dying sun to old links

Nightpoets start page

on the start page you will find many links to friends on the web...and search engines... Poetry of Dark tears

this will be much Different then the first Poetry of Dark Tears...only my intro is the same..

Others In the Darkness

a sight for others who ride the lone highway of Dark Poetry.....need submissions so e-mail me

Nightpoet Alone

its a trip deep into some might not want to see...including myself...


Some very different writing by me....


A story of poems...I think the title explains it all

The Image Of Blackness

This page is being wiped out and will be under construction with my newest writings

New new icq is 39989146

E-mail Is
mail works again as well!!!

The Journey begins where it left off

As the sun begins to sink slowly in retreat 
the daylight shows the sun bleeding through dark glasses
made to shield sensitive eyes from it. A smile spreads across 
ones face for the future lies in the
birth of the night. Waiting, drinking in toast to it's 
death and not even thinking about it's
resurection. The air is heavy with excitement of
 gatherings and festive moods spread like
disease.The cars all rolling back and forth like toys
 searching for that special something,
or someone. Yes, we all celibrate the death of the sun here.
 In summer it is of complete devotion.
No slackers for the festivals. Thunderous music 
and shouts of amusement and amazement
surround us all.The cans lay in crumpled piles
 where pavement once claimed it's right and
we begin to dream of the fires of the night.In this 
next journey there will, as always be no
aim in general to get to a point. Just more shows of 
misery and even the few happy moments
that make up life. Let the birth of the death of day begin:

A match.
The red rose,
and the Bloody sunset.
holding the rose
outlined by fire
and even with the sun.
twins unseperable at birth.
The thornes hurt
and honesty is real
so when handed it
do not lie.
Known is the feeling
of friendship and smiles
but this flower your handed
means life for the wilted.
It is time of your essence
that brought this gift.
while the festival continues.

Blood reflecting off the pavement,
in waves,
as we roll down the highway.
my love
my filled open arms
takes flight on birth of next day.
to blue oceans,
for her blue eyes,
she will go.
though it is not permanent,
i sob like a child,
for feeling's i know,
it feels like the end.
blood stains the horizon,
as i hold her heart to me.
heat from the day
slowly slipping away.
now one must await the wait,
with warmth in thy arms...

black smoke on the covers the sunset with all our fears.
up in the air goes the prospects of money and the helicopters fly on.
fools gold anyway for all there is to say.....

the summer breeze blowing across the mind forces a reliving of betrayal.
the stomach turns and butterflies turn to bats with fangs.
god..why do you play these games? he asks.
the picture before him catches the tear in a splash.
quickly he wipes it off.
it is both gold and a pit of spikes now.
stuck...there is no way off this porch of nails.
no way to put the photo away.
talking to paper with so much to say.
the sinking sun takes his heart to the bottom of the sea....

why the haunting ghosts that rob sleep of its warm embrace on thee?
why the faces that come before thee like a judge and his criminals. the man before a jury to be judged.
so much contact with so few realitys.
why rob the poor man of all he has?
why rob him even if he is deserving?
only an ending makes a begining.
the jury is deadlocked and the judge got drunk.
give back the embrace of closed eyes...its time....

blood on the horizon in fall
all forgiven from my own fall...
left on a wing and i prayed
returned on a prayer
and i got winged...
pain and its brothers
circled thy weary head...
in the bright lights
of some lonlie football night
she returns to the rotten apple
that became of me in her absence...
eyes say
but no words are spoken..
the pain is gone
but it is a revolving door
to return in thy face again and again..
common sense is cheating 
as was the heart held so dear...

why cant these eyes focus
mornings so sober
they claw at the vision..
who wants to face this today?
who wants to stay far away?
cold is the shower
fake smiles
and stares...
take another elevator up
the top holds no memory
only the ride up 
and the fall down...
and the landing 
is a beating no one forgets....


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