Storms May Rage

Tearing up the winding stairs…

She’s abandoned, wild, uncertain
Tearing up the winding stairs;
Through the backroom’s secret curtain
Up past all the lifted prayers

Dark the angry night is screaming
All she had is lost and gone:
Lightning flashing, rain is streaming
One last task that she’s bent on

But the tower’s not deserted
One old woman there’s withdrawn:
Calmly looks up, as alerted
Says, “I know what’s going on.

I know what has happened, dearest –
And this way is not the way:
There’s a future still ahead, much
Better than your yesterday.”

That was forty years ago and
Now she waits within the tower:
For the young girl broken-hearted
Who she’ll give a bit of power

Just to know that life’s not ending
Just to show what’s yet-to-be:
Storms may rage, with doom impending
But there’s hope
Past what
We see

Here It Is

The guest we never want,
Who will not leave

Is not an academic thing,
Nor is he quite reducible
By words

For there is no reality
That’s greater than
What can’t be touched again

And here it is:
Another sunset, meaningless
Within this strange and empty


a hundred-weight of dreams

a hundred-weight of dreams inside
a thousand-weight of fears;
some scattered days of hope within
and dozen months of tears —

a dread that’s born of emptiness,
a questioning of worth:
a plague of such anxiety
as rends the very earth.

the colors of accomplishment,
ineptitude, or both;
the tearing sound that signifies
both injury and growth —

the hotel with its silence, or
the spotlight with its cheers —
a hundred-weight of dreams inside
a thousand-weight
of fears

© Andriy Bezuglov | – Redhead girl with wet hair sits in the bath full of water with m


what is your truth? what have you seen
when no one else was there to see?
is there a lonely spot of road
that's made from you or maybe me?

you knew one in the wintertime
when walls were painted with despair
and no place that you went preferred
to anywhere
or everywhere

what is your plot? your character? 
  your theme?
why do you linger over post, 
  or meme,
or stare at empty screens and wait 
  for words?
or dream of flight, while sealing out 
  the birds?

the lonesome road of wintertime
the isolated way;
the habits that are character,
the token we must pay
to see while we have eyes to see,
and not to look away:
for humankind is horrible
past what mere words can say.

our eyes look down,
the raptors coil above:
it's only love that is our hope,
and all our hope must be
in only

The Cheerless Road of Winter

The saddest day I’ve ever had
Lies shrouded there, in time;
The nights I spent among the mad,
These are not yet in rhyme

The cheerless road of winter, where
Despair was born of doubt –
Just like the greatest loss I’ve known
That I don’t write about

Yet, I hope what I do not say’s
Relatable, somehow –
There’s madness in the very air,
It’s all around us now

Still there, within the frozen past,
The branches bare I see;
A lonely road in winter, where
I lost the best
Of me

Now every pathway seems the same…

Now every pathway seems the same,
And choices vary not at all;
The way of hope, the way of blame,
The spring, the summer, winter, fall –

They’re all one road. It’s all one thing.
The path of tentative mistrust
That each new footstep seems to bring
Her in this world
Of lies
And dust

Interlace 1

I would defend your honor, if I could:

There’s now a pressure on my eyes,
That makes my vision blurry;

And send benighted temper, with its hood,

As lately, I would realize,
It’s dangerous to scurry –

To where it never bothers you again –

As constantly, mortality
Surrounds, and I’m aware:

And be a guard for you among all men

The unimpaired finality
That’s always looming there