Bookstore, Enchantress

Cyberian Girl

Cyberian girl,you blow cold
week in week out driving
your icy stake
through my heart...
you blow hot
burning through barriers,
inducing,inviting
familiar anguish,agony...

Toxic arrogance persists
from irrevokable words
and now,to counter,
amnesic small talk?
The mask has holes
I see through it
there's no place here
for pretentious concern,
and yet I seek comfort
like a fool,
depraved,deprived
of your incendiary sparkle
now long gone
banished,beyond choice...

The ironic candour
that once promised hope
circulates like poison
through my veins
and time becomes an illusion
for the light years between us...
Momentary frissons
recycled,replayed
reminders,remainders
of fantastical foresight,
slain by inevitability...

Oh dusky temptress
you're long gone now
a distant vision
from a distant land,
your lingering,cruel
crepuscular charm
presides, resides
in this hopeless dreamer,
redundant,repetitive
I know...
revolution,evolution
remains quiescent
yet tense,present
future's past...

Isle be gone

...And as I turn around to look back
at the old tower now cloaked in black,
Rapunzel has shut her window
and the wind has ceased to blow,
the rain has ended and I wonder how
and then I see the empty clouds above,
The boatman waits to take me aboard
he's been rather faithful to his word,
"I'm at your command, I'll be there anytime,
anyplace anywhere,I won't charge a dime"...
And I wonder if that's what life's about
sailing around with no fixed route
giving in to the whims of the wind
and not counting the times we've sinned,
if at all one needs to remember and sigh
its worth noticing that time's gone by
but the numbers won't add up in any case
all I need to count are the scars on the face
of this wretched earth that still thirsts
for salty tears from emotional spurts,
but my taste buds tell me otherwise...
that they're bittersweet and I despise
the reasons, redundant... undeserved
as memories in jars preserved
tell stories of hopes and desires
of past foibles and misfires,
And now I take these pages
filled with verse and images
and set them free as paper boats
each a snapshot of the mind's notes,
maybe some will visit your shores one day
but most I believe will sink on their way...
"land ahoy" yells the man with the oar,

"so soon?" I ask, shaken from my stupor

"aye sir,remember we're sailing the sea of time,
and there are plenty of isles inside your mind"...