Ode to an Oak Tree

Underneath the tall majestic oak,
shrouded in her cloak n dagger shade,
caressed by Spanish moss hair,
sad melancholy descending downward,
upon the tainted canvass of earth below.


You seem to weep over the loss of yet 
another friend, sad yet; somehow
accustomed you have grown into your
role of "lamenting sister" that is mourning
the passing of your brethren.


Your arms wield such power, strong in  stature, 
yet seem willowy and vulnerable to the naked
eyes of a passing poet.


Universal Equations
Nights underneath Spanish skies,
weeping blue fathomed death chants,
drinking beer and sangria via a parched
mouth, feeling like an unsolved Dionysian Mystery.

The copper moon slithers into the foreground of our
own impending fatality. Frail innocents of the earth,
she has been plucked like a daisy grown over a vile cesspit,
murdered at this; the grim hour of dawn.

We laughed like the mad shaman of an unknown
tribe, born from the myths and legends of the phosphorous
stars. Stars that are now enshrouded within their own mystery, 
they to have gone before us, they have taken the wise ones,
to cohabitant the silken cradle of humanity.