I’ve got George Powers
He’s bad.
So I keep him in the back.
In the dark passages of my brain.
He’s bad.
So it’s black where he lives.
Black and dirty and I don’t like it there.
So I don’t go there.
*
Sometimes George comes out.
To visit.
He’s bad so he doesn’t like the light.
So he doesn’t stay long.
He fantasizes about the dark
out here.
He likes to cut people.
It doesn’t matter how.
He likes to hurt people.
Darkness closes in on all
as the witching hour draws near.
Festering hands reach from the ground.
The night holds a profound fear.
*
From the graves of evil folk
rise the carcases of hell.
Their coffins also rotted weak
the corpses neither taste nor smell.
*
Searching for the air of blood
the cadavers shuffle round.
The night is in a silent flood
They don’t utter a single sound.
*
Cadavers there and everywhere
in their search for flesh.
They do not think of what is fair
for they are in a wicked mesh.
It’s raining 
in the still dark night
as it had
during the soft grey day.
There’s a continuous hush…
as the rain settles on the earth
and she lies close to me.
*
The sweet burden of her head
rests in my arm.
Her cheek
and long bright hair
contrasting softness on my bare skin.
My sweet child’s hand on my chest
soft, sensitive and fragile.
What warmth it gives.
It warms me to the core.
*
I squeeze her slightly.
She stirs
moving closer.
Her breath warms my soul
and my soul sheds a tear
of a single pearl
from my eye
for love.
And in the black night
many tears fall from heaven.
Wizards and dragons
living and deadly.
Adventurers,
seeking new treasures
in yesterday’s legends
of gold dragons.
Their hoards
are said to be great.
Gems and gold
they guard.
Do we always shift our priorities.
I understand I understand and see.
Always shifting the dust.
We need so much love so many tears and lust.