John Mark Siklere

A wisper and a glance Death does his dance.
A stance of grey balance in a daub instance,
Death does his dance.
The light of life dims whiles the black clouds of mourners gather.
...

Blow me away; far away.
When in your heart you bid me stay.
Blow me away into the grey,
let me into oblivion stray.
...

All that glitters is gold;
only if you'll be so bold
to ride upon a thought so old.
The Evil that men do is lying on the side walk.
...

I came to dance
The night away;
Fireflies and burning spray.
You can dream
...

Is love made to cripple;
to break in two?
To wheel around on tires of two?
When I think of love I think of two.
...

I'm in a place where lines don't merge and contours don't fit.
A hollow under a bridge where the Meridian emerges
from the bowel of a greasy Earth.
I'm bound by no definition, X and Y and latitudes don't confine me.
...

When the day is o'er and the sun traces the abyss deep;

My eyes to the east are fixed waiting in earnest for another day.
...

If it is wrong why does it feel so right?
Why would darkness appear in the fragrance of light?
If it is a mistake then why is the Inner-Me striving to earn it?
If it is wrong why does my heart fight to claim it?
...

How big are her melons?

How far apart are they?
...