John Mark Siklere Poems

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.
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Blow me away; far away.
When in your heart you bid me stay.
Blow me away into the grey,
let me into oblivion stray.
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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.
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I came to dance
The night away;
Fireflies and burning spray.
You can dream
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?
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How big are her melons?

How far apart are they?
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