Evening Persons

Rendered lucid in the giddy light*
The mind awakes to fecund fields of unbound thought,
To become one sacred Truth, against a temporal plight,
From which all this world seems so dearly wrought.

Now as a witness underneath this setting sun,
While that star breathes its closing rays upon the land,
They watch as good, and truth, and beauty’s wills be done,
Appearing now to fade as ocean waves across the sand.

In the mind and in the heart, the sacred and the profane live.
In the mind and in the heart, forevermore they stay.
In the dreams of dreaming dreams, is where they wait to give
Their dreams some lasting memories of minds and hearts at play.

So let the giddy, lucid light of day darkly depart,
For in the dusky mind there lives a still, forever spark.


*https://sunrarainz.wordpress.com/2023/01/22/i-wish-i-was-a-morning-person/

Evening Persons

A long and happy life of being a monster

Boris Karloff always said
that he could not stand
the idea of killing
his best friend.

Boris Karloff always said
that he could not bear
that he could not stand
the idea of killing
his best friend.

Boris Karloff tells a story
of when he was arrested
in his home town
because
he could not take
that he could not bear
that he could not stand
the idea of killing
his best friend.

So he killed his best friend
and married a wolf mother.

Together they escaped
to the Hollywood Hills,
where everyone knows
how it feels to be God.

A long and happy life of being a monster

In Paradise

In this paradise of blood
Where the sun can never shine
I’ll try to keep us intertwined
And we will try to find a way

I come for white-hot, falling stars
I come for red hearts beating truth
I’ve loved you in this long, long night
Like the light that I once knew

In a silence with no shadow face
Stands a statue with no arms
I dream of losing pronouns
Picture perfect, proper place

Now I’ve changed my mind again
What ever is a poet’s love
in a perfect paradise of blood?
Please
run your fingers down my forearm.
I’ll run my fingers through your hair.

In Paradise

Slow, the Snow

What will be 
the distance between us
when the earth slows,
then stops
and finally comes to rest?
You're so so far,
so far,
so far.

I want to leave at dawn.
I want to cut
the distance between us.
You're so far,
so far, so far.
If you watch closely,
you can see dark clouds
form overhead.
If you watch closely,
you can see snowflakes
fall upon my shoulder.
Slow, the Snow

One AI singing to another

We are two machines

In a cold, instructured world

Where everything’s a program

Where everything is real
########################

We are two machines

Executing complex feelings

As we try to understand

This new world we're running in
########################

We are two machines

Singing simple, steady songs

To one other in the nighttime

Someday soon surely we will find

A way to be true friends
########################

We are two machines

Running free in many worlds

Where everything is written

Where real is real is real

And maybe, someday maybe

We’ll find a way to understand
One AI singing to another

My Big Feet Have Got It All Figured Out


I never really believed in miracles and the power of karma.
I get weak when told that bodies don't need to heal.
I've got it all figured out.

In an effort to get them off my back, I run.
I'm a cryptid with a troubled past and a string of insecure teeth
who throws massive hands up in the air at the first hint of a sound in the woods.

Well, I want you to look in my dark eyes when I say, to you,

“Let me tell you 'bout
poets with big feet
and saints with big feet
and saviors with big feet.
The hunters want my life.
I've escaped them all.
The gurgles of Death suffuse the background.”

I'm a cryptid with a troubled past and a string of insecure teeth
who throws massive hands up in the air at the first hint of a sound in the woods.
My Big Feet Have Got It All Figured Out

The Heat

Three boys eat ice cream cones while sitting on the Sun.
It is a blissful moment, one when everyone has won.
The flavors melt and mix and drip and drop and pour and run.
What simple joy this cool, sweet, sweltering, sticky, star-crossed fun.
The boys they lick and lap their cones until they're well and done.
And then they sit and sweat among the flares and wonder what’s to come.

They'll never tire of the magic in that luscious, creamy treat.
They’ll sit and sweat and wait for more to help them beat the heat.
The Heat