loss of history

and what used to be went up in flames.

Trees

And when spring blooms again, the trees begin anew.

muse

nature crumbles away.

revolutionary

never again a puppet,i rise with the cannon blaststo the golden sun of the enlightenmentwith the life in me,i write my own history.

Maginot Line

when perfection fails in its purpose.

young forever

names and photographs engraved in history books,the cheers drown out the roar of time,tears remain frozen on my face,dare i surround myself in this cloak of light,the clocks stop,standing on the stage, reaching out for the fans – screams of my name bring me to my knees – an emptiness will swallow me whole tomorrow,yesterday

history

and in the antique pages of the world book,a new page is slowly forming,intertwining yarn, splotches of ink, hasty scrawls,history is being written And it is now a new year for the American government. May they be more prosperous than the previous, and may the future bloom with the heady scent of roses.

The Salem Witch Trials

There were soft whispers,of the rumor kind,that travelled behind my turned back.I closed my eyesto the hard truth,and focused on my two pencesand shabby threadbare dresses. Of calloused handsthat delivered babes,screaming and crying into a blue world,that brushed a sick woman’s hairaway from her crazed blue eyes. Of calloused handsthat hang loosely by my side,the