The Unspoken Conflict
THE GHOSTLY FORMS
The ghost of a k hides inside
of a knee,
While a deafening silence
breaks on the page.
We live in an awfully good
harmony,
Bound by a quiet and
permanent rage.
The b in the debt does not
make a sound,
The w in answer is locked out
of sight.
They walk like a gnome on
the edge of the ground,
A random order in the middle
of night.
THE TWISTED TWINS
A jumbo shrimp swims in a
blurry clear sea,
With sweet sorrow tasting of
fresh copy air.
The living dead look at the
sole committee,
As pretty ugly truths hide the
things that are there.
We look at a scenic ruin in
time,
And listen to open secrets
they tell.
A found missing clue in the
middle of rhyme,
Like seriously funny stories
from hell.
HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
The autumn is cool with a g in
the sign,
While climbing up mountains
of comb and of crumb.
An old news report on a
planned design,
Leaves everyone sitting there
totally numb.
A glisten of light on the edge
of a sword,
The w is missing but doing its
part.
We find a new classic that we
can afford,
An exact estimate of the beat
of a heart.
THE FINAL CONTRAST
The island is calm with an s in
the sand,
The castle is standing with t
in the stone.
A passive aggressive control
of the land,
Where people are together
alone.
So speak of the honest and
think of the hour,
Where letters are sleeping
and meanings collide.
A sweet tart of language,
both bitter and sour,
With secrets and conflicts
alive on the inside.
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