Uncharted waters.
Strong, acetate winds.
Blowing all the Gails away.
An October chill:
Circle route along Mishigami.
The car winds with the road.
This is the end game.
All those years ago.
The secret truth.
Leading to metaphor.
Stories.
Poems.
The harbor at the still.
The moment of release.
It is done.
October hauntings no more.
K.J.K. 10-3-2013
Clouds wrap ‘round the full moon like cotton candy ‘round the spindle.
There is silence in the land.
Air Conditioners drone no more.
September transitions, traditions - the ringing of school bells.
Open jackets, drawn a little closer but not yet closed.
The setting sun - earlier every day.
Lawnmowers give way to the rake or leaf blower.
The crackle and smoke of leaves.
That no one ever burns.
Apples drop off wild tree.
Hidden to no child.
Nor the parent who takes them to doctor.
All round the landscape is slowly painted in to shades of brown and red.
As if some invisible hand picked up a cosmic paint brush.
Knowing that it’s time for a change.
K.J.K. – 09/16/2013
So many years ago;
Close like yesterday.
Far away like a lifetime ago.
39 years old.
Nothing to show for it.
Except pain, tears and self destruction.
Doors opened with the flashing of a still blade.
Hearts opened, emotion spilled.
On stage and life.
Diversity of age, race and outlook.
So many ideas never before dreamt of.
Let alone pondered.
I am not alone!
Soul family, blood family.
Love.
Ordinary Angels.
Unaware of their “angelic” qualities.
Or “Fae” attributes.
Just people like you and me.
Doing the best that they can.
Holding up a candle in the darkness.
55 Years old.
I’m not a rich man.
But I have a treasure trove of family.
Blood and Soul.
Who wrap around me as I do them.
Watch out for each other.
Share this special magic.
I see in their hearts.
This magic, I think better known, as the auspices of love.
K.J.K. – 1/12/2012
The Undertaker's coughing, there’s a fever in the land.
The Undertaker's coughing, it’s more then scientists understand.
The Undertaker's coughing, there’s nothing more they can do.
The Undertaker's coughing, it was some kind of flu.
The Undertaker's coughing, there’s a fever in the land.
The Undertaker's coughing, he thought himself a righteous man.
The Undertaker's coughing, he has nails 2 by 2.
The Undertaker's coughing, he knows what he must do.
The Undertaker's coughing, there’s a fever in the land.
The Undertaker's coughing, wood shaped with paper sand.
The Undertaker's coughing, answering his call.
The Undertaker's coughing, to bury the last of mankind’s great fall.
The Undertaker's coughing, there was a fever in the land.
The Undertaker's coffin, covered deep in the sand.
The Undertaker's coffin, does he sleep inside?
The Undertaker's coffin, the last man to live at the turning of the tide.
K.J.K. – 03/15/2013
I am 10.
The green swing set with yellow seats.
Motions of a stormy day.
When the waters stated pouring.
In to a heart.
That already knew.
And I am The Pan.
The little boy.
Never to grow old.
The hornets knew.
Even if frightening:
The hornets knew and protected.
The place of where I transgress.
Grip the sword of warrior.
Dipped in hemlock emotion.
And I am The Pan
See the was in front
What could of been.
If I never grew up.
To Give up that spark
Called wonder.
The Land calls me.
To the resting table
Altar of the passing plate.
Gather us hand in hand.
Heart to heart.
Celebrate this change.
Tears watering the roots of tomorrow.
As Land quakes.
And I am still The Pan.
K.J.K. 5-15-03
