Rockwell--Shaw

Sonnet Sweetest heart and deepest eyes, Guardian, thy soul is pure; No hatred hold, nor delve in lies, Though many trials thee'll endure. Hold fast, Stranger; fear not weep, Fear not storms nor creatures dark. Sade is thee in thy's warm keep, In thee's chest burns harty spark. With steadfast courage, thee I trust From darkest dusk 'til brightest dawn. Corrupt not, nor held by lust, Thee is faithful, sword undrawn. If thee's detained in dimmest grove, Hold fast to heart, and mind not rove.

There Something there I see is Red Warm, not dead Still, but stead Something there I see is Red Something that entreats me Something there I see is Blue Fresh and New Calm and Flew Something there I see is Blue Something that defeats me Something there I see is Green Never seen Hid by screen Something there I see is Green Something that relieves me Something there I see is Dark Near and hark Grows a spark Something there I see is Dark Something that believes me Something there I see is light Not a plight Though a sprite Something there I see is light Something that depletes me Something there I see is Red Never fled

Here Something, here, I feel is cold New then old Shy then bold Something, here, I feel is cold Something that restrains Something, here, I feel is waiting Still debating Still relating Something, here, I feel is waiting Something now that gains Something, here, I feel is beating Never needing Now receding Something, here, I feel is beating Something that pertains Something, here, I feel is calling Going, stalling Flying, falling Something, here, I feel is calling Something that refrains Something, here, I feel is cold Blue then gold Red and fold Something, here, I feel is cold Something now that strains

                                                  Prologue                                                       Candles My life ended at age six. I remember it so vividly, that last fleeting moment of tranquility, that last breath where everything tasted crisp and pure like mountain air. That last moment before my world was to come crashing down on top of my head and crushing what little pure and innocent soul I had left inside of me. I remember being alive, sitting up in my room, staring out my window into the dark night. It had been my birthday that evening; Family had gathered and we had celebrated the usual way with cake and ice cr

Mary Had A Little Doll Mary had a little doll She dressed and fed it well She kept it dry when rain would fall And thought it rather swell Her little doll, so sweet and kind, Accepted gifts so graciously But Mary dearest kept in mind The pain the doll stored viciously While on a walk one sunny day Mary and her doll did spy The Preacher of the church, and prayed An exorcism he'd not try But he caught sight and flipped a fit And Mary felt not well He cursed and flailed and flipped a fit And said she’d go to hell So Mary took her dolly home And with a spiteful air, Cut a slit in dolly’s dome And stuffed her with the

Jo, Jo Jo, Jo Standing in snow Never knew Which way to go Never knew Just who to see Never knew where Or when to be Jo, Jo Standing in snow Who’s life had highs And dreadful lows Who’s memory comes And memory goes As biting cold Bites at his nose Jo, Jo Sitting in snow Wishing for rain to fall And wind to blow For Summer to come And Spring to go For Fall’s reprieve And Winter’s glow Jo, Jo Sitting in snow Breathing hard And breathing slow Waiting for His life to go And melt away With ice and snow Jo, Jo Laying in snow Willing to sleep Willing to go Missing those friends He dared let go

insanity in its mildest form a nervous twitch, eyes rolling back into your head how long will you hold out? even insanity in its mildest form will kill feast on the blood that seeps from the wounds that shard of silver slitting your throat greedilly stealing away the light from your eyes enclosing you in a sickening embrace altogether so comforting and alluring you can't resist insanity, even in its mildest form constricting the beats of your heart keeping your breathing at a bare minimum twisting that silver twine around your neck squeezing the very words from your lips dripping down into that velvety oblivion for even insanit

I Will Not I will not tell you what it is that's wrong that is much too simple besides that fact you'd never understand and that it is not in a matter of words but more like images people places feelings I can not tell what it is that lingers in this hollow heart I will not I will not tell you what it is I crave to tell Even if oblivion looms for it's a secret kept even from myself A shallow reality I struggle to control and restrain Like a rabid hound thirsting For blood Flesh Bone Even when my heart fills itself with this oppressing sickness I will not

Flower A day A year An hour Captured thus Inside a flower Counting all The moments past Joys like such Can never last A week A month A second Tilting thus The flower beckoned Summing all My mortal fears In this fragile Angel's tears In no breath Or space Or time Can any human rhyme Captivate this Lovely flower Who's life Lasts but An hour

That Musty Smell I found myself down main street this morning, walking Jake, letting him rediscover all the sights and smells that were now to be his home, when I saw this man sitting up against a building.  His knees were drawn up to his chest and were visible through the growing holes in his jeans--He was wearing an oversized parka that was worn nearly thread bare, and stuffing poked up through the holes within the fabric.  He had no shirt, and I could see him shivering, even from the distance I was at, his short red hair damp from some unknown liquid.  His bare toes were curled, and his feet were dirt-encrusted and lined with dried blood.