KENNETH N COOK

FINAL TRUTH

Dark things
should be whispered
under the breath
where truths are shrouded
in sweet silence,
tears are granted comfort
with trembling touches
and words are etched
in dead languages
upon ancient stones
likes runes of druids;
promises of adventures;
wooden ships setting sail
for that uncharted,
nightmare home beneath
the edge of our sanity
and lost in the center
of the hopelessly
human heart.

THREE SHORT POEMS
FROM THREE PERSPECTIVES

I feel those fingers
sliding slowly
across my palm;
pulling away,
letting go…
stopping my heart.
-----------------------
The coal-black night
squeezes through
the windows,
clamping down
on him
like a suit of iron.
-----------------------
A scream
of crimson rage
cracks through
the clouds
and shakes
the stars
from the
echoing sky.

THE CIRCUS

The stars are out of alignment
and the sky is charged with
flashing bolts of crimson fire.
The moon floats in hushed solitude,
adrift in the hollow dome
of silent, empty blackness.
I gaze up at the absurd circus
that is this lonely universe
and feel the greasepaint on my face.
A shudder ripples through me
for I am a clown, dancing for nobody
while rusty laughter chortles
from out of the shadowy corners
of a dark, unknown chamber,
and endless applause echoes
through a cold, black-iron night.

[KENNETH NORMAN COOK]