PART I: REFLECTIONS

"THERE IS IN THE WORLD A WAR GOING ON...."

A WAR WHERE PEOPLE CHANGE OVER NIGHT,

WHERE LOVERS TURN INTO HATERS,

WHERE FAMILIES FALL WITHOUT A FIGHT,

AND FRIENDS ARE DENOUNCED AS TRAITORS.

MY MIND IS A BATTLEGROUND INCARNATE,

WHERE SOLDIERS DIE ON INSTINCT,

AND LONELINESS SEEMS TO BE MY FATE,

AS THE CHILDREN I'VE KNOWN ARE ALL BUT EXTINCT.

I TAKE A TRAIN TO "SAFETY"

WHERE GROUPS OF PSEUDO-CHILDREN GATHER,

AN INDIVIDUAL AMONG REFLECTIONS

WHO MUST STAND ALONE OR RATHER -

RETURN INTO A WORLD

WHERE PAIN AND SORROW KILL LIKE CANCERS,

AND A SOCIETY OF UNSOLVED PROBLEMS

WITH ONLY RAZOR BLADES FOR ANSWERS.

SLEEPING ALONE WITH THE MEMORIES OF YOU,

DREAMS OF CRUELTY AND DANGER,

REMEMBERING VISIONS STILL DARK AND TABOO,

THAT WERE SHARED IN THE EYES OF THE STRANGER.

AN IMAGE WALKS THROUGH THE SHATTERED REMAINS,

THE STRANGER DISGUISED IN THEE,

AS LIPS TOUCH WRISTS WITH SLIGHT CRIMSON STAINS,

YOUR HUNGER IS ALL I CAN SEE.

"YOU FEEL IT DON'T YOU?"...THAT'S WHAT I ASK

IN FEAR YOU'LL FADE WITHOUT TRACE...

"WHAT?" YOU WHISPER...FROM BEHIND YOUR MASK,

A CARESS...

A TOUCH...

A KISS...

AN EMBRACE.

© SEPTEMBER 1993 By Menes

-FOR RICK STOMPS-

WHO INSPIRED THIS POETRY YEARS

BEFORE I HAD THE BALLS TO ADMIT IT.

I HOPE YOU ARE WELL... AND THAT I

HAVEN'T GREATLY OFFENDED YOU WITH

MY BELATED HONESTY.