Have You Ever Kissed A Dragon?

They say

it is all possible

in the dreams

and they say correctly.

I dreamt it first

then did it all again;

the same God-awful

image of me all in flames.

I saw the dragon

and approached it;

I looked it in the eyes

and did not stop to move forward.

It had the greenest eyes

and it was smiling;

It said “come closer,

kiss me and you’ll never die.”

One can’t see the flames…

but I am burning.

Inside, outside,

in this life, in all others that may come.

I am the flames,

I am the dragon’s own breath.

Fire can’t kill the dragons,

nor one can put off the flames that started of a kiss.

The Circle Of Life And Of Death

(Life And Death In Antarctica)

The mad winds vivacious  

are moving

the mountains of 

robust, sharp violet snow.

It is the winter’s reign

that mightily bellows

with ruthless,

savage, dreadful zest.

The sounds of hell

discordant, paltry –  

the chorus old

of long gone gods.

The lone public devoted

of the demented, dark, blues

is an Emperor’s penguins

dark, dancing, little crowd.

For the outside spectator

macabre is this.

Idolatry are the dancers,

and pagan’s the dance.   

In the core

of the rhythmic, slow movement 

the smallest

of their own  

goes around and around.

Enveloped by their dancing mothers,

encircled by protective, dancing dads,

The dance has much greater purpose –

keep the heat! Preserve frugal life!  

There’s another 
intrinsic of reasons

for the unstopping, 
so gracious dance…

Outcasting the sick and

the old ones!

So the outermost circle’s not moving - 
fading slowly in violent, brisk snow.

Un déprimiste

“Teacher?” the disciple bowed.

“Yes son?” the master bowed back.

 “How do I defeat

my depression?”

“You don’t!”

“You will look into it,

long enough,

and there you’ll find splendour”

No teacher 

said this. 

Nor a disciple

ever existed.

It was me -

my own inspirational master.

I was the disciple

who did listen and found beauty there.