Photos
& Poems by Carol Jo
Horn of CJ Ink
The dream of my heart
Converges with
The nightmare of my mind,
In an instant
In a grain of sand.
All that remains is
This ribbon of decay
This gift of emptiness
Ticking slowly toward death.
Each day demands courage
Beyond brave,
Strength beyond strong,
And a heart creating dreams
Louder than a mind can cobble
nightmares.
~~~
Bury a song in a casket of respect
And what is it worth?
Join the sorority of pain-filled
sisters
And where will you live?
Survive death by fire
Only to discover the withered
reality
of delayed extravagance.
Bask in the blazing sun of the
American Dream
And wake to find you've been
robbed of belief.
Do not weep.
It's merely transient realism.
~~~
Mother Nature is a Terrorist.
Yes, she IS the shady
path through a pine forest,
But, as certainly, the tornado
that rips through
your neighborhood
destroying
everything
in sight.
She is the birth of a lamb
and the crib death;
A crocus in spring
and a lightning bolt of fire.
Mother Nature, the Terrorist,
neither smiles nor frowns.
She changes your life in an instant,
in a tick,
in a single breath.
Mother Nature feels no joy or
sadness.
She makes no distinction
between the hurricane
and the rainbow.
It's all the same to her.
Worry and anguish are useless.
She will skip where she is expected
And strike the complacent, unsuspecting.
Not from spite
Or hatred
Or even for love.
Ultimately unfeeling, uncaring,
With no rhyme or reason,
Without a smile or a frown,
No plan
No blueprint
No thought....
Mother Nature the Terrorist just
is.
~~~
Warning
When secrets live behind closed
doors,
A crop of dreams goes up in smoke.
Fueled by lies, deceit and old,
dry memories,
Impossible desires die in embers
of hope unspoken.
~~~
This moon,
In a starlit sky
Could be anywhere.
She could be in Paris, or Bath,
On Sanibel or the Oregon Coast.
When she is full,
(Yes Marge she IS always female)
New Brunswick rocks glow in the
dark.
Puget Sound sparkles at the feet
of the
Olympic Mountains.
And bears fish in Herring Cove.
Juliet lamented the inconstant
moon.
But I bless the constancy of
that circled orb.
For at this exact midnight moment,
Wherever you are
You gaze up in longing
And our hearts unite in her.
~~~
Traces of Heaven
Linger in forests,
The scent of Nature
Untouched for centuries.
Traces of Hellfire
Intrude in War,
The smell of Children
Slaughtered for centuries.
Our choices shape Heaven
and Hell.
So why do we cut trees and make
bombs?
Why pollute streams and train
soldiers?
Just tell us why.
Heaven is not an accident
of Nature
You know.
And Hell is not created by chance.
