THE REAPERS ROSE GARDEN

Where dead souls grow from the roots of life

The reapers rose garden is nowhere , but everywhere in the mind

No night , no day

Statues of horseman fighting battles in hell

An angel is shackled down playing instruments of the dead

The reaper sits in a stone chair

A man with no feet tells him the gossip of century pass

There is a Billy goat , two ravens and a vulture,and they are having a tea party with blood and bones

In the distance the reaper watches the childern play, with hands covering their eyes,while poison ivy grabs at their feet

He sits watches and waits

He picks a blood red rose inhaling deeply

A smile crosses his white ,like the death of what he is, face

A soul is ready to be taken

This soul hangs on to life , but he knows it will join the garden as they all do

CAK 2/1992

THIS ONE WAS WRITTEN WHILE I LIVED IN PERTH AMBOY N.J IT CAME FROM A DREAM I WOKE UP WITH THE IMAGE AND THE TITLE AND HERE IT IS OFCOURSE IT IS 17YEARS OLD WOW TIME FLYS WHEN YOUR STILL WRITING I WAS 18 AND GOING THROUGH A VERY TOUGH TIME

I CANNOT STRESS FOR ME AT LEAST HOW IMPORTANT MY MUSES ARE TO ME CERTAIN PEOPLE INSPIRE ME IT IS A RARITY SOME TIMES I WILL GET INSPIRED BY A PERSON ON THE BUS ,OR A SONG, MY MOM WAS A BIG INSPIRATION ,MY BROTHER GIVES ME A LOT THEN THERE IS THE ONES I CANNOT EXPLAIN IT IS A MENTAL FIGHT I GO TO WRITE AND AN IMAGE POPS IN MY HEAD AND FOR ME IT IS A LOSING BATTLE I WRITE WHAT I SEE AND FEEL, THIS IS WHEN I AM THE MOST ME.