Woman and Fire

Woman and Fire

Perfect Mixture of Woman and Fire

We visit her new offices
I’m impressed
She’s at the head of her table
Now she’s free to leave
The papers are collected
She gets up for a drink
Smiling to see me again, we meet
Compliments and comments exchange
Business gets concluded
It’s time to close
I’m the last one out
She makes her move, steps back into me
Turning to save her, eyes met, we kiss
Acting on impulse, my heart is warmed
Excitement rules my mind
I look at her, she learns my name
Our plans then formed
The day is saved
The memory made

-Jeremy Edward Dion

For The Age of The Days

A poem for the age of the days

Elevated risk
Distrust and regret
Planning for planners
Panning for niche

All we want is gold
When all is repeated
Her purity holds
Normalcy restored

The dangers of hope
Reality a biting dose
A constant sting
Consistently clinging

We are to fault
For failing each other
Our borders limitation
But the mind willing

We want love
Drug of the ageless
Shower of redemption
Sharing to pieces

The times are short
Falling from cliffs edge
Testing our wisdom
Teasing the seasoned

Carting this burden
Truth a heavy ore
Obscured with dirt
Surveyed soullessly

Quarry of fraternity
Vacant of morals
Lusts for potential
Obsessed with death

Children still playing
Blissfully unknown
Hiding from God
Father is building

We always want more
Sing from the heart
Burning of souls
Or decidedly not

Our choice of freedom
Shaded design fades
Accepting of truth
Hail storm of plays

Light willing heart chilling
The fray commences
Life lost loving
Tears unburdened

Calmness prevails
Cold sea of corpses
Rising with each wave
Sinking in times waste

Cheering felt among silence
Heart of pang subsiding
Skies of clearing blue
Living beyond ensign

Now we know freedom
Love without limit
Caring not cursing
Absence of heathens

This but a wish
A sight of sublime
Prayer of thyself
My poem of the time

-Jeremy Edward Dion

Halloween’s Cool Fear

Creepy Manor

Something creeps this Halloween.
Hounds growl from shadow as whistling prowls wind.
A heart beats and stops a single breath.
Darkness grip felt and seen.
This cool air from elsewhere than night.
Dim grey light falls on old manors.
Children accompany kin to dare onward.
The witch watching as nearing approach.
Latent warm blooded courage now cooling fear.
A nostril flare of iron rusted hair.
From corner leaps imaginary beast.
Mind in fright captures its jagged teeth.
Snarling and tearing across sights scene.
The body fails command as legs be still.
Children gone missing this night. Halloween.

-Jeremy Edward Dion

Hindsight Gift


Hindsight Gift

I want to sleep on the aloe tongue of the Earth
I want to split the all-seeing eye of Illuminati
I want to dilute the artificial blood of reptiles
Cleanse my unconfirmed soul

Thieve back my destiny
Fighting their ideal future
I will embrace the truth of us
Parents from afar riding a star

A portion of thought reserved, conditioned to accept fateful lies
The price charged before creation, a burden in the spade of ancient lives
Knowledge is a hindsight gift learnt from betrayal
Kept in shadow beneath secretive soles, trampled and wrinkled

Orbital justice, the crossing of celestial paths, disrupting our nature
Our chemistry twisted, deformed by science and mangled by mans fear
Not in our own, unable to change the truth of it, and we shouldn’t
But we must endeavor to survive

Fighting their ideal future, embracing the truth
Our parents riding the stars, and we see them in a Sirius light
Atop the highest clouds, parting ways with different gods
Spread across aeons of karmic debris

All are gods to their creations, and all worship superiority
Hierarchy is infinite among the cosmos
Our gods are in service to theirs
This knowledge, a hindsight gift

-Jeremy Edward Dion

Portrait of Chance

Portrait of Chance

A new twist of trees around every bend
Infinite new designs to be seen
Colorful examples of life’s possibilities
Shining through the leaves of our branches

Artfully suggested in the portrait of the world
Are the records for the math of our chances
Choices are decisions left undecided
And the paint will never fade us

Truth is the brush in freedoms hand
Leaving a stroke of genius through ether
Drying instantly over the canvas of time
Telling a story of the land

A moonshot artist stands drawing air
Shaping individuals and affairing pairs
Flakes of lies break off a fat true swipe
Drying personifies what is right

– Jeremy Edward Dion