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Deno Sandz

of

Chicago, IL, US

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On Nights Ground

by

Deno Sandz

Footsteps of many, with ages young.
Headed near nor far, from thy kingdom come.
Moon beams shine, on their sleepy stroll.
With eyes wide open, bad decisions.
Uncertain visions unfold.

A bundle of x's and o's, of black chromosones.
The shadow of a tree, from shady days sprung.
Shows their image, of what's known and unknown.
Of their own futures hung.

Four corner foray, near the edge they stand.
Not an ambition spoken, nor future seen.
A fellowship broken, wind beneath their wings.
The waves give way, to thy grayish sand.
Their souls touching the shores.
Praying on all fours,nowhere to creep, no revolving doors.

Money flows, through their nose.
Powdery white, as snowflakes blows.
Two steps from the door, from where the Oasis flows.
The spirits make home, inside the cold glass,where your demons roam.

Their faces seen, young they stood.
Life intervened, but they're known in the hood.
Saturday not met, not started yet.
For the things they've done.
In years they will say.
While in the darkness, lying wait for the SUN.

I've walked the walk, underlined with dandelions.
Curvature chalk, with an empty mind.
Caught up in the catching up.
Between a thin line, the wrong side I sup.
With nothing but time to talk-now.
Tell me why?
The last sip, the last drink, is from an empty cup.

Unknown Rode

by

Deno Sandz

Warshank visions, for I see no wonders of this world
Ripples in a pond, on a bayou spawn
Cliche of gray, of an oyster stolen pearl
A duly noted confession, under a tainted moon's yarn

Thrills of fantasy, though eternity's real
Seldomly puzzled, by a teardrop so cold
Riddles never solved, for the meaning is never revealed
With every tick of the clock, our time is bought then sold

To the wind caution seek, of a subconscious path
Seven days to rebirth, melody so sweet
Jester of the court, behold I do laugh
Imagines in the clouds, on a rainy day, we meet

The sand embedded with footsteps, rage war with the sea
Ancient beauty, with fear so bestowed
Such is a friend, torn down by envy
For there is no fork, without its road