******Love And Other States Of Madness - vol 1*******
Odysseus's Rage
By my hand Troy was freed,
It was I riding the hollowed wooden
Horse that slaughtered a sleeping kingdom.
Trapped in darkest cave by giant one eyed-beast
I do not rest content to be the fodder of someone else's appetite,
My freedom's desire burns my way to open ground.
Bound to my mast holding strong my course
I have passed the deadly Sirens' Songs
And ended those witches' allurement of mere mortal hearts.
Though I fall asleep at my ship's helm and the tempests rage
They blow my vessel from my approaching homeland
I cry to the heavens for a return to you.
I would cheat the gods their due, to rest within your domestic felicity
I would summon the cleverest words spoken on these hallowed grounds
To woo you back to this heart's battle.
What a sad vexation to choose a long life
Of passionless obscurity and retirement over
A fraction of same spent in blazing glory.
The question needs no answer for it is predestined.
Our hearts cannot escape
The new fortune placed before them.
The flame must burn its full life span,
Attempt to overt your eyes from your heart's hunger
And risk forever blindness to your soul's passion.
The Pantheon Cannot Crumble
I asked you to sit with me
Be a god upon a throne.
In your eyes I see the heavens expanse double.
You run in fear afraid of the unknown.
How could you deserve such a seat?
How dare you to attempt such lofty ambition?
Since your birth a veil of deceit
Has settled over your eyes
Cheating you of your right sight.
Your's is a journey of greater surety.
A confidence of steps yet to be taken
I ask you to sit WITH me.
Take your rightful place Apollo.
Reasonable Hand-drawn Facsimile
Ah the many lips I've kissed full or thin,
soft or firm flesh pink;
possible pathways to dissipate loneliness.
Ah the many eyes in which I have gazed,
brown, green, blue orbs;
corporeal crystal balls to glimpse a possible future
Ah the many locks of hair these hands have run through,
black, brown, blond strands of desire,
connections to my hearts plea for release.
Ah the many bodies my flesh has pressed,
soft and firm, supple warm, hard and wet,
incarnations animal yearning for completion.
Ah the many parts of passion,
connecting in moments of breathless wonder.
Hours spent in little death's arms,
attempting to capture a life's full promise.
All folly's vain attempt to reconstruct
your lips, your hair, eyes and body,
to play false parts in my passion play
that even crucifixion cannot transform.
Closing Prayer
At day's death
I find myself reliving
Moments of triumph
And tragedy (of my own hand's scripting)
My awareness examine done in fair faith.
The good recalled and gratefully given praise.
The bad forced forward for atonement.
The track traced for a tomorrow filled with future fame.
All complete,
One thing remains,
My nightly prayer,
The mantra of your name.
Looking At A Boy
In a restaurant I sit,
writing yet another dirge to love forsaken.
Across a table a promise sits.
All lean and taunt waiting with a cat's spring.
Full with potential passion and pleasant bearing.
Mine is not the only head his continence turns.
But mine his gaze returned.
Sex on his sleeve inviting.
All angles carved by some maestros hand.
Pointed nose, square jaw, red lips, black eyes.
A busted beacon calling me to desires end.
Is he the one to wean this wistful heart?
Is it here a new journey may find first foot?
Now if only he was you.
Self-imposed Exile
Ah the exquisite pain of your memory
shrouding my faint heart.
How I pine the days,
delightedly hoping for any slight sign,
that your day was interrupted,
with a passing thought,
to some distant exchange.
Maybe not my name nor even my face,
but maybe a certain wind or smell,
or just some ethereal unknown
that causes your foot to pause for a brief second,
you stop,
trying to decipher the paces slowing.
It might have been me?
Oh how I languish in this four chambered prison,
though the chains have been broken.
Call the jailer! Shackle me once more!
Cursed to the desert,
I wander over dunes.
No sight fixed on a horizon,
No oasis prayed for.
Each sand grain trod upon with delight.
Each a piercing echo of your name.
Singing a cacophony,
My soul's song.
Ah sweet exile!
Trapped in your memory my heart is forever home.
What's The Big Deal?
You did not give me anything my hands had not already held.
You did not say anything my ears had not already heard.
You did not show me anything my eyes had not already seen.
You did not touch me anywhere I had not already felt a caress.
You did not stir anything that has not already been moved.
I search for your contribution I cannot count.
So then why do I feel I have lost the treasure of a king?
Puck's Poison's
My eyes see colours that were once not there.
My ears hear sounds that were never so clear.
My tongue tastes flavours that use to be bland.
My nose smells scents that flowers can't command.
My skin feels sensations that bombard and confuse.
Tell me sweet fairy what toxins did you use?
Loser
Chasing some uncatchable star.
Clinging to a hope that may never be fulfilled.
See!! You used the word may.
Preposterously you pursue,
What you do not have.
Onward Sisyphus your rock awaits.
Keep fooling yourself with delusions,
Of some cosmic god granting your mortal wish,
For release from the torture your hand inflicted.
How pathetic.
My Sweet Carrion
Oh how you woo me with your portal fragrance.
Luring me forward through a gate of no return.
Your name,
my love and desires expression complete.
What fever you inspire,
Burning my flesh from my frame,
Exposing my soul to its true identity.
Your embrace consumes my hearts longing,
Trapped within the slow decay of time.
Carrion come.
I abandon all to thee,
for lost affection diminishes all other purposes,
save the want of your touch.
Heart Pirate
you are the ship of forever bounty,
sailing between my want and need
I beg you to drop anchor.
but alas you sail on
with but a melancholy wave
in some vague direction
your compass predestined
not to stop at my bearings
I remain on my treasured shore
imprisoned with your memory.
And not even good fortune's blade
can cut me loose from the manacles of sorrow.
I have not the strength to gaze upon the horizon.
I dare not invite another vessel to take your place,
For the water broken, can never be reformed as it once was.
And yet I dare not throw myself into the frigid depths to end
this bleak night.
For then your bitter sweet memory would be erased.
Leaving nothing.
Reflecting On Your Death
I wish it was some rogues blade flung,
Or gun trigger pulled,
Or some raging weather systems clashing,
Or natural unseen disaster passing,
Or some freak accident with a household appliance,
Or a car recklessly steered over a cliff,
Or some rare disease that infected your frame,
Or...
But alas it was none of these that took you from me.
Nothing easy to accept like the turning of a knife.
For it was but the turning of a phrase - "I can't do this."
My Resume
First in line for your affections?
I was not.
Your happiness first to fulfill?
I was not.
The ability to promise all the same?
I cannot.
To offer a guarantee for life?
I cannot.
To take away all your pain?
I could not.
To promise not to cause you that pain?
I could not.
Ask you to blindly follow?
I will not.
Ask you to lead?
I will not.
Try to daily love?
I will.
Try to daily inspire?
I can.
Try to daily challenge?
I could.
Walk along side you?
I will.
Smelly Man On A Bus
He sits next to me.
His teeth crooked with decay,
He smiles at me shamelessly,
Exposing the barbed enamel.
His breath passes over the rot,
Attacking my flared nostrils.
I pretended to sneeze to cover my nose.
His hair matted from days of un-wash,
Grass and grime cling to each follicle .
In laughter his head bobs and it grazes my face.
I pretend to scratch to wipe away the offence.
His hands gnarled and bruised.
Skin bloodies and torn from gray-brown nails.
He extends his hand to shake.
I pretend to drop my book to escape the touch.
He rings the bell and descends the steps,
Turns with a big grin and a wave for me.
I turn to the person across and answer a question unasked.
I ring the bell and descend the steps.
I touch the handle he last felt.
As I feel his dirt I think to myself,
How fortunate he is.
His decay is of the body,
Mine is of the soul.
Kidnapped
So friendly you entered,
All charm and chuckles,
Gained my trust,
Opened me up,
with your reticent smile.
Then you took my heart,
While I was at play,
In your field unaware,
Of loves deception.
You offer no note,
Of ransom to pay,
For the return,
Of my frightened child.
I fear this crime go unsolved and
I will be missing forever.
Winning Is Not Important?
I no better a god than he.
He no worse a demon than I.
We are but two spirits,
In quest of you.
But what deity blessed such rancid platitude
First come first served.
Denying me victor's laurels,
Cursing me to second.
Which in this two man race means
I lose.
What heavens demand rearranging,
For you to see that just maybe
First path is not always last path?
Damn your martyrdom to Hades' fires.
What treacherous disciple of love gouged your eyes,
Leaving you blindly following
A faith no longer valid?
Goodbye to a Lover
I try to find a bad memory of you and me,
and though I scour the pages of us,
there is none to be found,
only beauty's face remains.
Through the pain of good-bye
my heart continues its wistful journey.
I embrace this momentary ache
for it was born out of our love's innocence.
As time plays her soothing role
the sorrow shall turn to fond remembrances.
I will be the phoenix rising out of our ashes,
Reborn in passion to fly once more.
After the cleansing rain of tears,
a `bow of promise will be painted,
making a covenant with my heart
that love will continue to show itself.
For it was a rich palette of colours,
from your brushes filling my sky,
that let my soul sail upon this ocean,
giving me strength to believe in love's purity.
As the years pass the stars do attest,
we will both gaze from different shores,
upon the same sea knowing,
that together we once felt the cool salve
of its depths in each others arms.
Goodbye lover.
******************************************************************
******Love And Other States Of Madness - vol 2*******
THE (greatest) (bad) Love Song – No Words Can
+ What is this (love)…?
this burning ember
that swelters summer souls
A fired flame
Ablaze in raging water currents
That consumes consciousness
Blistered burns soothed with toxic chyme
Wounds opened and healed
In one breathe of
Heated calming elixir
All things joined in one
Expression of fertility spent
Death dies to darkness
Swallowed in bathed
Rays of sustained hope
What is this (love)…?
Contradictions all
A Kandinsky whirling back and front
Making sense out of abstract order
A chaos of clutched opened embraces
What is this (love)…?
Rain falling in sunshine
Filling empty holes
With instances of eternity
Creating clouds of blinding comfort
Amidst the down of angel’s wings
Subtle emanations of
Clanging gongs between
The notes of unheard music
Mania in stillness trance
Beating a vibrato frequency
Of synced hearts
All meaning insignificant
Save
The cholera of beloved desire
What is this (love)…?
The bleating sombre night
Of joyous silence
Ringing solemn symphonies
Requiems for phoenix hearts
This tumour mass
Reveals to be
The four chambered beating question
That answers all with healing poison
Enough venom to fever pitch
But not destroy (almost)
The price of peace paid
Never paid
Chased away and back
Moving from selfish to selfless
And then back again
What is this (love)…?
Elusive minute shadows
Cast in desert sands
From noonday suns
Scorching flesh willingly lain bare
What is this (love)…?
An Escher question
Turning back on its reflected self
Where is the beginning of the maze,
The unquestionable question answered
Unanswerably questioned.
Pleasant surprise…
…I still remember chatting with you on the boat…
…on the lake…
… watching …
… talking …
… the cityscape all aglow igniting the night …
… life liberty and the pursuit of happiness …
… both of us spewing our personal …
… bull shit philosophies …
… that somehow convince us that we are living …
… a reality …
… a lie …
… a life …
… a day that will hopefully without choice flow into another
… maybe arms …
… maybe just maybe …
… sorry there’s my bus …
Nice bumping into you again!
Deep breathing -
Sucking up delicious scented mist of maples autumn vapor
Clutching the crisp morning chill of new born winter snow
Soaking in the first fragrant scents of virgin spring flowers
II.
Lungs expand - remembering
Sucking up delicious scented mist of maples autumn vapor
Nostrils flare to warm the air
Lungs expand - remembering
Clutching the crisp morning chill of new born winter snow
Nostrils flare to warm the air
Lungs expand - remembering
Soaking in the first fragrant scents of virgin spring flowers
Nostrils flare to warm the air
Lungs expand -
no scented mist, crisp chill, nor fragrant scent
Nostrils flare to Water
Whalesong
Nuzzled in his neck I feel a pulse;
Beating against my cheek;
Sounding, feeling familiar.
Diving through oceans, bubbling utterances,
Hoping someone will hear my whale song.
Poets, Priests, Prophets; all solicitous.
Speaking truths, forever opaque.
None to be found, heard or seen; only the pulse,
And the whale song.
I nuzzle in his neck Humming into the deep.
In the darkness of night and day…
naked, squinting,
i peer into my heart of darkness,
it lurches forth to engulf me,
i lunge ahead, deeper.
the horror unable to devour,
SHATTERS.
beyond in a hidden cavern
a burning ember,
catches my gasping breath,
a blazing touch
maybe a beacon home.
di-'pre-sh&n, dE-
Prologue
I can feel it
Lurking at the edges
Just out of reach
Ready to pounce
Upon my peace
AGAIN
The slow trickle
Of blood red
Across the white times
How many cuts
Before one too much?
Burnt out lamps
Running low on bulbs
Looking at empty sockets
Are there enough watts
To blanket out the darkness?
Story
How many days?
How many hours?
How many seconds?
How many years?
How many months?
How many weeks?
How many days?
How many hours?
How many minutes?
How many seconds?
Denouement
How many moments have been lost?
Never to be recouped
Lamented now
Paid with tomorrows
All time –
Owned
by living death.
A slow decline
Measured
With blurred pendulums swaying
Irregular
Years are months
Months are weeks
Weeks are days
Days are hours
Hours are minutes
Minutes are seconds
Hours, years, seconds,
Months, weeks, hours,
Days
Epilogue
All time
Slow decline
Blurred
Death.
Sunday Morning Love Song
I watch you
Sleeping
Dark blue sheet
Draped
Across your hip
My hand plays
With streaming rays
Of morning sun
Creeping through blinds
Dancing
Joyously on
Your brown flesh
Tempting
My hand
Falling
To desire
Upon you
You breathe
In Deep
The long exhale
Across my face
The moist warmth
Tickles
My nostrils fill
Your scent
Intoxicates
I want to
Crawl inside
Your space
In mine
To mingle
Our skin
Blood heats blood
In
Time held still
Let me
Fall
Now
Forever in this
Dream
Of us
Sleep my prince
A deserved rest
For you are
My waking
Dream
Fulfilled
Remember?
Young men boated capped and gunned
chasing a spooned noble ideal
euphoria wears under water soaked feet,
gray translucent skin falling away...
torn limbs dismember ideals
leaving base reality.
Young women gathered at docks
smiling to a played adolescent pride,
waving slow through fears of widowhood,
somber still days falling away...
scratched notes of fallen neighbors
removes plumed mass ego.
Young children running gardens
telling tales of fathers' valor
miniature reenactments of pressed heroics,
summer days yet to fall away...
medals received with flag draped box
confuses bravery's ploy.
Old men smoking cigars
trumping the perpetual cause
debating tantamount strategies and treaties
knowing days will fall away...
no memory of past blood, widows, or fathers gone
a world fatigued marches on
Self-inflicted Blindness
Do you know what I look like?
In the dark of night,
no lights,
deep inside?
Are you so obsessed trying
to catch your own reflection
in my eyes,
you have no sight of me?
Do you see my dreams
or only how I am a means to yours?
Do you feel my fears
Or only when they speak to yours?
Do you know you are blind?
The Big Fright
Once did children, thrilled to the core,
with trembling hand open closet door,
a check to see if ghouls and ghosts did lurk;
Once did children with heart pounding,
dangled head over side of bed,
to search out red eyed beasts amidst the murk;
Once did children fall themselves off to sleep
with tales of conquest,
and the good kingdom keep.
Now all grow'd with concerns of others,
they simply crawl under covers,
full of fatigue and lacking intrigue,
at the possibility of things that go bump in the night;
and in their sleepless plight,
wonder why things are oft not quite right.
Odysseus's Rage
By my hand Troy was freed,
It was I riding the hollowed wooden
Horse that slaughtered a sleeping kingdom.
Trapped in darkest cave by giant one eyed-beast
I do not rest content to be the fodder of someone else's appetite,
My freedom's desire burns my way to open ground.
Bound to my mast holding strong my course
I have passed the deadly Sirens' Songs
And ended those witches' allurement of mere mortal hearts.
Though I fall asleep at my ship's helm and the tempests rage
They blow my vessel from my approaching homeland
I cry to the heavens for a return to you.
I would cheat the gods their due, to rest within your domestic felicity
I would summon the cleverest words spoken on these hallowed grounds
To woo you back to this heart's battle.
What a sad vexation to choose a long life
Of passionless obscurity and retirement over
A fraction of same spent in blazing glory.
The question needs no answer for it is predestined.
Our hearts cannot escape
The new fortune placed before them.
The flame must burn its full life span,
Attempt to overt your eyes from your heart's hunger
And risk forever blindness to your soul's passion.
The Pantheon Cannot Crumble
I asked you to sit with me
Be a god upon a throne.
In your eyes I see the heavens expanse double.
You run in fear afraid of the unknown.
How could you deserve such a seat?
How dare you to attempt such lofty ambition?
Since your birth a veil of deceit
Has settled over your eyes
Cheating you of your right sight.
Your's is a journey of greater surety.
A confidence of steps yet to be taken
I ask you to sit WITH me.
Take your rightful place Apollo.
Reasonable Hand-drawn Facsimile
Ah the many lips I've kissed full or thin,
soft or firm flesh pink;
possible pathways to dissipate loneliness.
Ah the many eyes in which I have gazed,
brown, green, blue orbs;
corporeal crystal balls to glimpse a possible future
Ah the many locks of hair these hands have run through,
black, brown, blond strands of desire,
connections to my hearts plea for release.
Ah the many bodies my flesh has pressed,
soft and firm, supple warm, hard and wet,
incarnations animal yearning for completion.
Ah the many parts of passion,
connecting in moments of breathless wonder.
Hours spent in little death's arms,
attempting to capture a life's full promise.
All folly's vain attempt to reconstruct
your lips, your hair, eyes and body,
to play false parts in my passion play
that even crucifixion cannot transform.
Closing Prayer
At day's death
I find myself reliving
Moments of triumph
And tragedy (of my own hand's scripting)
My awareness examine done in fair faith.
The good recalled and gratefully given praise.
The bad forced forward for atonement.
The track traced for a tomorrow filled with future fame.
All complete,
One thing remains,
My nightly prayer,
The mantra of your name.
Looking At A Boy
In a restaurant I sit,
writing yet another dirge to love forsaken.
Across a table a promise sits.
All lean and taunt waiting with a cat's spring.
Full with potential passion and pleasant bearing.
Mine is not the only head his continence turns.
But mine his gaze returned.
Sex on his sleeve inviting.
All angles carved by some maestros hand.
Pointed nose, square jaw, red lips, black eyes.
A busted beacon calling me to desires end.
Is he the one to wean this wistful heart?
Is it here a new journey may find first foot?
Now if only he was you.
Self-imposed Exile
Ah the exquisite pain of your memory
shrouding my faint heart.
How I pine the days,
delightedly hoping for any slight sign,
that your day was interrupted,
with a passing thought,
to some distant exchange.
Maybe not my name nor even my face,
but maybe a certain wind or smell,
or just some ethereal unknown
that causes your foot to pause for a brief second,
you stop,
trying to decipher the paces slowing.
It might have been me?
Oh how I languish in this four chambered prison,
though the chains have been broken.
Call the jailer! Shackle me once more!
Cursed to the desert,
I wander over dunes.
No sight fixed on a horizon,
No oasis prayed for.
Each sand grain trod upon with delight.
Each a piercing echo of your name.
Singing a cacophony,
My soul's song.
Ah sweet exile!
Trapped in your memory my heart is forever home.
What's The Big Deal?
You did not give me anything my hands had not already held.
You did not say anything my ears had not already heard.
You did not show me anything my eyes had not already seen.
You did not touch me anywhere I had not already felt a caress.
You did not stir anything that has not already been moved.
I search for your contribution I cannot count.
So then why do I feel I have lost the treasure of a king?
Puck's Poison's
My eyes see colours that were once not there.
My ears hear sounds that were never so clear.
My tongue tastes flavours that use to be bland.
My nose smells scents that flowers can't command.
My skin feels sensations that bombard and confuse.
Tell me sweet fairy what toxins did you use?
Loser
Chasing some uncatchable star.
Clinging to a hope that may never be fulfilled.
See!! You used the word may.
Preposterously you pursue,
What you do not have.
Onward Sisyphus your rock awaits.
Keep fooling yourself with delusions,
Of some cosmic god granting your mortal wish,
For release from the torture your hand inflicted.
How pathetic.
My Sweet Carrion
Oh how you woo me with your portal fragrance.
Luring me forward through a gate of no return.
Your name,
my love and desires expression complete.
What fever you inspire,
Burning my flesh from my frame,
Exposing my soul to its true identity.
Your embrace consumes my hearts longing,
Trapped within the slow decay of time.
Carrion come.
I abandon all to thee,
for lost affection diminishes all other purposes,
save the want of your touch.
Heart Pirate
you are the ship of forever bounty,
sailing between my want and need
I beg you to drop anchor.
but alas you sail on
with but a melancholy wave
in some vague direction
your compass predestined
not to stop at my bearings
I remain on my treasured shore
imprisoned with your memory.
And not even good fortune's blade
can cut me loose from the manacles of sorrow.
I have not the strength to gaze upon the horizon.
I dare not invite another vessel to take your place,
For the water broken, can never be reformed as it once was.
And yet I dare not throw myself into the frigid depths to end
this bleak night.
For then your bitter sweet memory would be erased.
Leaving nothing.
Reflecting On Your Death
I wish it was some rogues blade flung,
Or gun trigger pulled,
Or some raging weather systems clashing,
Or natural unseen disaster passing,
Or some freak accident with a household appliance,
Or a car recklessly steered over a cliff,
Or some rare disease that infected your frame,
Or...
But alas it was none of these that took you from me.
Nothing easy to accept like the turning of a knife.
For it was but the turning of a phrase - "I can't do this."
My Resume
First in line for your affections?
I was not.
Your happiness first to fulfill?
I was not.
The ability to promise all the same?
I cannot.
To offer a guarantee for life?
I cannot.
To take away all your pain?
I could not.
To promise not to cause you that pain?
I could not.
Ask you to blindly follow?
I will not.
Ask you to lead?
I will not.
Try to daily love?
I will.
Try to daily inspire?
I can.
Try to daily challenge?
I could.
Walk along side you?
I will.
Smelly Man On A Bus
He sits next to me.
His teeth crooked with decay,
He smiles at me shamelessly,
Exposing the barbed enamel.
His breath passes over the rot,
Attacking my flared nostrils.
I pretended to sneeze to cover my nose.
His hair matted from days of un-wash,
Grass and grime cling to each follicle .
In laughter his head bobs and it grazes my face.
I pretend to scratch to wipe away the offence.
His hands gnarled and bruised.
Skin bloodies and torn from gray-brown nails.
He extends his hand to shake.
I pretend to drop my book to escape the touch.
He rings the bell and descends the steps,
Turns with a big grin and a wave for me.
I turn to the person across and answer a question unasked.
I ring the bell and descend the steps.
I touch the handle he last felt.
As I feel his dirt I think to myself,
How fortunate he is.
His decay is of the body,
Mine is of the soul.
Kidnapped
So friendly you entered,
All charm and chuckles,
Gained my trust,
Opened me up,
with your reticent smile.
Then you took my heart,
While I was at play,
In your field unaware,
Of loves deception.
You offer no note,
Of ransom to pay,
For the return,
Of my frightened child.
I fear this crime go unsolved and
I will be missing forever.
Winning Is Not Important?
I no better a god than he.
He no worse a demon than I.
We are but two spirits,
In quest of you.
But what deity blessed such rancid platitude
First come first served.
Denying me victor's laurels,
Cursing me to second.
Which in this two man race means
I lose.
What heavens demand rearranging,
For you to see that just maybe
First path is not always last path?
Damn your martyrdom to Hades' fires.
What treacherous disciple of love gouged your eyes,
Leaving you blindly following
A faith no longer valid?
Goodbye to a Lover
I try to find a bad memory of you and me,
and though I scour the pages of us,
there is none to be found,
only beauty's face remains.
Through the pain of good-bye
my heart continues its wistful journey.
I embrace this momentary ache
for it was born out of our love's innocence.
As time plays her soothing role
the sorrow shall turn to fond remembrances.
I will be the phoenix rising out of our ashes,
Reborn in passion to fly once more.
After the cleansing rain of tears,
a `bow of promise will be painted,
making a covenant with my heart
that love will continue to show itself.
For it was a rich palette of colours,
from your brushes filling my sky,
that let my soul sail upon this ocean,
giving me strength to believe in love's purity.
As the years pass the stars do attest,
we will both gaze from different shores,
upon the same sea knowing,
that together we once felt the cool salve
of its depths in each others arms.
Goodbye lover.
******************************************************************
******Love And Other States Of Madness - vol 2*******
THE (greatest) (bad) Love Song – No Words Can
+ What is this (love)…?
this burning ember
that swelters summer souls
A fired flame
Ablaze in raging water currents
That consumes consciousness
Blistered burns soothed with toxic chyme
Wounds opened and healed
In one breathe of
Heated calming elixir
All things joined in one
Expression of fertility spent
Death dies to darkness
Swallowed in bathed
Rays of sustained hope
What is this (love)…?
Contradictions all
A Kandinsky whirling back and front
Making sense out of abstract order
A chaos of clutched opened embraces
What is this (love)…?
Rain falling in sunshine
Filling empty holes
With instances of eternity
Creating clouds of blinding comfort
Amidst the down of angel’s wings
Subtle emanations of
Clanging gongs between
The notes of unheard music
Mania in stillness trance
Beating a vibrato frequency
Of synced hearts
All meaning insignificant
Save
The cholera of beloved desire
What is this (love)…?
The bleating sombre night
Of joyous silence
Ringing solemn symphonies
Requiems for phoenix hearts
This tumour mass
Reveals to be
The four chambered beating question
That answers all with healing poison
Enough venom to fever pitch
But not destroy (almost)
The price of peace paid
Never paid
Chased away and back
Moving from selfish to selfless
And then back again
What is this (love)…?
Elusive minute shadows
Cast in desert sands
From noonday suns
Scorching flesh willingly lain bare
What is this (love)…?
An Escher question
Turning back on its reflected self
Where is the beginning of the maze,
The unquestionable question answered
Unanswerably questioned.
Pleasant surprise…
…I still remember chatting with you on the boat…
…on the lake…
… watching …
… talking …
… the cityscape all aglow igniting the night …
… life liberty and the pursuit of happiness …
… both of us spewing our personal …
… bull shit philosophies …
… that somehow convince us that we are living …
… a reality …
… a lie …
… a life …
… a day that will hopefully without choice flow into another
… maybe arms …
… maybe just maybe …
… sorry there’s my bus …
Nice bumping into you again!
Deep breathing -
Sucking up delicious scented mist of maples autumn vapor
Clutching the crisp morning chill of new born winter snow
Soaking in the first fragrant scents of virgin spring flowers
II.
Lungs expand - remembering
Sucking up delicious scented mist of maples autumn vapor
Nostrils flare to warm the air
Lungs expand - remembering
Clutching the crisp morning chill of new born winter snow
Nostrils flare to warm the air
Lungs expand - remembering
Soaking in the first fragrant scents of virgin spring flowers
Nostrils flare to warm the air
Lungs expand -
no scented mist, crisp chill, nor fragrant scent
Nostrils flare to Water
Whalesong
Nuzzled in his neck I feel a pulse;
Beating against my cheek;
Sounding, feeling familiar.
Diving through oceans, bubbling utterances,
Hoping someone will hear my whale song.
Poets, Priests, Prophets; all solicitous.
Speaking truths, forever opaque.
None to be found, heard or seen; only the pulse,
And the whale song.
I nuzzle in his neck Humming into the deep.
In the darkness of night and day…
naked, squinting,
i peer into my heart of darkness,
it lurches forth to engulf me,
i lunge ahead, deeper.
the horror unable to devour,
SHATTERS.
beyond in a hidden cavern
a burning ember,
catches my gasping breath,
a blazing touch
maybe a beacon home.
di-'pre-sh&n, dE-
Prologue
I can feel it
Lurking at the edges
Just out of reach
Ready to pounce
Upon my peace
AGAIN
The slow trickle
Of blood red
Across the white times
How many cuts
Before one too much?
Burnt out lamps
Running low on bulbs
Looking at empty sockets
Are there enough watts
To blanket out the darkness?
Story
How many days?
How many hours?
How many seconds?
How many years?
How many months?
How many weeks?
How many days?
How many hours?
How many minutes?
How many seconds?
Denouement
How many moments have been lost?
Never to be recouped
Lamented now
Paid with tomorrows
All time –
Owned
by living death.
A slow decline
Measured
With blurred pendulums swaying
Irregular
Years are months
Months are weeks
Weeks are days
Days are hours
Hours are minutes
Minutes are seconds
Hours, years, seconds,
Months, weeks, hours,
Days
Epilogue
All time
Slow decline
Blurred
Death.
Sunday Morning Love Song
I watch you
Sleeping
Dark blue sheet
Draped
Across your hip
My hand plays
With streaming rays
Of morning sun
Creeping through blinds
Dancing
Joyously on
Your brown flesh
Tempting
My hand
Falling
To desire
Upon you
You breathe
In Deep
The long exhale
Across my face
The moist warmth
Tickles
My nostrils fill
Your scent
Intoxicates
I want to
Crawl inside
Your space
In mine
To mingle
Our skin
Blood heats blood
In
Time held still
Let me
Fall
Now
Forever in this
Dream
Of us
Sleep my prince
A deserved rest
For you are
My waking
Dream
Fulfilled
Remember?
Young men boated capped and gunned
chasing a spooned noble ideal
euphoria wears under water soaked feet,
gray translucent skin falling away...
torn limbs dismember ideals
leaving base reality.
Young women gathered at docks
smiling to a played adolescent pride,
waving slow through fears of widowhood,
somber still days falling away...
scratched notes of fallen neighbors
removes plumed mass ego.
Young children running gardens
telling tales of fathers' valor
miniature reenactments of pressed heroics,
summer days yet to fall away...
medals received with flag draped box
confuses bravery's ploy.
Old men smoking cigars
trumping the perpetual cause
debating tantamount strategies and treaties
knowing days will fall away...
no memory of past blood, widows, or fathers gone
a world fatigued marches on
Self-inflicted Blindness
Do you know what I look like?
In the dark of night,
no lights,
deep inside?
Are you so obsessed trying
to catch your own reflection
in my eyes,
you have no sight of me?
Do you see my dreams
or only how I am a means to yours?
Do you feel my fears
Or only when they speak to yours?
Do you know you are blind?
The Big Fright
Once did children, thrilled to the core,
with trembling hand open closet door,
a check to see if ghouls and ghosts did lurk;
Once did children with heart pounding,
dangled head over side of bed,
to search out red eyed beasts amidst the murk;
Once did children fall themselves off to sleep
with tales of conquest,
and the good kingdom keep.
Now all grow'd with concerns of others,
they simply crawl under covers,
full of fatigue and lacking intrigue,
at the possibility of things that go bump in the night;
and in their sleepless plight,
wonder why things are oft not quite right.
