A dot of red
like earth springs
naturally
releasing
from beneath
those holy
waters that
haunt and run
our bodies
pricking thumb
let off all
the worries
rivers and
oasis clear
the sick realm
that plagues me.

I miss thee, I hath to admit
I want to witness again thy stunning smile so sweet
And how th' sun always kindly, and generously, touchest thy dark hair
Then shalt thou breakest into endless jokes and childish wit
'Fore rising a tender smile, as we greet each other by th' circular stairs.

I bet thou art still remarkable and stupendous as usual
Thou whom I'th known since last grey fall
By th' ponderous sleeping lake; in th' midst of a burly night;
Thou stared through me with a pair of unfathomable eyes;
as though thou couldst makest everything in my heart-better and right;
and yon, yon colourlessness of th' night, shinest so beautifully as butterflies.
Thou wert, indeedst, not th' paleness I had dreamed,
thou wert not bleak, thou wert not mean.
Thou still shined brightly though chilled and dimmed,
thou wert damp, but sunny-just like th' nearby shuffling trances
to which I had never been.
At times thou canst seem lazy, ah-but thou'rt indeedst not!
As just I do, thou liveth thy life from dot to dot,
thou leapest from time to time in my story,
thou, though far away, somehow always seem near,
and be sitting here idly with me and my poetry.
Thou might be close not to my ears,
but I canst listenest to thee; as thou eat and pray,
and as thou waketh, to every single inevitable day.
T'is life, which canst somehow be bitter,
shalt at times corruptest thy happiness and thy laughter;
wringing thee into false devotion and meanness,
but be sure, my love, t'at I shalt be thy cure;
I shalt be thy unhealed passion and all-new tenderness.
I shalt be thy first salvation, honesty and satiation;
I shalt be a scarf t'at giveth thee warmth, and thy hated mediation;
hated and dejected by t'is dreadful world, my love,
t'is world which knowest not t'at love is everything above.
And I shalt be thy heaven, and holiness,
and thy greenest grass when it is too dark,
as t'is world hurts and drivest away from frankness;
and within its grim sacrifice, lettest go of its single spark.
Ah, thee, thy innocence is just like my own soul,
but it is what makest thee divine as gold;
thou art ever pure, and incessantly pure,
and thy jokes and ventures and preachings flawless and true.
And in t'is weary life-which is sometimes faultless but unsure,
thou always makest me feel honoured;
makest me feel brand new.

Ah, Kozarev, thou art my immortal twin star,
and thy lips my sophisticated fragrant moon;
thou art my umbrella in yon idyllic heaven afar,
fade away not, but thou drifted away too soon!
My love, but sketchest again our undying night,
t'is time with a new bosom of light,
and giveth me comfort within which,
and flinch no more, for I shalt not flinch.
Thy genuinity is my nature,
thy childishness is my cure;
for t'ere are no more lips as naive as thine,
though t'ey oftentimes seemest spotless,
and t'eir toughness, seemest fine.

Ah, Kozzie, only fate t'at shalt makest out paths eventually align;
fate who hath sent me sweet prophecies, and a truthful bold sign.
Let me be thy grace, and thy sole, immortal lady;
let me be such craze, so t'at thou shalt always be with me.
I shalt be thy doll, and thy very own addict;
I shalt nursest, and cherishest thee every day of the week.
And joy, and its miraculous delight shalt be ours alone,
fallen fast asleep by night, and renewed by upcoming morns.
Together shalt we teasest every passing minute and hour;
and treatest all 'em nicely, just like how we deemeth t'at laugh, of ours.
And when nightfall greetest, sleep, my love, sleep;
thy red, innocent cheeks shalt I kiss; thy greatest dreams shalt I keep.

Kozarev, and fliest me again to th' melancholy Sofia,
wherein our peace shalt dwellest, and be cheered and alive.
But let me first fetch my old, talkative umbrella;
for Sofia shalt be full of rain; but one t'at makest it safe, and thrive.
Ah, Sofia, our little haven like yon nearby oak chatroom,
old as it is, but still-tenderer t'an t'is ever lonely gloom;
I bet Sofia is still warmer t'an t'is fraudulent war of my heart,
though it is, of now, far and sat by a land wholly apart.
Oh, Sofia, in which our love shalt be adequate, but still-inadequate,
for our love is more benign, ye' at times-more capricious t'an fate.
And it is raw, but ripe, like a mature cherry;
it hath neither tears, nor hate, nor brave worry!
Ah, my love; but again fly me, fly me, t'ere-
for cannot I waitest to live my life with thee;
and so promise t'at I shalt not bend, nor go else anywhere,
so long as thou shalt stayest, and liveth thy future years with me.

Oh, and I shalt forsaketh thee no more;
and disdaineth thee no more-thou art my sonata!
My delight liest in hearing thy sonnets be told;
thou sitting by me 'fore moonlight, down on th' starlit piazza!
Ah, Kozarev, please no longer makest my heart sore-
I am sick to death, I detestest t'is grief to th' core;
Burnest my heart's cries, and indulgest me in thy arms,
I shalt brimmest in thy glory; and gratefully lost, in thy charms.

As th' world turnest so weak and rough,
we shalt be th' sole ones to fall in love;
but our idyll is one t'is envious world cannot gather;
as it growest bleaker, as it turnest worse.
But Kozarev, having thee by my side shalt be enough;
and my days shalt be no more sad, nor tough;
Thou art th' candle, t'at lightest up th' life within me,
thou art th' candy, t'at livenest up all my poetry.

1.
white chapel on a hill

sheep dot rugged, earthy slopes

ruminate on warm, sun-kissed dale

endless lines and lines of verdant tones

late afternoon sun slanting

behold, jaune compassion

alfalfa ocherous leans willowy in wind

distance of silence yearns on

afternoon shadows lie within majestic vales

powder-blue ranges in 3D tiers

shadowy rifts, like a painting out of heaven

lone tree not alone, reaches up

blinding turns and rust-coloured bends, twisty trails

two on horseback, apples for sale

reservoir as a hold all for all

brown mud is where redemption lies.


2.
sun dips away, out of reach

beyond the eye's catch

step out car

feel the ping of silence, deeply-alive zing

crowd in and then,

into the slot of torched horizon

the orange world slips . . .




S T, 19 May 2013

I feel like glass
No that's wrong because you can still see reflections in glass
I feel like air 
No that's wrong because you can still see light through air
I feel like words
No that's also wrong because you can at least hear words when they are spoken
I guess that I am vacuum because when you look at me it's like nothing is here 
But wait 
I dot blame you directly for that I blame him
Yes your boyfriend if that's what you want to call him 
From this point in I'm going to call him your keeper 
Because although you feel he loves you
last night the things I saw were not love but anger in his eyes and fear in yours 
As I resisted the gut wrenching feeling to express to his face the emotions that flowed through me I held back in contempt
I held back to protect you from being hurt that I would do such a thing to him and keep him from bitching and complaining to you
Now I may not understand love 
But I have a pretty good idea and when I can be told from the other side of the country by the last person in the world I woul expect to say this 
That he does not love you but rather loves the feeling of controlling you for him it is like a drug he gets that high when he knows that you do what he wishes 
He gets a high from knowing that even when he fucks up that you will forgive him in the morning an not because he deserves it but because you fear him leaving 
I understand that you love him but his love for you faded long ago for him now it's just empty words he says to keep you on his hook
The way I look at you is in fear that I may never show you what love really is and that you will be stuck listening to his twisting words as he continues to control your life
That shouldn't be  my problem but it is because I love you and I fear for when he lets go 
A man very close to me once told me that a man who controls a woman's life is no real man and that a man who allows her to live her how she wants and is still there for her is the man she truly deserves
Now I'm not saying I'm better than him
But I am saying that he controls you I've seen it your friends have seen it your parents have seen but we all kept quiet trying not hurt you but I believe know because he has left that although this may hurt to read that it is time someone showed you the difference without him being able to twist it
I believe that now is the time when you must wake up and realize that he does not love you but loves controlling you 
I hope you realize that he's just trying to be your 
Keeper

I will forever love you MLG

the stars are made of rocks
the suns made of fire
there isnt enough water
nor drugs to make us higher

we're not going up or down
we're spinning not out of control
temporary balance
is sure to fold

kids play blame game,
parents take their time
whats it add up to?
still a dot on a line

so when you're making your movements
and judging others,
everything adds up to you
and we're all brothers

Find yourself
Even in the clutter of chores
In the whistle of pressure cooker
In the clash of dishes and utensils

Search yourself
In the aroma of spices
In the color of vegetables
In the routines along the kitchen platform
In the rich gravies and the brew of juices!

Look out for yourself
In the clean mirrors
Along that fine line of kohl
In the strokes of the mascara
Over the gloss of lip shades
In that dot of bindi

Hold on to yourself
In the newness
With time, space and people
Evolve...not change!
Molt...not skin off!
Wear a new color over the base...de-color not!

Even in the dark
Can you not see thy radiant self
Glowing appraised from within!
You be your master
Look for traces of yourself
In your eye's mirror!

A standardized suit.
A universal fit for
all those
who do not feel the nourishment of food.

A career path
cut
through the hem of childhood
and choked by a cheap thin
patterned tie.

The mothering
of a paranoid system;
“it’s not my fault,
just jump through the hoops.

I get paid to read you this book.
Lend me half your ear
and I will half teach you:

Think.
Don’t think.”

Spot the simile.
Dot the t and circle the i.
And I.

I am all in a room painted
with flyers.

They work like road signs,
luminescent with lasered ink
and ladled with pictures
of success.

You can.
You can’t.
You shall.

They hang
like smiling convicts on the wall.
A warning shot to remember
every time you catch yourself
staring into the sky.

The sun kisses the mountains
from its peaks down to its toes.
Awaking in the morning,
it sets the skies aglow.
Many stars may dot the sky
but I know only one.
The one that shows the way
the lighting of the sun.
You guide my path
and teach me to grow
Stretching towards you
against the blue,
I suddenly start to know.
You are my mother
the sun in my sky
so bright against the blue.
You I will love
forever and ever
it will always be true.