Evening light is gentle, slow
Caressing leaves, metal roofs, soil
Plants, flowers, pavements and gates
Clouds are the mothers - they shield us
Lest the sun shines too much.

Take a breath and look around;
The sweet and tranquil garden will take it away.
All colour blend in synchronised harmony;
Blues and browns, pinks and whites
Crossing into and over each other like
oil paints,
Warm, welcoming, beautiful.

It is soothing - the sound of nothing
That disrupts; razes; hates
Disturbs; curbs quiet insight;
One's imagination is the lone
source of maximum sound
That vibrates through the garden.

My grandfather, my grandmother's brother,
Smiles as though the sun shines through his teeth
Dresses in a pale blue shirt
Black shorts
Both well-worn
Ready to play
some basketball.

Oh, the joy, the fun
The refreshment arising from this game in a courtyard
In grandfather's garden
Among young trees, leaves and other green growth.
There stands a home by hand made
Basketball stand,
A concrete base with metal support hands
Floppy strings of hoop
To shoot the ball into.

The garden has been bathed, it is fresh
It is refreshed.
Grandfather demonstrates, I listen and follow,
To throw the ball into the hoop
With precision and care; throw some force
Into the air.
The ball dances around the circle
then drops to the concrete floor.

We take turns
As I throw and grandfather returns
9/10 of the time my aim's bad
but the ball grandfather throws, I actually catch!
(Or it will tumble on wet soil)

Exciting, the thumping
of rubber ball against ground;
Keen eyes and agile hands and feet
To catch the stray ball;
With swift movements the ball flies!
From sideways, afar and near,
Into the hoop successfully, finally.

Back into the house we go,
As the sun leaves for home.
The garden prepares for night;
So do grandfather and I;
Grandfather washes up; I talk to
Grandmother in the garden;
waiting for night, to
fall
fall
fall,
into infinite darkness -
poignant memories

The wind may blow by,
And the years may cry,
And the sands of time
May trickle past us,
Leave us for dead,
But I'll stay here
With you, at the edge
Of the world,
For you to grab onto
When the flood of God
Razes the land, strikes
The swelling waters and
Washes away the
Ruins of our times.

The words may ebb on,
And the tears may flow,
And the grains of our souls
May tumble across
Uncharted seas,
Sink to the ocean floor,
But I'll be waiting
For you, across the
Parted sea of my woes,
With open arms,
Ready to greet the
Void of night that
Flows to the beat of my heart.

The cries may ring out
And the regrets
May roll along,
And the fires in our chests
May turn to smoldering ash,
Turn us to bitter dust,
But I'll be sitting silently
For the day you'll come to me,
For the hour you'll arrive
To pacify the rising tides
Of unfathomable weakness,
Of insatiable lust.

The days may trudge on,
And the sun may go down,
And the transient moments
May limp along like
Wounded stars in the night sky,
But come what may,
And come what will,
I'll be here, by your side,
Holding onto you
Until the end-times arrive.

I am not a Savior.
I am not a Killer.
I am not Lover,
Warrior or even myself.
I am not alive or dead.
I am a Dreamer.

I have died trying to save the one I love,
Only to awaken without her.
Parts of me missing,
Replaced parts mechanical in nature,
And electric in soul.  
Spurred by the government to do their bidding.
I only go on to find my love again.

I have flown you over the river.
Shown you the most romantic gestures.
I have died in your arms.
My funeral was touching.
When you died in mine I died to.
Reborn in the spirit of vengeance.
Never resting till I avenge you.

I am hero warrior.
Battling demons, ninjas and everything else.
I am humble in my sword and fist.
Power in my bones.
You can count on me.

I am Death,
A Monster born of my own darkness.
Deep inside It arises.
Razes my soul.
Spreads its carrion wings.
It wants nothing but destruction.
I hides in the fires that blaze.
Turning this world to ash.

I am a Dreamer
I am a Dream

Who terror
Rises up with the flag
Claiming a land of their own
Gun in pocket hate in their heart

Who terror
The man with a job
Trying to get by
Snatched up by Patriot Act lies

Who terror
Razes churches with bells ringing
Hate speech home page
Wants slavery and return of the KKK

Who terror
A different religion
A different color
A different way

I'd rather torch my soul, and burn like a falling star, than forget to miss you for even a moment.
It's a dancing flame that tells stories on the walls.
It's a forest fire that razes a thousand miles to ash.
I't s a cozy hearth in the middle of a snowy winter night.
It's a funeral pyre, a last goodbye scattered on the wind.
Oh, and I am alive, I am full of joy,
And I will BURN until I can't hold it,
Spin into fire like a supernova.
I won't be quenched by any tears.
They feed me and I grow.
I am the sun, and it has hurt me to be so bright.
I will consume everything I touch-
All the knowledge and wonder I can reach, I will have,
Oh love, I am hungry to live!
You've made me so vast, so white hot like an ember.
Down in the core of me, I am the kind of heat that is unendurable.
I am a hot day in the desert, destruction and beauty,
A mirage out of shimmering mist, out of light itself.
I am the smallest candle floating lonely on the coldest sea,
And I am the rising sun scorching the world awake.
I am the kind of blaze that cleanses, like a burning needle.
I am the boiling beneath the sea where the earth reaches for us from the inside.
I am light, glancing off every molecule, painting the world beautiful and agonizing.
Molten gold, liquid and scintillating, I am so full of fire.
I will never be cold again for having known you, my darling.

Betwixt the crest
Of midnight and
Prime, the sopped
Tears of St. Lawrence
Fire like Cupid's arrows
Breaking deftly upon
The declivity of
Flamberge's wave
Sparking first things
First, purviewing a
A few things besides
Loves agony as Eos
Razes the unconcerned
Thurible of dawn like
A ghoulish sacring bell.


Eleete J Muir

Born of Gaia's womb
    an Olympus beholder
Forsaken by Zeus
   fatherless, growing older
Promethean flame
   of mortality colder
Like Atlas I've carried
   the world on each shoulder
Condemned to the weight
   of my Sisyphus boulder
A Minotaur slaying
   Medusa's gaze holder
Lion amongst men
   an Achilles heel soldier
For argonaut strive
   makes my fleece all the golder
As Icarus pride
   razes my wings to smolder
Beneath Helios
   I will shine all the bolder  
Releasing my mind
   from Pandora's enclosure
And Tartarus pits
   of my Hades exposure
No shears of Fates sever
   my heartstrings' disclosure
Andromeda bound
   by the promise I told her
In fields of Elysian
   once more I shall hold her

my soul settles when the sky weeps over the world.
the rap-rap-rap of the rain against my pane
soothes my mind, a balm to any pain.
is it the comfort of knowing that nature cries, because
if nature cries, surely i can, too?

rain gets a bad rap, i think
as it rap-rap-raps against my pane,
because it is destruciton and relief
it razes and raises.
mimicking goldilocks and the three bears:
too much, too little brings death,
but when it's just right.
when it's just right, it fosters life

why do we equate rain with sadness?
pieces of the ocean rap-rap-raping against my pane
drops dropping into puddles, pulsating
water, the element of change;
water, the element of growth;
water, the element of life.  
push-pulling its surroundings,
creeping into places it shouldn't,
movable, mutable, implacable.

rain, rain, don't go away
stay
as a reminder that even the tiniest of drops
will erode the largest of statues

I am ill and have no salve nor tonic,
No solace for a heart worn by grief,
No reprieve for a soul crushed with regret,
I am but a plaything for Love,
A rag doll to be hurled around
By a petulant God,
Punishing Man for his hubris,
His gall to demand happiness,
An impudence unforgivable,
Punishable by a lifetime of
Emotional flagellation and damnation
Damnation, forsooth
**** this bottomless heart,
**** this burning blood it pumps,
**** this undying fire,
Burning for a dead icon,
Like a dog bringing sticks to his master’s grave,
This fire burns almost to prove a point
With no regard for life,
Until it razes this body clean to the ground

Only the moon shines in the dark hours,
a sun long set closes the flowers.
The heat of summer razes the frost
and no teasing lover goes uncrossed

Focused under the dark lens of night
heat rules all driving poets to write

On the wind rides a melody of closing
the shift of the seasons already imposing,
but summer's passion the virtue own
secrets the fall cannot atone.

Silence as of one million closed doors
bestow powerful illusions upon loneliness,
it lights up the memory of its sons
even before they are born,
it carefully razes
the trees in which hamadryades slumber,
shut me up inside
the being that I am - so I do not know what I am -
and throw a light for all time
upon the moment of my death

Ioanid Romanescu, from **Magic

I AM the river that roars
And razes lost souls
I am hard
Cold as arctic ice
Yet free running liquid
I will teach you

To live for yourself is free
Others need not impede

I AM the sound that rings and screams
And sears your ears
But your screams are silenced
By my vicious jeers
I will teach you

Live with fruitful abandon
Bury those who disgagree

I am the darkest most vile maw
My breath fresh
My teeth unseen
I will teach you
I will disappoint you
And then, I'll smile

I know your soul
Worst and best
I am vengeance
Stray, and you're next

her blood is not quiet
it bounds, and razes on
sinking into the world like a burning acid
like teeth into tender meat her blood.

her blood is the new tool of the universe
lighting up the hackneyed American streets
timeless in her elegance it is her blood
that makes her timeless, but me--

my blood sits grey and quiet,
quite lazy and resplendent in a thick husk
like an anemone withdraws,
becomes one with the tether or the tie
to the Universe.

no teeth can get in,
no jealousy
i am alone
with the memory
of her thrashing blood
on the other side
of my ear canal

There is a fire in my bones
it grows, quite slow, still grows, it rose
from spark to flame it is my name
to love the broken all the same
their tears, their hurt, their loss are mine
so I'll care.
I'll care.

My fight is long and weary mind
a bitter war waged strong in times
yet fire is quenched, coals cease to glow
the sun is blurred above, below
I'm drowned beneath the grating waves
do I care?
I care.

It's not a heat to douse at will
somehow it's deep within me still
it rages on, my fierce inferno
but nowhere for the smoke to go
my blackened lungs starve me of air
and I care.
I care.

I'm suffocating, can't seem to breathe
as the roiling waves begin to seethe
at the senseless violence I can't escape
eyes stinging, tears streaming, never assuaged
no candle in the darkness
only I care.
I care

And the anger drains me while waiting and watching
the singed stars plummet, falling and fearing
this world, torn to pieces, is crashing and burning
bile razes my weary body, retching and cursing
my heavied heart hurts with the hatred
and still I care.
I care too much.

Return to the river that roars
And razes ravaged lives
And remember:
Your mistakes will find you
And history defines you
So hey, hey, Little Reprobate
Say "hi"
To your fate
The one you built inside.
Take watch
A chalice of broken glass
Falls dry as the story unfolds

The frailty of our will
shades fears to enter
the bright circle of life
through shabby doors of rectitude
displaying the prints of explanations
Markers of memories,
There is the rub that razes out the present,
Haze off the moments to appear,
Weighing upon tense life
Direct talk turns
its slumbering colours in smoke screen.
Troubling tabs actively open new grounds
of history with no past,
cover the clauses of cares unfeelingly
pauses whisper like songs sinking in dreams.
Though separation blurs
in blinking lights, phonie talks,
Sprawled in hands to mouth or ear to lips,
distance always fixes its roots
in untouchable finery of night.
waiting adds up nothing but anguish,
dividing its sentences into slippery sand
Battering invariably a hope inside us
with swerves of thoughts;
waiting stands no clock

risen by tracing
a relief of you in silk
Venus razes dawn

on my ivory mantelpiece
it is perched like a broken hourglass.
day and night, unmoving,
whispering unspeakable things.
it sits watching,
no eyes.

are you my god?

it has no mouth
and yet it speaks.

                  no, i am not
                  i am more than you will ever know
            i am the aggregate of all your sorrow
                     i am your creator
                              your destructor
                                    i am all your fears
                             and all your loves
                     i am your soul
                                    and your darkness
                            your light in the dark
             and the dark that extinguishes your flame
                                     i am all that you are
                             and i am nothing at all
                                             i am a very terrible thing


darkness responds
taking my vision from me
and i bleed from my eyes
some catastrophe
afflicts my psyche
an aphrodite
my almighty
razes me like her own

Abandoned, she waits
for her lover's return
across the empty room.
Banks of fear bunch up
behind her furrowed brow.

Loneliness does not dole out such
punishments. Solitude re-creates
reparations for the self, fashions
an unyielding glue that will fuse
together all her shattered pieces.

Inwardly she knows he is not
coming back. The static portrait
a mournful reminder that love
is as fleeting as the wind; it
blows where it will; it razes

what stands in its way. Her heart
is not ready for such defeat. So she
grabs hold of a hope rising behind the
painted walls. He will not return, no.
Still she stares through space, alone

Abandoned, she waits
for her lover's return
across the empty field.
Banks of clouds bunch up
behind the rising forest.

Loneliness does not dole out harsh
punishment. Solitude re-creates
reparations for the self, fashions
an unyielding glue that will fuse
together all her shattered pieces.

Inwardly she knows he is not
coming back. Her packed bag
a scornful reminder that love
is as fleeting as the wind; it
blows where it will; it razes

whatever stands in its way. Her heart
is not ready for such defeat. Her will
grabs hold of a hope rising behind the
charcoal clouds. He will not return, no.
Still she stares through the trees, alone.

How long?
How long does it take for a wound to heal?
How long for you to feel whole once again?
Perhaps a small scratch on the arm takes weeks,
Perhaps a large **** on a leg takes months,
Perhaps the deepest wound of all takes years,
But what wound would that be?
Would it be an amputated limb,
A limb that was once apart of your body,
That has now been torn off.
Or maybe, it’s a deeper wound than that.
One that reaches to the very depths of your soul,
One that reached your core,
And tore it apart from the inside out,
A virus,
A contagion.
A cancer that reached the innocent person you once preserved,
The innocent person that came out of hiding,
And showed itself to one other person,
And that person killed them, destroyed them, annihilated them.

How long?
One year?
Two years?
Three years?
Maybe more?
What happens during this healing time?
I’ll tell you what happens,
It ruins your heart.
Razes the buildings of conviction and reason in your head,
Tearing them down and replacing them with a shelter for sickened thoughts,
And establishes shrines of a great power of nihilism.
How long until this anarchal government and reigning establishment of power in your mind,
Leaves and lets the free spirit of joy relieve your nerves?
This socialism and totalitarianism in which all are the same,
Except the wrenching ****** structure of the dictator,
Who has breached upon the rights of every brain cell,
And makes individuality fade,
And your identity along with it.

Maybe this is a part of the process?
How could it be one in the same with this evil?
How could a pain so vile and gruesome,
Be the work of a medicine?
No!
I have been broken and I will not heal!
I cannot!
My pride will not allow me,
My soul will not allow me!
I have something to prove!
I must prove that I am not able to be healed,
That I am not a soul to be saved!
I am not looking to a higher power to come down from the heavens and save me,
I am not filled with fear or disillusionment,
You are the imposter here,
You are the one that does not belong!
I am the one who is thinking straight!
I see what no others can!
I see what no others are able,
I see the world the way it was made
A dark, cruel place where the forebodings of the future are the only constant,
The ticking of a clock and fall of a pencil are the only constant,
The pain and the suffering are the only constant.
I see the world in its purest form,
A singularity,
A planet that turned into an exploding star,
The product of which does not let even light escape.
Not one photon.
Not one reflection or refraction.
Not one neuroreceptor that works properly.
Are these two things comparable by nature?
A basic source of light being the same as a feeling of being alive?
Both have been deprived from my body,
One in a metaphysical sense,
The other in an anatomical sense.
How have we reached this point?
Because of the wound.
It all circles back to the wound that I have received,
It has made me ill.

I see.
I see now.
I let this thing feast off of me,
Vultures and flies to a carcass.
It consumed me whole, digesting me without my knowledge.
I was slowly waking up,
Floating back towards the surface,
In a liquid that had an exceptional viscosity,
A sap that would let me come back up at a protracted rate.
But now I’m intelligent enough to understand my surroundings,
And I can see a light.

The light?

Comparable to happiness.
I’m here,
Someone who was in pain is now no longer,
Someone has been healed of their wounds.
Or perhaps I will still limp,
Perhaps I will still struggle to gain footing,
But one day I will be able to run a marathon,
And I will prove what I need to those around me.

Prove something.

What was it that I wanted to prove beforehand?
Was it that I could not heal?
It seems so distant and so far,
I hardly remember what I felt.
Why would I wish that upon myself?
Now I must prove my humanity.
I must prove that I can feel once again.
I must prove that I am reborn,
But most importantly I must prove that I can forgive.
Forgiving a person is possibly the hardest task one can be given,
And it has been given to me.
I must either cast it aside,
Or embrace it for what it is,
And I do not want to be in pain anymore.

Revolutions within one’s mind,
A great war with himself, herself, themselves.
I have torn down these buildings of suffering,
These buildings which incite torment,
A great government has been replaced,
A prosperous society for all,
And now an individual trait can be found once again,
Or an old one can be revived,
And all love can come back,
All joy can return.
An ensured security of the core will be set,
One that will keep it safe, and let others understand how it works,
One that will keep you loving the world around you,
One that will keep you safe.
A wound healed,
A ministry reformed,
A battle won,
A star formed,
A point proven.