My heart is beating so for you
believe ne honey my love is true
What had i done not hate me please
eloquent you and your sweet English

you know what you told first
Give this rose to someone best
I am not wrong i chosen you
again I tell my love is true

Where we met at corner there
Fergusson-Modern one bus stop were
when you spoke one word so bold
and I was tried your hand to hold

What stroke of your sweet bright eyes
why not given that GOOD-LUCK prize
to win your grace I worked so heard
but why you turn and proved me bad

Where is your that fancy dress?
which give you round and rolling grace
I choose you for my red rose ;why?
your little height and sweetest shy

when you move ;why?your hidden soul
which time ?did you perform that role
only you and our Indian airs
how I tell you I love you dear

o dear show me that secret shine
In that many youth you are divine
I like your turning and rolling round
in your language one poetic sound

fear no more dear wait for year
coming soon i am in the name of dear
it nothing but the joy you seen
you know what that echoing shrill

I saw that air with rhyme rhythmic
don't  know what is the measure for it
I like you and your thiny lips
I was dreaming in the night of sleeps

What am I wrong ?really tell me
that smell I want and together we
not matter what rule and law
keep me with you or declare draw

what you like .......I know it
take care of yourself and on time  Eat
who was that one you moving around
wind was so cold on that ground

with whom your speaking I feel jealous
where are you in the sky;come to us
In my nation lush garden green
you get everything;what I captured in

o dear crazy wayward listen to mine
I never smile at others fairy shine
o honey I cant send you away
we make together our one way

happiness and pleasure will be there
I like your innocent face dear
your heart is like the deepest ocean
your sound rhythmic has special motion

It is not cross the limit of soul
you the soulmate I told you whole
I cant say more about your nature
like dancing peacocks reathers feature

my singing dove is waiting for you
your peaceful shadow -tell;how are you
how I say about my soul
wish to be your guard is my role

In the garden of coconut at evening
moving wind with yellow shining
wants you dear ;be the friend of mine
little stars of heaven its twinkling shine

don't change your friend for my heart
I'm  the one will ever your guard
I know why?your anger high
your tempered eyes give terrible joy

not matter anger it shows your beauty
your nose,lips hair looks  sweetly
you're the one who university queen
give me that your hidden unseen

no not why but you are the one
I like your speech and anger like sun
I wish to hold your hand quickly
heavenly little queen looks sweetly

come to me at list at last
if one break your heart so fast
not matter if this next seven birth
what is this earth;is it the worth?

this my love is paradise of love
messenger of peace my friend is dove
it is the one my immortal song
ever I love you,is fixed,not wrong

o sweet heart,dear listen to me
made for each other couple are we
what I say don't get bother
we have to take seven birth together

you and me were roses in first birth
you the bud I was flower on this earth
scent of love we had given to the world
and yet we loved till get to the old

In second time we became singing doves
day and night we live in love
fey free-in the sky with keeping peace
peaceful messenger really love this

you and me will  became the snake
we ran in the jungle and moved into lake
touching our body embraced each other
breathing closeness sleeped night together

At fourth time you the flame of fire
that was the time your wish so higher
in romance we spend each the time
your breathing air spoke rhythm and rhyme

Fifth birth must deep down in the sea
in that blue world what lovers would we
lush green surface had softy blue shine
nature of you was perfect divine

This is the sixth,you teacher ;student I
teach me poems of love,it need;why?
you teach that all what love you made
In the garden of banana we make our shade

At last we will die, leave this world
and beyond all this remains our love
Last seventh time we the stars in the sky
we'll blessings to the lovers with immortal joy.

On the tip of my tongue you burned like hot coffee,
With a hit of my blunt you’ve undone my lofty,
made me a softy,
I wont forget.

Denim jacket leaning down, you’ve got room in your throat,
You’ve got words in your coat,
Pockets full of notes.

Ink on your arms that wrap, wrap around me,
Words pushing on your teeth like braces,
Laces,
Up your shoes that walk all around me,
I won't forget.

Maybe whisper it now or tell me tomorrow.

Denim jacket leaning down, tippy toes to kiss your nose.
You’ve made me a softy,
I won’t forget.

Sweet and simply say it from behind those curtains,
Smoke in your nose from my fire lungs,
Stain my breath with your words,
Blessed syllables,
I won’t forget.

Blue Monday**
BY DIANE WAKOSKI
Blue of the heaps of beads poured into her *******  
and clacking together in her elbows;
blue of the silk
that covers lily-town at night;
blue of her teeth
that bite cold toast
and shatter on the streets;
blue of the dyed flower petals with gold stamens  
hanging like tongues
over the fence of her dress
at the opera/opals clasped under her lips
and the moon breaking over her head a
gush of blood-red lizards.

Blue Monday. Monday at 3:00 and
Monday at 5. Monday at 7:30 and
Monday at 10:00. Monday passed under the rippling  
California fountain. Monday alone
a shark in the cold blue waters.

                     You are dead: wound round like a paisley shawl.  
                     I cannot shake you out of the sheets. Your name  
                     is still wedged in every corner of the sofa.

                     Monday is the first of the week,  
                     and I think of you all week.  
                     I beg Monday not to come  
                     so that I will not think of you  
                     all week.

You paint my body blue. On the balcony
in the softy muddy night, you paint me
with bat wings and the crystal
the crystal  
the crystal
the crystal in your arm cuts away
the night, folds back ebony whale skin  
and my face, the blue of new rifles,  
and my neck, the blue of Egypt,  
and my *******, the blue of sand,  
and my arms, bass-blue,
and my stomach, arsenic;

there is electricity dripping from me like cream;
there is love dripping from me I cannot use—like acacia or  
jacaranda—fallen blue and gold flowers, crushed into the street.

                         Love passed me in a blue business suit
                         and fedora.
                         His glass cane, hollow and filled with
                         sharks and whales ...  
                         He wore black
                         patent leather shoes
                         and had a mustache. His hair was so black
                         it was almost blue.

                         “Love,” I said.
                         “I beg your pardon,” he said.  
                         “Mr. Love,” I said.
                         “I beg your pardon,” he said.

                         So I saw there was no use bothering him on the street

                         Love passed me on the street in a blue  
                         business suit. He was a banker  
                         I could tell.

So blue trains rush by in my sleep.  
Blue herons fly overhead.
Blue paint cracks in my
arteries and sends titanium
floating into my bones.  
Blue liquid pours down
my poisoned throat and blue veins
rip open my breast. Blue daggers tip
and are juggled on my palms.
Blue death lives in my fingernails.

If I could sing one last song
with water bubbling through my lips
I would sing with my throat torn open,
the blue jugular spouting that black shadow pulse,  
and on my lips
I would balance volcanic rock
emptied out of my veins. At last
my children strained out
of my body. At last my blood
solidified and tumbling into the ocean.
It is blue.  
It is blue.  
It is blue.

Can I write you a love song
I’ll sing it softy in your ear all night long
Blow gently without words on my saxophone
Diamond and Pearls behind the throne
A beautiful ensemble meant for only you
As I give credence too
Take my hand
Cross this journey with me as I sing about faraway lands
Past Egypt pyramids shifting Morocco sands
Lay back my love, allow your mind to silently drift
Feel the enchantment of my piano keys as it spiritual uplifts

I’ll sing love songs of old
A cappella chorus echoed from deep within my enlighten soul
I’ll sing to you about the blues, society’s injustice, and elements of darken storms
Keep your heart warm, while playing my French Horn
Enrapture foretold from this dedicated symphonic poem
A music sheet of percussion, woodwind, brass, keyboard, and strings
Harmony carrying the mind away as the joy of coming spring
I’ll hum your favorite beats, can you feel the crescendo now
Fiddle from the heart by the sweat of one’s brow

Submerge your cerebral cortex, lose yourself in the sultry tunes
Harp sounds bathe of light kissed from the illuminating moon
Destiny overcasts in the lyrics
Fate floating stratospheric
Karma of others handled in the eyes of satiric
Opera, I give you so grand in its grace
French Creole dialect murmured among silk and lace
Sounds of my flute resonant to face
Allowing my Cello sounds to thoroughly embrace

Can I write you a love song
Body and soul serenading soprano to keep you standing strong
My guitar stringing your philosophies along
An equal equation, one plus one equals two
Emotions, feelings, sentiments, its tenor expressed only for you
No compass to my heart, my seasonal love found in hidden melodies
Trombone guiding back and forth breathless as it please

Orchestra sounds
Ascending minds, bodies, souls, pass the opening clouds, divine and profound
The last note sung by me as we gradually come down
Beautiful music embraced, needs never to make a sound
Shh, close your eyes
Meditate on the music for a little while

Hush sweet baby don’t say a word
My heart softly tweets to a mockingbird
If that mockingbird don’t sing
Can I write you a love song created only for your being
As minds are sightseeing
Hearts fleeing
Timpani drums guaranteeing
Entwined of our divine wellbeing
Emotions freeing
Crooning of bodies heard as the day is long
Can I write you a love song

I am cold.
But everyone says
You just need to get past my walls,
I am a warm person deep down.
They see what they want to but
I am cold as ice inside.
People will tell you
I have a sensitive side but
Hardly anyone sees.
What I truly am inside,
A heartless monster.
Still, my peers think they know
I am really a big softy.

Now read it bottom to top.

the cherry blossom accord/equation

”perfumers use aromachemicals to recreate a cherry blossom accord...(an accord is a scent made up of individual aromachemicals, that when combined, create a harmonious blend where none of the individual ingredients are able to be detected on their own).”

the odor of our lustful eyes,

the sweat, a unique commingling,
a sheen of salted oils body bathing,

crushed green petals of peaches,
crumbled together with the softy fuzz shavings,
the sediment of aromatic fruit juices drippings

our blending bottled in our brains,
none other would recognize but we,
to too two smell each other through and over
floors, concourses, cities, disparate distances

our ingredients secreted (secret),
our flavors cell secreted (secreting)
the world’s silly tittering aroma inserted,
our sparking fingertips touching
add a bush burning burnt odiferous

we seat across from each other in an airport
plastic restaraunt and everyone asks out loudly,
what is that smell, feed me that, taste me that,
as we are irradiating the atmosphere,
as we renegotiate our cherry blossom accord,
fresh signatures, updated, harmony of harmonies, notarized

she smiles, I joke, winking,
we must continue
to meet like this,
the fireworks of we,
of us,
to-gather to-gether,
a getting of giving,
she answers:

take me home and
bathe me in love,
give our bodies shelter
from the world outside,
beside a new spice
have I uncovered,
this will require some
discussion+exploration,
the quantity to be added,
the when, and the how!

what is this new ingredient?
asking puzzled and aroused,
she laughs
(a spice already included),
why it’s called
only love poetry






8/23/19 4:55pm

when i first saw you
the first thought was
"badass"
but
when i first saw your face
it said
"opposite of badass"
i know
your face is telling the truth
you little softy

You're better than the first rain of spring
sent to quench the worn soil
better than my first memory
or my fathers smile
you're better than the song of every bird I've ever heard
every book I've ever read
or dream I've ever dreamt
You're the best thing in my world
and every second with you
is the best moment of my life

its been a while since
i decided to let words flow
on a blank screen

its been a while
but i needed a bit
of self-given sanity

i feel too soft
and too sensitive

i feel too loud
and too offensive

i feel as if i cant
operate in a manner
thats acceptable anymore

i write to bleed
the thoughts that plague me

i bleed when i cant
write the words that made me

and its nice to finally be able
to let go and
feel calm

so i dropped in to say
im still alive



xoxoxo

this moment
sets the mood
naked
afraid
vulnerable
you stand
before me

released
from your collar
chains
lying on furs
softy crying

i brand you
with an iron
so all
will know
you
are mine

We three wished upon a star.
One is fairest, one had the car.
One is the bind that is the love.
We three stare at clouds above.

Slowly, softy, changing shape;
Like we; folding, holding, loosening chape,
Warmth of breath upon taut strength.
We roll, and stick, and cling.

For each other, we sustain.
Pleasures ache, quakes refrain.
Touch brings shivers, slivers wide,
Ever growing, rolling tide.

Upon the Earth, beneath the sky.
We three embrace, nuzzle, sigh.
We recede from the crest.
Reluctantly, we rise and vest.

life really is sunshine and rainbows
if you wake up and choose to see it
even in the clouds hanging over our heads
and beneath all of the lonely in our beds
there is light that softy shines ahead

and it is constant

with a kaleidoscope
of colors that blossom
from pain once endured
and sunshine that follows
with just the kind of warm
that you never even knew
you’d been searching for

and eventually, when it pours
you’ll start asking for more
because you’ll feel that the growth
is worth all that you came here for

and when your heart breaks
you’ll laugh
because it always
  always
    always
grows right back
with more reason to beat
and more clarity to see

do you know what i mean?
everything has magic at its seams

you are the moment you are experiencing
and it is perfect

so sit back and enjoy the dream...

I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door

Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is

whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone

is Hannah home?
I ask

I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me

jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat

yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says

and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step

I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked

I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear

sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks

thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say

do I need money?
she asks

just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream

I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer

Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks

fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies

no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both

are you sure?

yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to

so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square

she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut

we walk down the *****
and up Meadow Row

I ask her how her father is

she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says

-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-

we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes

she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.

I'm a nice guy (nice guy)
Wasn't always the case
I'm doing alright (alright)
But it
Wasn't always the case

I wasn't always so willing to speak about it
See, I was just as lost reading out the
Fist fights screaming shouting - matches passed it
almost me sapped of passion
no shocker I
zapped back into action
People confused might say it's
acting and passive
My alphabetical magic is massive -
Please!
I don't seek the blood of my enemies!
I'm so nice
I'm so nice
I'm too nice.

I sat up in bed, wide awake.

Mere seconds separated my dreams from reality. Yet, consciousness had seized me more effectively than ice water.

I had been caged within sleep, until something ridiculous happened.  

Something ridiculous, and something real.

I sprang from the covers, pulled on a sweater, and burst out the door. All around me was silent. Life, it seemed, was not yet awake.

I took a deep breath, and began running. I ran so fast my surroundings blurred into a pallet of color; the sound, still muted.

My feet flew across the dewy grass.

I imagined myself into smaller, simpler spaces; tucked in with the ghosts. How fast could I run from my dreams? How fast could I run towards reality?

If the grass had soaked my socks, I barely knew. If the wind had serenaded my skin, I remained disembodied. The alexithymia of consciousness.

My thoughts snaked and swerved and collided in my head, but in that stretch of oblivion, a lone inference guided me.

Nothing mattered in the world but one thought.

Wake up, Maple. Wake up.

The House of Addictions was the epithet I chose.

It nestled several blocks from mine, and was the type of estate that demanded normalcy.

Upon reaching the front hedge, I examined the house; two blue paneled stories. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but this wasn’t it.

I coaxed the front door.

Locked.

I circled around to the backyard. The room I sought was on the second level. I ascended the balcony onto the porch; the room’s window stood several feet from where I could stand. There was a vacant flowerbox sitting on a ledge outside the window.

Without question, I clambered onto the deck’s railing and extended my leg into the flower box. It was a long way to fall, but I wasn’t scared. I had no choice. I clung with all my might to the window’s ledge, shifted my weight to the flowerbox leg, and plopped over the other. A scream frozen in my throat. Breathing heavily, a death grip on my perch, I crouched; the box seemed sturdy enough.

I peered through the window.

At this ungodly hour, he was most likely still asleep.

Unless.

The bed was vacated. Did this mean? I closed my eyes, took a breath.

Wake up.

Things like this did not happen – plain and simple.

A minute later, after clambering off the flowerbox and scampering back down the stairs, I rejoined the street, sprinting along with renewed vigor.

The sun glistened on the grass, the morning, ripening. Yet, I heard not the sound of birds chattering on secluded sycamores, nor my feet pattering along the sidewalk. I was immaterial. I was the wind – gliding fluidly towards that which waited.

My body was to be found at a stoplight, punching the button spastically.

But my mind had already arrived, several streets away.

The stoplight changed. I ran. Stores whizzed by, early morning traffic sheathed the street. I had to slow my thoughts, I had to separate from the stark possibilities that incased me.

I’d dreamed of his death; simple, like the twelve forget-me-nots he threw across my floor five years ago. The last expression I saw as he departed still had yet to leave his face.

Although he moved home a year ago, he never really returned.

Wake up.

I veered my course to the left, dodging through traffic, and found the street.

It was there that my mind had arrived.

This avenue was vacated and tranquil, an eclipse of the earlier. And there was that house; green and silent as ever.

Clutching a stitch in my stomach, I dove over the waist high fence and tripped on my own foot. I fell, scraping my elbows on concrete and swearing beneath my breath, but I couldn’t stop. I scrambled to my feet and staggered towards a ground levelled window.

Exhausted, I tripped again. Then several strangled events laced together. First, I tumbled to that window. I held my hands out, expecting to hit glass, but realized too late that it was open. Before that fully registered, I was toppling – headfirst – through the open window. My insides plummeted, muting my scream. I hit the bed with a sharp thump, before it tossed me to the floor.

There, I landed, **** first, mute and sprawling.

While my body congealed, my heart auditioned as drummer, and stars teased my peripheral.

The room materialized as I blinked through confusion. Softy, I sat myself upright.

His eyes were the first thing I saw.

Reality zapped me so hard I almost fell back again; he was alive, I’d woken up.

Then my senses caught up; my elbows cried, my head throbbed, and my breath rekindled in ragged crackles. As if a switch was flicked, I suddenly identified sound; the humming of cars outside, the crisp ticking of a clock, the gurgling of his fish tank. So loud – so distinct. Color sharpened and brightened.

My mind in overdrive.

He was here.

He sat on his bed, alive and well, speechless with alarm.

Oliver was shirtless, lidded only by flannel pants and black gloves. He considered me with bleeding elbows, disheveled hair, and desperate eyes. Then, the shock on his face gave way for a giant grin.

“Come here often?” He inquired. His voice, raspy with morning.

Still panting and shaking, I conjured a smile to match Oliver's.

“You’d think so. . .” I choked.

“And I’d be right, Maple.” He finished. I managed a laugh.

Nothing had changed.

It's stories above where the butterflies rustled,
Whirring between the lights in aeolian bustle.
I'm smiling spritely at a neon halo,
While my organs writhe in jacqueminot El Niño.
Wading the nightscape  with a glitched simper,
I could not change nor attempt to tinker,
Just breaching the moments passing to linger.
Fingers, then palms, then lips, then black,
Then for a few seconds the world collapsed.
A breath, a sip, some wit, I'm back.
Shed the murky vision of captive cataracts.
And now,
The sylph saunters in epitomized elegance,
And I've buckled on the inside to the resonant reverence.
I follow the fragrance in her wake as paralyzed sedatives,
And anything I might say could only lack eloquence.
Then magnanimous mantras attract exact,
It seems way down the rabbit hole I've finally met my match.
There's a mesh of flesh, a smooth caress,
Then I wake and realize these were not visions yonder death.
Particles of my brain erupt,
I can't explain away the unfading elation of touch.
Every pose palatial down to the pixels,
I'd gaze deep in the sheen of her mind gleaming as crystals.
Her eyes open like daybreak in flashes,
Sunstreaks glint over the horizon of her lashes.
There's morning songbirds behind the taste of coffee,
I think she's figured I'm just a well decorated softy.
Unveiling my most human of contentions stripped to the eclipse of logic,
My former self laughs in tones pitched sardonic.
Euphorically strumming at gossamer heartstrings,
Etched in the fabric as sakura carvings.

She is now all elbows and bird limbs
Eating her ever smaller
Hearing her cry in the night ****** nails on a chalk board
I want to hold her help her
Be the rescue swimmer in her ocean of tears
Holding for I am soft
Her daughter no fine specimen
A coward
A softy
Not once did she hold me
In seventh grade when I had my first kiss and he broke up with me for the girl with blonde hair and bangs
She said I was just too young
In eighth grade I fell in lust with a high school boy for the first time and ended it when I got bored but not before I gave him what i thought symbolized love.
I didn't tell her
In 9th grade I fell in love with a boy that would never be able to love me the way I wanted him to. But I stayed  for four years until I couldn't find any more of myself to break off and give to him.
She told me I would get over it.
I have a mother who the world made cold
And she had a daughter that felt too much
who she taught feeling was a waste of time

The bag is half empty.
All evening, my right hand
swimming with cushions.

I pop in another
pink cylinder, squash the shell
with one bite.

A tinge of strawberry
coats the ceiling of my mouth,
swirls under my tongue.

Like scoffing
a miniature sponge, its insides
weld to every back tooth.

Once down my throat
I reach for the next softy.
Just one more.

I'm five nine
I work a nine to five
My hands at ten and two
To intent to fall away
I drive home without the radio
The windows are closed
Kids in backseats gazing into iPhones
I'm fine, nice
I smile and kiss
The sky at night, day too
I reuse grocery bags
And I let bugs outside
I will call you once a week

I'm sorry I said that
You didn't deserve that
They say every body is a broken bell -
That must explain the ringing in my ears
I can't tell you no -
I know, -  I should tell you no -
But no, I can't tell you no -
Oh - here I am again,
night owl at a crow bar -
another situation I was leveraged into -
but somehow so far, so so-so, so mediocre -
So far, away, you must be by now

The show must go on, Frogmore
says, and Lottie sits and has
a quick drag on her cigarette and
sips the foul coffee from the

drinks machine. Legs ache, head
banging, back stiff. She inhales
and thinks of Frankie and his
coming to her place the previous

evening and wanting to stay over
for the night. The cabaret takes it
out of her. The eyes on her, the talk
going on while she and the other

girls do their bit. Frankie such a
sweetheart, such a Mr Softy, curled
up on the sofa, his huge overcoat
as a cover, his head sunk into a

cushion, sleeping. She watches the
smoke rise from the cigarette, she
lifts it and the smoke rises in short
circles, like her father used to do

when she was a kid sitting on his
knee. Watch the smoke Kid, see
how it rises like some kind of message
to the gods. And he laughed about

that back then. She felt safe on his
knee even when he used to let it rise
and fall like some kind of riding  horse.
Now it is just the cabaret and the lonely

nights and Frankie on the sofa because
his old lady threw him out and he won’t
sleep with Lottie because he’s a good
Catholic boy and anyways, he said, it’d

get too confusing and he’d just lay there
on the sofa on those nights and she’d lay
alone wanting company and maybe someone
to hug her real close. Hey, Frogmore says,

you in this next dance or what? What do I
pay you for, huh? Sit about and smoke
yourself to death? You want to die do it
in your own time not mine. She stubs out

the cigarette **** and drains the foul coffee
in one last gulp. The music has started up
their theme bit for her and other girls and
out there in the audience drinking, eating

and talking, maybe Frankie staring or her
father with his latest flame without beauty
or brains or nice figure or remembered name.

It twists deeper with an aching draw that only it can bring
A sharp breath taking lunge into the deepest part of the heart
The place were only the things that matter most are stored
How it eats, like rust staining a priceless metal it tears away the very flesh
Sinking deeper and deeper still into the inner most part oneself
Burrowing it's way close, to munch away a what is left of self when all defenses are lost
To drown itself in tears and gore itself on the raw intensity of anguish
Love so intense that when it's source is no longer there to fill the fountain
It starts to sink into its host killing it softy, 
Choking on regret.

i cant still feel your hair on my hand
the way it glides between my little fingers
short stubbles of your flaxen locks
the way it interlocks with my weary hand as it moves all around
as painful as the grass beneath my naked feet
though i sink to the earth
mellow like the ocean tides

but not a glace afterwards
evermore harsh
evermore loud
but softy as you whisper nothing into my ears
say hello to mute goodbye

I fell hand in hand
with gravity
to kiss your surface
dried to a crisp
under the summer sun

I fell hand in hand
with gravity
with the wind against my face
reminding me of
how beautiful
the autumn chill is

I fell hand in hand
with gravity
and looked around to see
others falling with me
face first aching to crash
and melt into something
beautiful

I fell hand in hand
with gravity
leaving the bland sky above
to touch something human
to feel some heat
against the coldness
that's embodied every cell
in me

I fell hand in hand
with gravity to send
an awakening chill
an awakening taste
of winter

I fell hand in hand
with gravity to bring to life
dormant senses put to sleep
by the beach and the summer
sweat

I fell hand in hand
with gravity to land
on your lips, chapped
by the past

I fell hand in hand
with gravity
to softy nestle
on your eye lashes

I fell hand in hand
with gravity
to create constellations
on the window
in front you
to follow your finger
as you trace my
next
fall

Not sure when all of this started
Maybe the day sanity departed
But now I find that I like to chew
On anything the color of blue

The transition was rather simple
Erasures from colored pencils
Of course you know the color I choose
Do I need to keep reminding you

And who in their right mind would not pack lunch
Without the world of Crayola in a colorful box
They even give the crayons fancy names
Although all the shades of blue taste the same

And for a chew with a bite without the bark
I always do blue from the Play-Doh jar
To be fair other colors I've tried
But haven't I told you it's the blue that I like

Don't dare get me wrong there is normal I find
Why I'm a softy for good a blueberry pie

Then there's blue Pixie sticks
And blue Kool-Aid mix
Blue frozen pops
Blue chewy gum drops
Blue Gatorade
Blue frosted cupcakes
Who ever knew
There was so much color blue

And I know what you think
Call it a hunch
But the Permanent Marker
I needed only try once

Like I said
I'm not sure when all of this started
Maybe the day sanity departed...

As the Tantric goddess
dominates her lover
A monk
With her eyes.
With passion and fierceness
with the intent
To ****** him
And to see his soul.  
They kiss softy.

I reached into the night and touched the sky as a star fell heavy into this untrusted land. I caught it in my hand and it hit me at the speed of fright. I outstretched my palm to see this cradled light, this heat, it was a heart and I knew its hesitant beat through my bones. it was my own. Though it had blue eyes through which true beauty shone.  Its red hair so fair and fine wasn't mine, it wasn't mine but it's song was the same, it had a name. By chance it did dance a delicate ballet into my soul. I knew instantly then that I was made whole and that scars could subside with the healing of wounds. This gift, this boon, was without end in this delicate friend. Who whispered softy as the doves and touched me with a love so clean that I knew I was walking in a waking dream.

Away from the sun
Pale gets warmer
Never number one
Ashes get colder

And the Myans predicted
Only time will tell
Just swimming in my personal hell

We're all sitting ducks
Please hold me tight
Though the night

I’m a crow perched on
A telephone pole
Just waiting for the worms

Lightning comes
I am numb
On the road

Misunderstood
The dove sought after
A change for good
A chance shot at her

Fly with the crow
I want to yell
Swimming in my personal hell

Studying the nest
Bulimic rests
In the throat

And the eagle
Iconic white
If only his mind was right

He’d know that his dove
Has fallen in love
With a crow

Time heals wounds
But it also kills slowly
The dove’s heart grew
Yet blood stopped pumping

Pain felt the crow
As the bells tolled
Swimming in his personal hell

All life aside
He dove through the lake
Drowned and died

Drifting away
No longer felt pain
Free to escape
See the dove again

And the clear water
Drew a surprise
As the tears swept softy from my eyes

There laid the dove
Sent from above
Waiting for me

Drifting away
Drifting away
Drifting away
Drifting away

the tarnished amour of the we little she, he and yes, the you in me.

Pix elated images vibratory frequency of the flicker rate,
the resolution in its #x# scale and aspect ratio,

silly how we utter this vibe from the heart, vocal in rounded grounded sounded,
these words, we symbolize, individualize, characterize, initialize, authorize,
these thoughts and concepts of need and purpose, of intent, of desired effect/affect, for reason and yes even a ******* resolution.

Yet is the resolutions we seek through intended deeds and understandings of these choppy rounded uttered babbled bastardized thought into the realm of physical and manifest from the electric thoughts of our seeming lone and lonely worlds of the pitch black of the inner parts of the skull and brain so gelatinous and electro- chemically factory of the mind through the spine and the Ark of the Covenant through the helix of a Jacobs Lattered spiral stair way to heaven , is it really ******* that we have in mind of resolution? or is it te failings of this duality we have created in the love of the out pouring of our creator into this silly illusion of vibrations reflection as our truth Experiences its creations through the very minds eye of our torn , broken and forgiving hearts a blaze?

I say, need not worry of a long sentence where the heart speaks without punctuation, anticipation, nor retaliation for rendered intent, for we utilize what is of truth and all things are of God and only in existence by the living will of Love which is your conscious creator and father, tree from which our seeds of lineage do come and a family tree that deeds us all kingdoms and lands where our hearts rule endlessly and in the glory of free thought and will al in the love of learning  and remembering we never have left the garden and the heart of our creator, see the remote of this reality is the illusion, we are only all and all only the one in the dim witted yet learning love of the consciousness of the one source, our facts an truths self evident on that day soon to come for us all, wt en we snap our heads to the right in a sudden **** to realize  ***, it is truly that simple? it was all that simple? oh my, yes, just as kindergarten, where we learned, Nothing is that difficult, the only thing difficult is the us in interaction with all of existence and the flow of what is already and always has been and never was, the never never of the always has been son. the You in me, the me in you and the we in this most truly intelligent, patient, kind and everlasting life of labored and growing love of the one true creator the all , the great spirit, the Lord, the soul one, so true, the all in all and the us all in you as you witness the beauty of you in the heart of the ever growing and thriving source of all, **** friend I love you too, and you love my *** too, and together we are both silly children and foolish in ever forgetting to believe less of the truth of miracles and the in a blink of an eye reality of the garden of dreams we stand, you there, me here, and nothing but love in the in between.

Not forgoing the risk that you just might fear the reality that you are a big softy and only dislike the hearts and unicorns shooting rainbows from their arses because you find little love in what man has created, well, son, brother, sister, sit down and lets talk for a second, consider this,
all things are created by God and thus made out of pure sound of the love pouring from the trunk of this tree of life, and if you i intend to harm another ******* in the world with one of Gods Creational vibrations with your creations of will and thought , then remember that God superseded your silly ***, by allowing that hate filled intent of harm  is made from love and the intent can be stripped from the truth of weight, pain, burden, causation for another to doubt themselves ( lets be honest, this is the flat truth, you can not cause true harm without the other allowing themselves to believe the creations purpose.) and in that be harmed by a creation from you using the love of God , for you can not create **** nor anything exist outside of the love and sound of Gods being and truth, so, yeah, next time you are hurt by another's actions and deed, remember, you are a creator in this love of God too, and you can strip the intent from all things man and take it to the original truth, Gods love for you as you learn and grow in this bizarre place of day dreams we have fancied ourselves helpless too, **** we can be silly and foolish but, we will never be undone nor destroyed in the image of the face of God for we are all made of the sound of Gods love for all existence.

and thus , if you don't agree, then, thanks for playing , lol, listening that is, and realize you are free to believe what ever, and i too am in this fact self evident, and in this one rule is the only consistent, harm none, least you be harmed. for out of the eater comes meat and from the strong comes a soft hand.
and in that, my friends, is where i stand.

and that is why all the tarnish and stains and marred marks of battles won and lost, will lift and flutter away as cherry blossoms in the wind on a summers windy day. and shine, you will, and counted we do make, for we are here to learn and grade one anothers efforts to stay in line with the core rules, and never, even, are we out of the you in me and the me in you. wink, smile and by the way, thank you for the small things , for they are truly the biggest of things in the cy re of self evident and good.

Badger Crow Moon/ Ricci Dale Moon Scott Oct/12/2015 12:04 PM
Moon Walk ✗☽彡☾✗☰ Trigram Heaven , may we all have equal chance to prove we can harm no one and create true and in love and growth of the Tree of life of Gods loving heart song of us all.

Being the softy that I am,
I feel sympathy for all those prisoners
On Death Row,
No matter what they’ve done.

But then I reflect that every one of us
Is also on Death Row.
Unless perhaps you are an ancient tree,
Or one of those jellyfish
Who regenerates like Doctor Who.

For Death is inevitable
The moment we are conceived.
I look for ways around this
And only see
An ocean
Of Religious and Spiritual
Speculation.

Paul Butters

I long to gaze upon your rugged beauty
Magnificent as you rise up
From soft flowing valleys
To collide with the clouds
Slate coloured eyes
Surveying everything beneath you
Dangerously calling me to conquer

I long to swim in your energy
Caught up in the waves of your emotion
Intoxicated by your ebb and flow
My sanity lost in your cadence
Throbbing in your tide
Adrift in the moment as you propel me
Back against the rocks

I long to lose myself in your radiance
As you hang suspended in a sea of stars
Calling lovers to worship
Powerless to resist your temptation
Assaulting my senses with romantic whimsy
Knowing that this soul awakening
Will soon cease to exist

I long to climb in your nakedness
Your skin rough against mine as I ascend skywards
Balancing on sunbeams
A vision caught in stillness
Stripped of colour
Waiting to be reborn
As Spring slowly warms our limbs

I long to watch you break free again
Flower heads bursting through cold cracked earth
Invading my wasteland with exquisite provocation
Observing from a distance
A future that could be
Captured in a heartbeat

I long to feel alive, rekindled, empowered
I long to smoulder in the flame of your eyes
Drown in a waterfall of passion
Soar like an eagle released from agony
Rising in ecstasy  
Knowing my fall will be softy broken

Lovelonging

I          Long          For          Love

(C) Pixievic 2016

touch my unmealed body like a holocaust joke
how many minds does it take to ***** in a
light-bulb - - - one if they've got an idea !

touch my unmealed body like a genocide
survivorman kommandant ki(ll)ss me so
softy directly to the lips he's a sly one, a
little flirtatious and can i blame him he's
got victims up the ying yang darkbright
why would he choose me for the camp
nap eternal?

touch my unmealed body like a holocaust joke
touch my unmealed body - - - make me drop t
he soap so i know what it is to lean in love as
you grab me - - won't fall won't fall i'm yours
as you yonder and ponder and make my insides
collapse with what god endowed as gify measure

but you save me, so I lean in love and i do not
fall
u grab me like a lover, slap me like a brother,
speak softly like a mother - - now you smother
and you smother and you smother but you save
me, so I lean in love and do not fall

so I lean in love and do not fall

so I lean in love and do not *fall