We shall dance
In the darkness,
When the moon is low in its brilliance
Allow our shadow less graces to advance
Amongst out figureless traces
Embrace what time won’t allow
Soon, we will dissolve into pleasures of romance
Tired from our mysterious ritual of instances.
Breathe your seducing treasures upon my
Sweet gracious fortitude of chaos
Torment my mind with limited words of affections
While I tease your persona with restricted symphonies of
Lyrical versus
Shall we remain wordless?
Dark roses fill our lungs
Singing mindless praises
Into the sweet alluring air of seduction
With no introduction
Mend back my broken art
As I repair your broken heart.
We struggle under our weight of
Hushed passions in rushed fashions
Fearing the passer bys will acknowledge our
Unorthodox orchestration of tempered frustrations.
I float on volcanoes
He wallows in nucleus graces
Featureless faces express a thousand rhetorical Bases
Words unknown to the English language…
Enveloped in bliss, sealed by your kiss
I miss the earth’s stable grounds
Waiting to depart from Venus,
The goddess of love calls my name
I ignore her, blue, holding my breath
In vain…
Quickly. Quickly
Swiftly. Swiftly
We paradise
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 7:03 AM UTC
It is Time to Sing the Blues
It is time to sing the blues
She whispered softly to the crowd
She with her eyes lowered to where her heart rest
Like the beige suit jacket hugging the backs of chairs
Chairs supporting the weight of jazz thirsty,
Trumpet eating, bass thumping, drum beating men,
Hungry for the texture of her caramel, brown skin, the tone of her
thighs under those two inches past high
sequined blue dress, Her deep hazeled eyes
blended in with the stage she stood,
back tangled and
bruised with darkened grey hues
her eyes were a mysterious
grin,
reflecting red tints of lights,
Dim,
Wrapped around the notes,
melodious harmonies
trapped within from the
Crown of her head
Right to the nail of her toes
She stands… waiting
It is time to sing the blues
She whispered softly to the crowd
Red velvet hats emancipated themselves
from the tops of the women’s head
They relaxed their spirits
their essence illuminates
her reflecting presence
Welcoming tides of high n pitched heavens
that they too would accept into their
emotional crevices
Her voice illustrated the beauty
Of their broken arts
They are freed from the
Restrictions and inhibitions
To be unseasoned
within their broken start
The chorus line, erupted from her soul
Trumpets blaring quietly, smooth rouges like wine
Every note found refuge in their glasses
they drank
The healing powers of her cries
The trombone emulated her growl
As she neared the ending of her solemn tune
She,
liberating these women and men
It was time to sing their blues
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 12:59 PM UTC
Weathered in Perfection
“Cinderella fairy lies and
Sleeping beauty poppy ****
She was never hesitant to ruin
The imagination of a faultless child
She, with four lines nesting above her brow
Brusque words caked upon her cheeks
In which she stored animosity and rage.
Crinkly lines of despair rested somewhere
Near her mouth, where frowns were often found
Screaming at the contentment in a stranger’s soul
She was battered by “death,”
Another name she gave to her husband
Years of porcelain affections
Shattered beyond repair
Her heart was frozen solid
The fluidity of her bitterness
Ran like The Mississippi River
She was pure in her hate for him
Until ten thousand smiles
Erupted from her face
Upon the news of his
Unpredictable death
71 yrs of marriage
Perfected in unhappiness
Would lead to her inevitable
Engagement to life
May 23, 2010
May 23, 2010 at 12:54 PM UTC
Dark Roses
Scarlet tears erodes silkweed faces
Emancipated anguish
Drips slowly
Shards of despair
Penetrates souls
Like thorns from this rosebush of grief
Laced with velvet silks of heartache
Mourning for morning to arise
In darkened crevices of hidden agony
Throbbing blood vessels ache for resolutions
Affliction pumping wildly through tamed veins
Airs of sorrow stagnant the lungs
Steadily reprising cycles of disappointments…
An array of flowerless bouquets
Sprinkled across immortal graves
Buried beneath shadow less rays
Softly, broken records play
Evaporated figures depart
She is broken
He, battered
Broken arts married to engagements
Years of porcelain affections shattered
Plastic cylinders await moistened palms
To dissipate the sting of desertion
One, five, seven or more
Will execute death for peace…
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 10:23 PM UTC
"Sorgente' " (Spring Waters)
I never knew tears could be so rough
Scratching my chest as if trying
To climb in, next to my heart.
Perhaps they would be more comfortable together,
able to fathom what my mind won’t.
I see the pain clawing on his face-
Engraved
like the tombstone we picked out for him
a couple of days ago.
All it was missing was a date…
Date the waters, watch how time will freeze them over.
Frozen in time, their memory awaits our remembrance.
It was only yesterday that we took a traditional dive
In the glistening, silkened
Waters-kissed the base
of that cold, slippery precipice. But we were gazelles that
early spring. The Impalelies and Witbietou flowers
Met rowdy cheeks and our seasoned grace.
We were Eagles, soaring to gather our prey.
Plop! To the crust of the water’s earth,
we dived uncharacteristically.
Characteristically- I, resurfaced.
You touched the Sun and the Moon that morning.
You called on God and His Son, Jesus Christ.
You said a prayer to Buddha and Indian goddess Indrani.
You kissed the fragrant air of the Jacaranda tree,
and consumed the fate of the Great Julius Caesar.
Makeda and Zulu King Catewayo,
cried in Imhotep’s arms that morning,
Tears beat upon the Djembe drum
Performing Indonesian Gamelan
We chanted the words- spero
Here I sit,
there, next to you
wondering when our eyes will meet
again.
Wondering how long you will play this game
of “who can hold their breath the longest.”
You are winning…I am crying.
My face is stained with your name,
your absent spirit, envelopes this hospital room
but your soul-
your soul will run, jump into the air,
And up there,
This time-
I will catch you.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 10:20 PM UTC