Mountains,
roiling across,
just as sea tempests toss'd.
Frost'd froth on brackish peaks churn
the sky.
Apr 4, 2020
Apr 4, 2020 at 1:04 PM UTC
Explore,
To see and grow.
Being forever true,
To hearts wind-chimed as such as mine
Today.
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 6:08 PM UTC
Beatings, lies, abandonment and hunger,
all alone, I lusted yet lost a love.
Once forlorn, there came to me one answer.
Lies, ruin, demise and my end thereof.
To me an angel came, and Love's desire,
whom renewed within me long lost passion.
Yet, tempest calmed, lust and fear sparked a pyre,
raging through our rose-kisses turned ashen.
Love comes and goes, in all its forms, this time
finding us in kindred pain and shadows.
We made love through our demons, losing spine
as we could not be more than our past woes.
Yet through it all, four loves gained and more;
entwined in the divine of yore threescore!
Nov 3, 2019
Nov 3, 2019 at 9:18 PM UTC
Whisper your soul through my veins
so that as it advances
with God and eternity, the Cosmos, and stardust
around, around, around
the dendritic network shines as many lighthouses,
for the shadows to retire
and virtues flourish.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 9:49 PM UTC
Today I live in a life that does fight,
in love, and hate, for a resolution;
what is humanity? Revolution
tinkers a vestige. “There people, the light!”
With a glance we seem glorious. The night
reveals a different image; the Sun
of Plato does set. Man’s transformation
has not yet stopped, despite all our massed might.
Like that Creature Shelly’s fear concocted
we, being not human, grapple today
with all our parts. Mankind is an ideal
that Creatures need. I, exonerated,
am not a human yet, and oh! do pray
the Creature that is me unlocks soul’s seal.
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
Just as quickly Catullus met
his fantasy and despaired,
and a thousand-hundred kisses
became irredeemable.
The fool fell for the folly
of a sparrow; Taibhsear
fell from the wisdom of a
raven.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
Was it a mistake to cup your breast
that day,
just like you wanted me to?
I feared who you were. That
is why I could not
go further.
To me it would be like Love
******* Love doesn't ****
Or so I
thought.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 8:24 AM UTC
A heart has many loves, but
few passions. A few have
love for my heart.
They wait in their harbors
as my ship's sails are
ragged and I am lost
at sea.
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 7:57 AM UTC
Man's literature surveys the landscape of
life with such care that
the passionate man is merely a
caricature of innumerable minds.
The self-created man is as such
according to the connections of his own
experience to that of the volumes
adorning the world's shelves.
Mine eyes of passion are the reincarnation
of the angel Edmund Dantès; anguish
the respondent ripple of the Creature born in
Ingolstadt. Burns teaches humility
as Boethius the ambitions of Lady Fortune, both
under the whims of fleshly confinement.
To bear further testament, Nabokov
brands the sublimity of the individual as
the lost, old soul Taibhsear
calls Love out on the street holding the name
not of his greatest desire but that of her's.
Eons hold the grandest wealth that is the build-up
of the "drops in the ocean" that
are the whims of man and his
written word.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:17 PM UTC
Grab it dearest, feel the power of
My soul beneath your fingertips. I will
Cleanse your spite, the vile decorating
The map-work of our Mother’s creation.
Fear not the whims of shadows and spells.
Through the radiance of emotion
The soul swipes clean the slate of mistakes,
Marks, and circumstantial torture. Go ahead
And wrap a portion of God so warm it
Masks the scars of the Lost and Wounded.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 7:35 PM UTC