someday it will be willed (have I told you lately that I love you?)

that the poetry ceases,
no more birthdays notated
calendar closed, the ***’s axed,
kitchen junk drawer, a consignment store,
no longer needed, the futility of saving
knickknacks, maximized, the no lasting
value proposition, realized, eulogized.

pictures of beautiful automobiles,
decorated with beautiful women,
will forever be last year’s models,
one calendar too far, not long enough

no more of

have I told you lately that I love you?

wrote you plenty love poems so, hereafter,
you won’t be bereft, left farklempt,
arranged one-a-day, on a timed delay,
so many more that will appear in your
inbox until you too, no longer choose open it.

no more “sirprising” I love you statements,
taped to the milk carton, it was so willed,
the daily counting, record keeping, who first,
how many, secretly added to a grocery list,
in stuff that was so beloved, exasperating,
making you just right amount of crazy, smiling....
someday it will be willed, so,


here’s the first of many more....

I'm not gonna ask why.
But maybe you're also looking for a way for you to see each other. Maybe it's not just his actions that showed he misses you. Maybe you wanted him, too.
You already know it's a fill-in pleasure. When there's a chance to meet, you will take it. You steal moments that shouldn't be. But never think about the one that is always there for you. The one who is waiting for you to come home and show you love unconditionally. He doesn' t have an idea how you've lied about those stolen moments with someone who just steal moments too.
I hope you'll feel his heart breaking every time your lips touch your other man's lips. I hope you'll hear his crying every time you push those legs on your other man's body. I hope you'll see his ocean of tears every time you let the other man swim unto you.
I know you' ll part ways soon, but I hope you' ll know that you are already ruining his future relationship with your infidelity.
I adore you, but as a friend, I sometimes can't endure you.

we sail ahead
with sweet words on our lips,
and roses blooming in our heart.
our love comes and goes with the waves—
never fully escaping our awaiting mouths, nor
slipping through our brushing fingertips.
we're full of fear of repercussions, yet
a passion threatening to crack our
oh so precious facade.
yet that night as you cross the undefinable line
reached for my hands
pressed your lips to mine.
and just like that,

call me yours.

Memories I forgot long ago
Mother and I frolicking through a meadow

Hands held tight together, chained
Her soul in mine, preordained

Beautiful Rose columns entwined as a whole
Barren was my sole when I jumped
through that beautiful knoll

“Why would something so beautiful be so rough”?
“When you’re that beautiful you must be tough”. She said in rebuff

“Then how will I display my love to such Rose who keeps me at bay”?
“Those who truly love such Rose knows  how to portray, to keep away such unworthy prey”. She said in dismay

Young at age, yet such refined words gave my soul much to crave
Yonder I put that Rose, although there I’ll be each stage

Physically be with that Rose always you not
Paint that Rose with praise for all of days, not what you bought, or what you fought, no other gift will lift as such, naught

No other love will ever approach, nay can ever replace such love for a Rose or that of a mother
Naked is that Rose with no thorn, forlorn just as all of those, native is that Rose with no lover

Such a Rose must be protected from the worries of life that make life hectic
So let that Rose be, respect how it’s protected, your neglect may make its thorns as sharp as a knife, always stay connected

Vibrant as nature, diverse as life, different as you
Variety is a color many souls abuse, but can’t relate, taken for granted, but on the right canvas, creates the perfect madness. I’m familiar with the color, are you?

Life, as fickle as that Rose, more beautiful than those, but do not take lightly
Love, sweet as that Rose, everyone knows, or when you hold too tightly?

Keen was my mother as she patched me, pain in her eyes from what she’d seen. The growth of a son, oh so much to be done

Agony in her eyes, as strong as gasoline, sometimes life can be an arson
Alive as a being, potent as kerosene, pain is more than an action, it’s a person

Kiss she gave, as we laid. I slept in her lap, my soul wept. Not from the pain, from two souls, mother and son. I watched the Rose, I told her, “I felt your pain, I would do it again, please tell me, does that make us one...”?

Don’t confuse the two
Happiness and Love.
They usually go together
Hand-in-hand,
But they are not the same.

I can Love and still be miserable
I can be Happy and not Love
Ultimately,
Find someone who gives you both.
And you’re set
Now They can’t use you.

..and this is the reality 
    the darkest terror 
    the incomparable beauty
    yet life could never be an error--

    mystery absorbs me completely 
     calls for my humble surrender   
      all that is, is but ephemerality    
      even my most treasured endeavour