He didn't want one at all.
His parents told him he needed one.
His friends told him he never had one.
"A lover?" he chuckles, "I abolish the siren's call!"

Years pass.
He lives on entertainment and work alone.
One day, he witnesses a theft; he thinks it crass.
A pursuit begins and into the skies, how high he has flown.
He nabs the thief, retrieves the pearl, and to the girl he doth go.
Reclaiming the treasure, her eyes alight, she delights in the victory.
"Thank you!" away she walks, tears from her eyes flow.
He knows not her name, or the nature of the game's history.

Days bass by.
He remembers the smile, the warmth of her heart, the passion.
He packs his things: home, family, work, friends, "Goodbye!"
He tracks her down, "I brought you honor," he's not done,
"Lady, I will bring you love every day, every hour, every moment,
If you but make me feel as you did before!"
Has a man ever before made this promise? She muses of endearment.
"I know not what I did, not that it matters anymore,
For what you have said, in my heart, has opened a door."

That feeling again! What feeling was this?
An agent of bliss? A love carrier's kiss...
He would not abandon her,
Lest things return to what they were.

The first year was quiet, riddled with passion,
Love-making, for each day, there was a limitless ration.
Yet a simmering day, cooking chaos and infamy,
Out of it was born a crook dripping with villainy.
He named himself... "Brute"
He thinks death is loot.
He collects it like a farmer consuming every shoot, every root.

Our hero did sense this, somehow he knew.
"What ails you?" she asks, "Just give me a clue."
"Our love is still strong," he notes, "But arounds us brews a bitter stew."
"What can be done?" she asks, "What must you do?"
"I must survey the lands, back to the place where I flew."
"My pearl, take it, if you die, I will mean nothing."
"Your pearl? For me? Surely not! A lie, you're bluffing."
"Take it my love, and remember me always,
When your heart aches, remember these good days."

He sighs and takes it, kisses her and flies,
There is one he will refuse to permit goodbyes.

Above the land he saw it, but his heart stopped short,
Because of dastardly things seen, horrors to report!
"No..." he moans, "Not on my watch!"
The villain had found his woman, a beauty to botch.

He flew down to their nest,
Clutching the pearl at her behest,
The clouds distorted his view,
Through them he aggressively flew,
But,
Before he could stop the end of this land,
Brute accomplished what he has planned.
"Love is no more! You were too slow to matter,
I'll drop her withered body! Hear her bones clatter..."
The hero sees the deed, but he understood her words,
Now that he has a piece of her, he can move onwards.

"Your villainy is strong, but you have not tempered destruction,
For you will soon meet, the power of my instruction."
Brute raised an eyebrow in amusement,
Is this man a cow? For I shall milk him into entombment!
His deathly gaze steady, the villain prepared his onslaught,
But our hero inhaled the clouds themselves, disturbing nature not,
"Clean up your mess Anthony, and never do this again!"
Hearing the voice of his long dead mother, Anthony, (Brute not),
Did as he was told never approaching another sin.

Our hero knelt beside the remains of his lover,
He let his tears wash her bones, for he loved her like no other.
He took the pearl that she had given him,
Pressed it into her skeletal palm on a whim.
Lo and behold!
Life seized her corpse like a gust of wind.
Embracing each other, true love they uphold.
Through them, again, the human race may begin.

Revolutions are born of feverish desire.

"EXILE"
Somehow, they're all gone...
Darkness shrouds hope like hunger...
Hunger for revenge.

"SEARCHING"
My eyes seek the truth...
In all the dust, I found lies...
In thirst, I found death.

"FOREVER FORLORN"
Boat by water's edge...
Floating upon forgotten...
Void is our water.

In times of need,
we bleed and plead
for better days
and to be freed.

I'm losing sleep,
oh, how thorns reap,
I'm that flat tire,
I'm what roads keep.

I'll rust away,
become home to nothing,
and in my stead,
the mice will play.

A resurrection
of sanity's election.
I'll live again
in times of need.

Some days, only sometimes,
I crawl outside myself,
To wander the world's wonders,
Peering through it, like a shelf.

I walk the narrow road's way.
Whisper, wispy, thin lies,
To lead those astray,
That don't see with their eyes.

Burning in the light of the moon.
My ethereal flesh is a sight to see,
To touch it is a mortal sin,
A taste would fill one with glee.

I am no mortal in this form.
I climb the highest height,
To know I cannot watch,
The ants, the world in fright.

May I spread my wings of burden?
Go where I am not wanted,
To fill the world with fallacies,
Mortify. Justify, the haunted.

Time has run out for me.
Dreams I can no longer pervade,
To paint pictures, 'pon pulsing skulls,
I hold a purgatory masquerade.

I must return to be full of myself.
As I watch the thick skinned carcass sleep,
To know that what I am,
Is a troubled man, pathetically counting sheep.

This love was an answer,
a resolution in the blackest night,
a shrieking of delight,
a temperance of fear,
the death of disillusionment.

Indeed, love is many things.
It is a whisper of perfection,
beckoning the emotions to supernova,
to hold the reigns and throw them,
into the abyss of pleasure,
shouting into the void,
"Take my control!"
so that we languish in security,
sipping the knot of kinship.

Love is a smooth, soft, brush,
upon the lips, tickling away,
bruises of bitterness,
fortresses of fear,
agreements of anger,
lists of loss,
pits of pettiness;
Yes, yes, yes,
love is a cure.

It is injected into the heart,
of a soul reaching for purity,
a soul reaching for hope,
warmth, and good weather.

Love is that white sanded beach.
It awaits outside your window.
The gulls beckon, flying patterns,
across the shimmering sky.
Clouds form all your favorite shapes.
The water is warm,
"Come in," love says.

I walk that shore sometimes.
I write to you from that shore.
Walk with me.

My old darling, she sighed,
as she relinquished my affections
roses and keepsakes,
delicacies and carnal delights.

Your pining weighs heavy,
she whispered in fatigue,
I cannot bear your sorrows
as I kiss you goodbye.

Holding my slack-jawed chin, she smiles,
this will be the last time,
for there is a world to see
that's bigger than you...

Her kisses needle
like the deathly caress of winter.
Her lustful embrace
like the coils of a python.
Even inside she is jagged and unforgiving
as is a cave sought out in desperation
discovered to be the abode of a black bear.

Yet I need her.

I cannot let her go.
I insist, take from me my skin,
my soul.
Whatever you need to stay warm.
Whatever will cover your hollow form.
If I should shiver, it is in my fear of your abandon.
If I should cry, it is the milk upon which you shall suckle.
If I should die, it is only that you may feast.
But please,
let it not be the last time...

Is it mortal anger that you desire?
Do you crave wrath in its divine fervor?!

Is it a devil may care grin you favor?
Do you lust for my cold shoulder, akin to tundras and the endless expanse of space?

It'll be fine, she says,
there are plenty more fish in the sea.
Fish for you.
Fish for me.

The last time!
I bellow,
any moment could be our last!
Any breath can become a rasping choke for life!
Any midnight stroll could turn you into roadkill!
Any night of the soul could be your last grip upon sanity!

Any romance can become a suicide.

Any last time could be your last time alive.

You say it's the last time?
Then our love is surely dead,
and I am that ghost wandering in those halls,
looking for you,
calling out in vain,
for you have moved on to the after life.
After us.

Last time?
I guess there's a first time for everything,
even the end.

Charging through
the open mind
where we find
the clos-ed heart
touching fragments
is where we start.

Answers lost in open books.
Lovers lost.
Are they crooks?

Chasing passions
though the air
from the ground
they've sprouted bare.
We paint them with our tongues alive
and wonder why they quietly thrive.
When we lose them,
we go numb
found not even
by opposable thumb.

Changing clothes:
easy enough.
When "we" claim change
they call our bluff.
To change we must not be the same.
Not impossible
if we act right to blame.
Responsibility must be the wires,
that guide us though,
what negatively transpires.

These fragments
and many more.
Blows to come there are in store,
but swept are shards
of broken life
a better person to become
forgiven strife.

Cast away into higher hands,
thrown away the world's demands.
It's true what they say,
you sow what you reap,
but in this story,
there's blissful sleep.

Often, these dreams pierce the veil,
between sadness and bliss.
Armies cross
bliss is defenseless
I wake up cold

My steps feel the weight of the stone floor
out to the window, my dreams take me…
Even awake, dreams command my vision.

The world is blind to me and I am blind to the world.
They do not bear my dreams and I do not know their torment.

If they knew my dreams,
they would carry me forward
hands on my hand
we move the bricks together
sight for sight
blindness for blindness
dreams for truth

The strange warmth of fellowship fades in loneliness,
as if it were antidote… or poison.
Still, the memories linger
sparking
yearning to blaze
but they cannot provide warmth
for they are dreams
and fires must feed on flesh.

The armies continue to pour
from somberness into bliss
the fires wink out softly
my eyes dull; my dreams fade.

And for once, I see what they all saw…

Darkness.

I came into this world empty,
Was summarily by darkness filled,
So I imbibed merrily,
Hoping that despair is killed.

The darkness soaked through,
Until my skin was coal,
Aflame a burning blue,
Evidence of aching soul.

Along came a lady,
A bucket and rag,
"Can you save me?"
Her face didn't sag.

Scrub here,
Scrub there.
"No fear,
No care,"
She says.
I say,
"God loves,
This way."

The soap soaked through,
My dire straits crooked,
I'm the tamed shrew,
No matter how you look it.

So clean inside and clean without,
Without the darkness in my snout,
I breathe easy, an air so sweet,
So glad of the lady's meet.

I still remember the bubbles,
When the darkness met its end.
If there were an ounce more of passion,
I wouldn't call her friend.

I’m struck
Struck, not by stubborn winds
nor seeping rain and bitter snow
I am struck by the audacity!
The audacity of life itself…

Grating insults hurled
middle fingers flashing like upturned fangs
sumptuous thighs, bare and glistening in the sunlight
heavy alcohol dripping off the cheeks.
Failed relationships,
I was bored so…
Isn’t that always the excuse,
as to why I can hear her
***** him
didn’t she know I’d be home?
Who cares.
It’s the audacity of life that bugs me,
because,
the simple answer, with every infraction,
is,
I do so, because I am.
Now leave me be.

But I know they know it can't be that simple.
They're all the 29th round boxer fighting a shadow:
an unyielding mass of darkness
chained to our souls
occupying no more than the air itself
yet heavy as the bedrock of hell
deep and destructive.

I've seen these shadows break a man.
I was that man.
So I tremble at the audacity of life.
Wherein the puppet manipulates the master.
Wherein the blind see more than the visionary.
Wherein the beggar is imbued with purpose,
and the money mogul strips his vassals of soul and sympathy.

Yes, and I have the audacity to write this,
like I give a ****,
when I'm just like you.
Another day...
Another dollar...

Like an anthill I was, at birth.
The sprouting of a tree not yet mighty.
The trickle of a river not yet strong,
but within my mind were dreams.

I thought to myself...
When will I flow?

Every touch,
every word,
every color,
every note,
every taste,
was another grain,
another pebble,
another boulder,
another hill,
another expansion to my range of view.
And though I could yet call myself a mountain.
Though streams wove their ways from my eyes,
fresh springs of tender breaths,
trees rooted deep enough to whistle in the wind,
thoughts beginning to form,
I still spoke the words,
“When will I flow?”

I caressed the clouds and their silvery charm,
hugging my neck, like heavenly trinkets,
a beard of trees splayed down my chest and back, like emerald robe
and
ah,
rivers, splashing and bubbling and whooshing and running,
like naked children tumbling down from innocence,
giggling all the way
until they learn that the world hungers for blood.
The clouds at my neck are a vice at my fury.
They blacken like mists of soot
and crackle and moan.
They roar and spit fire upon the earth.
A tree splits and becomes a beacon of wrath, a torch
setting other trees aflame.
Oh, all nature is the same.
There is a time for peace and for war.
But when the flames settle.
When my skin is charred and creviced.
Then sprouts the green fingers of spring.

I am the mountain.
I command the seasons.
The winds are my whip.
The Earth is my chariot.
The clouds are my helm
and lightning my sword.
Guardian or warlord?
Lover or slaver?
Is it an illusion?
Am I at the whim of the seasons?
Does man define my beauty?

Thence comes the answer.
I flow.
I once flowed into me,
Growing strong, I was the mountain,
But the flow is leaving me now.
What leaves me is what I can do without.
The flow becomes my power.
In dying, I gain control.
Strong is my pen,
my word masters the sword
and
for every beginning
there is an end.

The daughter forgot the nest.
She left it, fading in memory,
Until memory washed away,
Like footprints on the shore.

Out of the deadly ocean we call life,
She found the shore,
And seeing her mother still nesting,
She made new footprints.

My daughter, mother sings delighted,
My love for you is boundless.
My heart breaks with every glimmer of you:
You left before you could hatch;
You existed before laid for birth.
You have never known my love:
What did the world teach you?

I know your love, daughter haughtily grumbled,
Love is passion:
It divides pleasure and pain;
It conquers war and ministers peace;
It imprisons hate and waylays death.

Oh, mother simpered,
Sorrow burrowing in her expression,
Not abating when she spoke:
Daughter why are you so bitter?

Aghast, daughter saw betrayal in,
Mother's skin and bones:
Me? Bitter? You don't know me!

Mother shifted her weight,
Letting her gentle warmth,
Embrace her sleeping children equally:
I know you through your beliefs,
And you don't know love,
Because you live the lives,
Of lies, and tricks,
Hate and war.
You think you are right, because,
You assembled fragments of truths;
See here, I have the whole picture.

Summoning her deepest conviction,
Mother spoke from her heart:
Love unites pain and pleasure,
Because pain teaches,
And pleasure rewards;
Pain directs,
And pleasure roots;
If they don't work together,
We are utterly lost.

Mother sang her words,
Like a symphony of beauty:
Love,
Misguided love,
Sows wars,
As easily as it ministers peace,
But hate ignites war because,
We imprison our hate,
Instead of letting it go free,
And replacing hate,
With love.
Hate imprisoned,
Is a monster,
Snarling in the cage,
Luring bystanders,
That it may be set free.

Mother's song was a tempest,
Rattling the trees,
Sweeping the forest floor,
Carrying the clouds,
She sang with purpose:
Love does not waylay death,
Love is death,
Love is the death of hate,
War, and sin,
But it must be true love.

True love? Daughter despaired.

Mother's song quieted,
An eerie echo in the wake,
Of the song's crescendo:
Love is not passion,
Love is peace.

Daughter's eyes showed defiance.

Mother's song settled to soft steps,
Like water drops gleefully,
Jumping from trees:
You don't believe me,
Because you don't know love...

Daughter turned her head,
To look at the setting sun,
Storm clouds of dissent,
Brewing in her mind,
And there she saw it!

The setting of the sun...
The sun allows itself to die,
Assured that it will,
Be born again in morning.
The moon and stars,
Mostly gone during day,
Yet night provides their,
Reigning.
Storms enrage the elements,
And destroy the founded,
But enrich the earth,
And scatter the seeds for new life.
Predators linger, lurk and listen,
Waiting to crawl, catch, ****!
Yet even they must,
Protect and raise their children,
Because there is a time,
For weakness...
For strength...
For death...
For life...

Daughter turned back to mother:
May I shelter my siblings?

Mother smiled:
Now you know...
Love is in the embrace.

Before summer,
Siblings hatched,
Marveling at their sister,
Big, and strong,
In heart and stature.
When they learned to fly,
They flew with her.
When she died,
They laid her to rest,
And mother, too.

If love is not taught,
To willing ears,
It is wasted,
Like water through,
Open hands.

If your wings,
Tire from love,
Know this:
Love rewards,
For love commands peace,
pleasure, pain, hate,
Yes...
Even death.

Love commands.

On the stage I took with pride,
I had seven notes to sing.
With passion they couldn't deride,
My voice was marveled for its ring.

The first was dealt with gusto,
The winds did chime and blow!
The second stunned them, lo'!
An excitement I did not know.

A trio and quartet resound,
When the fifth did make a sound.
The sixth went gracefully hollow,
The seventh took a great bound.

Now hear, all septet of voices;
Didst I bellow to great rejoices?
For when I woke, darest I croak,
Laughter; for my dreams were a family joke.

traces of your beauty
reflected in the isle of my dreams
I float on the waters of duty
I'm as loyal as your conscience deems

lost in the pearls of your worth
I escape the madness of greed
in all the green and quenching earth
love: the most powerful seed

out of its bud grows the universe
so many, unfurling wonders from beyond
stepping into them I see your shame
trapped in your festering pond

but each stride out of your mire
is a height conquering sickness and death
time spent favoring wholesome desire
makes one full of promulgating breath

yet still the climb is vicious
tricky traps and trapping tricks abound
at times it will make you listless
other times it is glory's sound

in the end, there is no end
a thirst for silence, a forgotten friend
in thine tireless hour of  magnitude
it is the breath of hope you defend

I am not enslaved.
I'm ignored by the misbehaved.
Those with a lust for power,
Spoke my name, in your darkest hour.
To convince you that I am malformed.
To provide for you a view deformed.
And you took that view,
Discarding what you childishly knew,
For what you were told was adult.
Hate is the name of that view,
Hate is an all-consuming cult,
Unrepentant of its ways,
Marking the many days,
Until it can say that when you and they wilt,
It's your fault.
Or mine.
For when,
When I am absent,
Like a working parent,
ONE thing is apparent:
When I return,
Love is heaven-sent.

Come here you
you blemish,
you sore.
I know that you
are hell's one door!
When you appear
I settle score.
Missed dates spawned you...
I pour insult upon you!
I finger you like a baseball
nay, like a fetid fruit.
I squeeze you
you'd only hope tenderly.
I twist you,
pull you
smash you,
rule you.
Oh you will break,
no other has not.
I attack you,
maim you,
without thought.
For thine art mine
true enemy.
They blame me
for you
you entity,
protruding from
my supple face
that youth has purchased
at quickened pace.
From the deep,
that change is found.
Like magma,
**** will soon be found!
Careening forth,
exploding there!
I mop you up
with new
gentle care.
For the crevice left
in the wake
of your death,
will be mourned over
with bated breath.
For thou art mine
true enemy.
Now, maybe that girl
will be friends with me.

I've been in love with polishing all of my life,
Polishing trophies, my car, the skin of my wife,
But one day these things looked dim to me,
So I polished with abandon to set myself free!

Behold the splendor, the wonder and fame!
Beyond beauty, I've polished the frame...
I'm known for the gold in every corner,
Even my wife's smile: a littler warmer.

Tell me why I have this charm...
Two more brides on each smooth arm.
More of this and I will win!
In the light of all my wonder, I failed to see,
The chipping facade of my first wife's grin.

Yes, world, yes, I am the king,
there is no end to the wonders I bring!
I am Midas and gold is my soul!
You'll be rich forever!
Even without a soul.

My wife, what gives, where is your luster?
I wax here and wax there; I begin to fluster.
The dimness lingers, its shadow greater,
Now of my wife I am a h8er.

The dimness seems to have caught me too,
I see it spreading relentlessly,
All my work reduced to... poo,
Yes, this is a new test for me,
For my eighth wonder, I'll start with you.

scrub
scrub
scrub
Do you feel that now?
scrub
Doesn't seem to be working does it?
Just like that, seems I've lost my budget!
I wish things would stay polished at my wishes,
I'll abandon it all like discarded dishes.

The dimness is scratching at my very soul!
And, here I thought that I was on a roll...
No toilet paper can clean this mess,
so to the fire at my behest!

It all goes into the fiery cell,
Am I rusting? Then me as well!

We'll all burn if we worship greed and money,
And you thought the ending would be funny...

I'm leaving it up
to somebody else.
The battle scars
are notched on my belt.

Come take my wounds,
I'll leave burdens behind.
I'll shut myself in
and close the blinds.

I didn't know there was a battle
that could be fought within
against the weight of
despair
and the fires of sin.

The kindles of hope,
the ladders of strength,
tested by life
and its brittle length.

Just lay me to rest
where I
unsheathed the sword
come strike me down
in absence
of the Lord.

I'm seeking the peace
that I struck to p.i.e.c.e.s,
that I replaced with pleasure
and its demanding releases.

When you're broken down
and I'm broken in kind,
let's give up the fight
and leave burdens behind.

It'll all crumble,
the world and the sword,
and we will all mumble,
eternally
ignored;
for sinners will stumble,
in sight of the Lord.

When does,
the cobra strike?
When it deigns so?
No...
The cobra strikes when you...
Flee!

Parade before it.
Drink your fill,
and a little more...
Be merry,
that it knows its greatest weapon,
is laughing stock.

The moon anchors the night
fantasies take flight
there's carnal delight
in the carnival tonight

I climb the wide stairs
I draw all the stares
I think no one cares
about my heart,
but they love my cologne
fresh as ocean air

There she is
a lady...
beware!
Her eyes like windows
fall through if
you dare
I do, yes, I do
I pace pulsing floor
the music like thunder
yet still, I want more

First it's her lips
taught on my neck
where were my hands...
How could I forget?
Enraptured, entombed
the blissful consumed
the madness
the pleasure
What were we?
Together!

There was no goodbye
I could see no end
Who is she now?
A lover? A friend?
I will never know
We'll soon be forgotten
Give it ten years
Passion's fruits now rotten
Yet on that night
She winks, see you later
My heart on her platter,
she could be a gator...

I tremble violently
the spirits dine with me
a feast of illusions break me
because sleep is a memory.

When did I last sleep
grains of sand ne'er grace my eyes
never caked with desert lullabies
So dry, I can barely weep.

I don't remember what nightmares are
and though dreams haunt me
I don't know where they are
they're neither near nor far.

I've been awake so long I'm twice my age
I'm so tired I cannot even call on rage
Lust lies asleep while I watch it slumber
Hunger feeds on itself in a sightless umbra.

There are times when the astral planes call me
I stumble, my eyes droop, I feel heavy
It's like I'm embalming, passing into shadow
But I must continue to work, for I am a slave.

Some day I will sleep and I may never wake.
Such waking would be a second birth, fit for a cake.
How many candles would adorn this pastry?
I don't give a hoot, so long as it's tasty.

“WOUND”

Tool roughly sows force…

Searing flesh calls out like babe…

Like babe, flesh is nursed.

“HEALING”

Time gently sews wound…

Body, like God over germs…

Fools they are, or were.

“SCAR”

Fate has sealed breach…

Man reaps good of ill matters…

Proof of battle fades.

I just need attention,
Love and its invention.
Sanity on the rocks,
I seize with supervision.
Ice cold to the touch,
Her ******* in my clutch,
I love it so much,
But I'm frostbitten it's such,
A beautiful thing.

This joy is one to have.
This joy is one to know.
This joy was once a calf,
Into ox it soon will grow.

I've made up my mind about darkness,
And made it up about the light as well,
So when the darkness wears a dress,
Although it hurts, I'll send it to jail.

My heart won't pine for lust,
Its silver sheen won't rust,
Its daggered teeth won't injure,
Its pretty mouth won't whimper,
But when it's had enough drink,
Of the nonsense in this life,
It will spread irrepressible joy,
Knowledge of God not strife.

Exalted by grand design,
Smooth effervescent wine,
Wash me and age my skin,
Don't torment me from within,
Don't ferment my dying sin,
Just mummify my yesterday,
So in the bask of tomorrow,
I may look upon it, with sorrow,
Bury my iniquities with the drugs,
Make the ground high,
And I upon it fly,
Looking down only to say,
"Goodbye."
To a world, since flooding,
Dry.