She's watching me
but she's never said a word
I know not her face
her touch
her aroma
I've only seen her eyes,
in the stars
for years
and I'll never know why,
her beauty claims the heavens
why,
her light cures the blind
and robs sight from the foolish
indeed,
I've stared too long
transfixed and fiendish, for just a taste
I would make love to her even if she has no body
I would kiss her splendor with my words
caress her aches with fragrant whispers
charm the bones of her imagination with tender glances
and consummate our bonding with admonitions of love.

I need no more than words
to know she loves me,
if she would but speak
yet she only stares...
Her smile is the constellations, I know
and her breath is the sigh of the sun
her arms are the rings of Saturn
and her ******* the moons of Jupiter
yet, I am but a man
I cannot make love to these things
so I pen this yearning,
bold
true...
Sitting under her, the Cosmos,
with passion, I enjoy the view.

Lo,
they hailed him
sweet in the fervor
trumpets murmur
triumph's pleasure
at
last
he said
the day is done
and judgment falls
upon the crown
that bore the sin
that bore their sin
that bore our sin
and cast it within
into the depths
of the hungry well
to drown in hell
to drown in hell
the sins they went
ne'er to return
and shut the well
amen,
the well

Lo,
they bid him molten praise
cast iron for his head
a new crown to wed
a new crown instead
for sin was cast away
into the well
into its hell
for sin is the devil
who tried and was not true
whose face was blue with envy
whose pride was green with shame,
and sin did waltz inside
like a prideful man to the gallows
for he takes his death with gladness
for his toils shall be put to rest
for his evils shall ne'er live again,
into the well, as well...
into its hell, do tell.

I saw the sins of man
become a squawking heron,
that claimed the bounds of heaven
and swallowed its own hubris instead
for heaven's beauty was a gift
so humbling
such bliss
the heron blazed with hellfire
and the hellfire was no more,
for there
a sun had shone
as if it never left
but the well did not know the sun,
and hell did not as well,
the sins and gallows hence
married their supper of crows
for carrion were they to themselves
manifold in its selfsame misery,
for misery sates misery,
and wrath sates wrath,
and pride sates pride,
and envy sates envy,
and lust sates lust,
and gluttony sates gluttony,
and greed sates greed,
but nothing sates the sun,
nothing sates the sun,
for the sun is sated of Himself,
for He eats of his own being,
to create for all creation,
infinitely into infinity,
the infinity of the sun,
for the sun is pure, and potent,
the sun is light, and grace,
the sun is mercy, and love,
the sun is forgiveness, and truth,
and these are the gifts of the sun to all.

These are the gifts of God by the sun.
And may it shine forever.
May the sun bless us all.

...gentle breezes
rung the wind chimes
of two hearts
pulsing
for freedom
chorused ecstacy
tickled
the goosepimples
of breathy lovers
caressing
their love-slick bodies
oil
of romance
dripped
sizzling
'pon the ground
of their windswept haven
their sighs
matched the melody
the hollow sighs
of our earth's lungs
for they
were the energy
sustaining
love
and giving atmosphere
to worlds
untold...

So pleasant was the weather
a summer spent together
she's *****-trapped with pleasure
sensations in great measure
To you, she was a treasure
but today there's nothing deader
than the tingles in your head or
the fantasy to wed her.

Tell me of her touch
like earthquakes in foreign lands
that you can feel between
your legs
like ocean water churning, churning
falling upon you when you're burning
from a sky so vast, it seems
that your dreams are pauper's dreams
She's like that same sky in the night
so dark... so bright
your eyes are alight
with infinity in sight
and you take a bite
of her honey cream thighs
you feel alone
and then she sighs
and you are responsible
it's like some living math
you plus her
in a bubbling bath
equals roiling memories
that cage as much as free,
freeze as much as warm.

What choice do we have?
Life is a choice of slave masters...
Be enslaved by love,
or dominated by hate:
either way, there's pain.
Either way, there's a rain so fierce
all the world is swept away,
but you and she, she and you,
you can never be erased,
for you are not earth and tree;
you are not river and rock;
you are spirit:
a thing proved unconquerable by death.

So, after life, when there is time to linger,
think upon the touch that tingles.
Heaven waits for all men,
each woman a
piece of
it.

Why can't I fly? Because, I am caged in the bowels of bitter, deceit.
Why can't I dance? Because, my body is bound to the gravity of unacceptable, honor.
Why, can't I sing? Because, my lungs are choked by this haute reservoir of insanity.

But, the Trapeze, artist...
The trapeze artist, climbs the ladder of awe, itself, and walks the silver lining of death.

Why can't I write? Because, my hands are bound in the filth of my past,
meddling with broken things.
Why can't I speak? Because, the honor I am bound to, is to live, life, behind closed windows.
Why can't I see? Because, the blindfolds that sheath my eyes from sin, are more sin than any satan incarnate.

But, the Trapeze, artist...
The trapeze artist, climbs the rungs of the narrow road, and walks over the pit of doom, to save itself.
There is no explanation for this act.

So, why can't I shout? Because, I am voiceless to the concerns of the audience.
Why can't I beg? Because, the world has no room for weakness, fear and more loss.
Why can't I scream? Because...
Because...

Because the Trapeze artist dropped off the high-strung ledge of wonders...
And plummeted into a darkness, that has robbed my audience, of all conscionable thought.

Because... the Trapeze artist, is dead.

So many hopes have
been laid to rest,
snuggling tight and cozy
where all dead dreams lie.

There wasn't even time to say goodbye.
Oh, my fighting spirit is now a sleeping spirit.
It doesn't wake to sweet smell of fancy,
to the buzzing of bees and all manner of honeys,
no.
It lies dead in the gutter,
or should I say,
asleep.

The only hope I have left, is to lie of the pain.
To wish away the wash of bitter taste
and lie away the bodies of thought and waste.
I have died too many times to count the carnage
and how I massacred myself,
past, present and future,
there is no more potential,
there is now just a rein
lying slack for lack of force,
the beast was too burdened...

There is a constant whispering.
Voices from a place I dare not venture.
My hands are bent and scarred, like twisted puppets.
How can I mend these broken dreams?
I can no longer traverse the seams,
now torn
beyond are the hopes I knew.
How do I mend the horses?

Is it not the hand of God that restores life
to dead things?
Why do his hands look like mine?
If I do not believe in myself,
how might I believe in him?

Spat out from the maw of carnage
slick with the battle's bile:
a coat of blood, black and foul
for war is hell and
hell the churning
chastening
chilling
gut
of a beast beyond reproach.

Yes, I was there...
I fought
for you
for your freedom
I fought so you could sin another
day
I fought so you could curse my
name
I fought so you could scorn your
savior
and wonder why it is I love,
you.
Tell me:
who is it that suffers greater?

The toil, is heavy
I lumber forward,
scars, like woodgrain, nest my body
I am born of battle
in my chest
my heart does rattle
empty
for there is no room for weakness.

I form pillars of truth and justice
I forge the righteous from
weakness, purpose
and all the
while
they grow
stronger conviction
in the unyielding dreams
that bolster all men from breaking.

Yet you lob laughter at my prophets
and greed is your only profit.
**** my champions
**** my children: men and women,
with your lust and lustre,
no matter,
for in recompense
for all your thoughtless vengeance,
I pay in kind...
Soon, you will envy,
the blind.

Have you ever doubted...
Lost in a searching grasp for
lies
only to be comforted by fear:
its rigid, creviced tongue
a jagged weapon
like an obsidian relic of barbarism
scrapes my skin
scratches my earlobe
it tries to find a way into my mind.

I have forgotten the taste of truth
like a babe fed by beasts
I grew strong
or so I thought.

I tried to carve my name
into the disc of the world
"Fool"
The world isn't flat,
but I am.
I fit into the cracks you think are safe.
I slip into your secrets.
I carved lines into the world until
the impenetrable layers of rock and tree
and sky and core
were but pages,
thinly veiled memories of lives we
once cherished.

I know you've forgotten the taste
of truth
because you feel my sorrow.
It is your tale I tell
and that is why
I feel so alone.

You are impenetrable
and when I see through you,
I don't see anything at all.

time forgot
the scars
the words
the open sesame
of my miseries
my contempt
for the irony,
of freely contrived romance

how her lips,
pressed against mine
became the toothed suckling
of her vampiric abandon
the sucrose of my affections and adorations of her
how she fed on my caresses and poetry
how she wounded my soul
bled me out of devotion, mercifully, with adultery
and in the coffin
where I lay
kosher, rigor mortus preserved, for her trophy cabinet
taxidermy of bloodmoon, post-******, post-disenchantment
if the coitus fits, the honeymoon was faked
how she planned it
bottled my tears for a dry day
lubricant for her tryst

for having faked it
so many times,
surely the ink has run dry
surely the letters were forged by faithlessness
my Hancock used,
to certify her authenticity,
against my imagination
the signature of my pleasures,
a wife's knowing,
turned to the devil's archives
my powers
turned to the dark
where my light
illuminated wonders untold
impossible
for a monkey has palms and thumb
but it builds not empires with feces
wherest, withal, man builds forests where monkeys swing

and I sung at her wedding
canary fleeing the coalmine, of debauchery,
"Speak now, or forever hold your peace."

hours ahead, the setting sun,
I spoke, and the world's light dimmed
that I should be beleaguered
20,000 leagues fatigued
taking my meager pay
how many times
can a heart break
beholding infidelity
a woman so treasured
if one should have
20,000 hearts, and 20 souls,
how many times
would the domino effect
produce domino displays
like rivers and waterfalls
seas and skies
mountains and snowfalls
lakes and ponds
oceans and mirages

I sung it all
for never shall I bear peace
in the sight of infidels
for they massacred love
in their ****** of my love
a thousand men took her
willingly, she walked
into the church mass
and let them have their way
to spite my face
to rend my heart open
with joyful, painful *******
and drain my heart of its love
in the pews
for the children's sake
to see the fraud of their father
that my blood be tears
and my tears be blood
I have no quench of my sorrows
I bleed ore
and cry thunders in the bellows of my torment
known never peace have I
though having supped of Nirvana
and forged heavens
from my joys abundant
I have been mad
and wasteful
surely
to weather myriad wicked adulteresses so
and still have peace in my breast
it
surely,
I profess
was never peace, but madness!

SURELY

and so,
that is why
it took time for my heart's breaking
for every ******
and every pulsing
of cave, to womb and back,
the journey of each sacrilege
of innocence
that generations
of children
have been metaphysically unborn

by such a fuckery

that worlds have been destroyed
before spawning from nebula

that lives have been destroyed and saved, both,
before needing salvation
before being endangered

that hope was undone, in need and dream,

that songs were unsung, and sung in their unsinging
before stories wrote their need to be shared
that bards would be unborn
before legends could prophesy this unholy merrymaking
befallen me
and I,
soft of heart and lung
could be drowned
in my keep
with nary a poppy seed
to sate
the breaking of water, in me, soft-hearted I be
that meteors
could shatter the stillnesses
of the surfaces of oceans, tempered as I,
and I,
as ice shattereth
and remain disparate, frozen in time,
I break, and continue, beyond need - beyond agony
beyond warmth that wets the rain to stir from sleep
beyond ice such that tears never dreamt of cold
to neither have walked the sky
such tears are dream itself
but
to dream of cavernous sorrows
mere
to satisfy the torture of things wished to be unknown
what madness could be avoided
though blessed be the avoiding
that there need be sorrows such that hells become heavens
and the devil become deserving of all the hells
due the death of Christ
that lucifer bear the scorn of all sinners
for all time
till time loses meaning
and joy becomes as vapor to lucifer
as vapor is to the vacuum of space
but a pebble in an ocean's wealth of nothing...

Therein, my wrath,
due all my torments, chronic as breath,
that my heart has become a vice
that empathy has become chastity belt
frostbite, my melanin price, cakes my fist
as I behold my gavel,
and judge all the ****** 1000-years before their deaths,
with such wisdoms, my rage knows not end
my fury knows not storms, in universes beholding their eternal gaits,
my fury cannot fathom taming,

that my heartache become a madness
that neither holiness nor love canst quell
save that nothing save me otherwise,
that I become married to,
nay,
that I BECOME love and holiness,
righteousness, too,
that my righteous wrath,
be spared annexation to evil,
that my vengeances be preserved
and mine enemies kept alive
in my everlasting joy
of what punisheth them,
eterally!

That I,
may be born celibate
before knowing my virginity
simply to inquire
ahead of custom and common ontological seeking
query women,
that they do still, without vanity,
utter the word, the sign, the force, the mind, the passion, "LOVE."

let alone perform it, that which it is I say,
a man's privilege to declare that he knoweth love,
and women darest have never had it,
yet they deign gave God's breath to their desires of love,
reified it
believed in it
let alone had faith in themselves that men died for their ******
that marriage be ****** by the succubus in God's heaven!

They'd dare!

take it, from me, in my offering,
that I would love her,
truly,
in earnest
and see her fed of love
as like water
like milk to a babe
or,
should she deign me less than a man
due my will to love her
should she deign herself queen without me,

whenever the moment strikes
she'll dare, on a whim,
part her legs
for any man
declaring himself "King."
though he be a vagrant,
a pauper, a louse, a street urchin,
with gold bullion cascading from his pockets
because I, dared declare, "I love her..."
that she should **** such a lecherous, maggot semened
cuckold of love who would bed her with envy of me
and joy of that envy sated
true joy in his ******* of my wife
for he sold his soul
to bed her
buy her
and found his purchase met faithfully
that he might, unfaithfully
unholily,
amuse her
dwell in her
due the purchase of womanhood
due the market prices many celebrate ****** by,
rather,
due the "Graces", the unlovable, evil, malice
the bloodied, rancid, defiled, arrogant ignorant, so-called
"love" exemplified, demonstrated primarily, of
a djinn, a monster, a fiend, a demon,
a devil, in fact,
so called:

SATAN

Rebellion isn't death-defying.
No, it is the scythe itself:
the keen edge of derision
sharpened by subversion,
tested by disadvantage.

Down with the patriarch
but if you can't beat him
join him
betray him
enslave him...
Never ask:
is he the problem?

Each patriarchy is a tower
of tradition;
each brick: another tower;
each cell: another tower,
imprisoning
dignities and dignitaries
of fairer facade or form?

Fair would mean equal
but no man is made equal,
so why debase to elevate
why elevate to debase?

Down with the patriarch!
His ways have blinded us.
He asks too much.
Let us remake him,
that relic of bygone era.

Is power not what it is...
to be human?
No, it is not.
Love is that identity.
It is the total pleasure
it is the pain elixir
it is hidden beyond greed.
Greed for control.

Freedom is not control
Freedom is comfort
for one, truthfully, is only
ever
not free
when one is in pain.

So yes, destroy the patriarch,
but
don't destroy the man.

My heart aches, to beat with the flow of time eternal. Not to count the seconds, but to know the passing. Death is only the beginning; life is only the moment. Pain unites them both. Pain severs, connects and furthermore brings balance to the lack of such. Heaven, a transcendent paradise above our placid river of life. Hell, the fire below our feet, churning the sands; boiling the water; raising the winds.

The earth aches, for at its core burns a love deeper than all the vast pools of knowledge itself. We overcome fear, to wade into the waters; to see beyond depth and know once again that time is master. Patience is key. Servitude is silence.

Rebellion is wrath. War is wrought from age. Age, an agent of time. Slowly stripping away all we are, until the flesh we know, is nothing but food for the ages to come. Time feeds on the worrier. War feeds on the warrior. Death feeds upon the devoted; ignorant of time and its tick, ******* the happiness out of the unknown. Positive presence is a blessing. Negative nihilism is a weight.

Be free of it. Be free of greed for gold and bottomless wonder.
Time, are the steps we make between seasons. Agents of peace.
The silence of space can never break its chains. Life is the same.

There were black shoes, black shadows
white cuffs, white clouds
black shirt, black boards
white belt, white butterflies

You tell me, your world is black and white,
but,
I ask you,
"Is that all I saw?"
What more, my dear pessimist, you jeer,

So, I say,
Well, of course,
there were blue skies, blue scorpions
white doves, white daffodils
red roses, red blooded hooligans

You tell me, typical American -
so patriotic,
you bleed the colors you fly,
and die draped in your pride,

but I see you
in your myopia,
your dull diatribe of patriotism

I understand you

you are blind to the mind of your soul
you only see
what I tell you
you only see
what you consume
you do not see
what is between
the slats
of your window

when they shut
you do not peek

when they open,
you imagine night has turned to day
when they close
you prepare your bed for the night
despite the noonday sun
you are a prisoner of shallow waters
drowning
while ankle deep
hollering
believing no one hears you
shrieking - how the world has changed!
unaware that the shores move
in ballroom dancer rhythms
sweeping back
and forth
along the bay
because the seas are alive
but you are standing still

not even the earth
beneath your feet
is still,
despite holding your entire reality
safely,
motherly,
in the insurmountable expanse
of its grasp

Yet, should the earth shake
and rock you
should the hurricane blow
and displace you
should the mountains tumble
and smother you
should the sky open its celestial gob
and expel you
should the mother open her subterranean maw,
and swallow you deep
deep
would you, deeply, care
that the possibility of it all
was an open invitation
a sealed letter
that was never
at your behest
to open
and display its contents

I, too,
have bequeathed upon you
a sealed invitation
to the worlds I paint
with these jigsaw vignettes we call words
and all
you had to do
was open the seams

not with a file

a file to cut the purse
the bounty
of the promised speech
no
I ask you
that you but pry open my soul
with curiosity
and peer within the tattered layers of my story
my lives
unlived & overwritten
letter by letter
slip in that noodle protracted by your pineal eye
and taste the essence of the realities
you have failed to purchase
that meander about the words you,
selectively,
chose to ignore
like the milk around alphabet cereal
or the broth around alphabet soup
or the fine-grained blank spaces
the parchment
the canvas of woe
around the words that comprise
a stack of divorce papers
or an exam
or the dread of a long-awaited raise...

Imagine,
for a moment
ignoring the obvious
the letters,
the sentences and paragraphs,
the divorce papers
the exam
the pay-bump,
and just look
at the parchment - the fine-grained,
thin sheet of sophistication

touch it
taste it, maybe,

run your hand along it
the surface of it
or the edge of it
***** your finger on the corner
slice your finger on the edge
the paper has a malice that invites
your masochism
curiosity is power
but also
despair
peer deeper

turn your head about
lower it, sideways
all
the
way
down, and
press your ear,
left or right
against the parchment
the paper
the papyrus
the product
hear its screams
the CHURN-CHUG-GGGHGGHHGRRRRR!!!
that chainsaw
like a thousand hatchets
splayed out
dancing on the circumference of
a taught merry-go-round of death
cutting into the mother
the father
the child
the tree
cutting it open
that it may be cut again
again
again
tormented
pulled apart
pulverized
tenderized
pulped
poured
pushed
pressed
preened
­glossed - maybe
matte - possibly
the choice is yours
harvest the living
for the living death of your divorce
your exam
your raise
massacre those families
not just the trees
the bears, the deer, and the little fox, too!

I'm green with envy,
thinking about all that potent pulp
coming your way
the smell of it
place yourself in its abundance
the smell of industry
its factories
academies of excellence
an office
a school
a registrar, magistrate, Corporate HQ,
the Pentagon, the Taj Mahal,
Big Ben,
the daily mail of any place where
the morning paper
is LAW
and
should this be the first time
you heard the screams
just imagine being a tree
coming to pay respects to your family
smell that death
as you creep in
watch
look about you
at the carcasses
strewn about
in neat, pedantic stacks labeled, A4, A3, letter,
fax or snail mail?

My world is plenty black & white
& white & red & blue,
but it's also got screams,
and the stench,
the carcasses of the forest's children
fit for your pleasure
to tear up,
chew up,
gum up with saliva
and shoot through a straw
into the neck of a fellow butcher
and laugh
laugh and snarl and howl and cackle

Laugh
because,
you never dared to kneel down
pay reverence to the
screams
in the parchment
you let the blinds close
you dared not peek through
you let yourself rot there
in the closet
of your mind
in the dark
and when I say, I'm sad,
you say,
"That *****."
You don't ask,
what's around the sadness,
what came before and what could after,
what's in the folds of sadness,
guilt, regret, and loneliness kneaded in

no,
you look at the sadness,
the dull blue,
and you say,
"Yeah,
that's blue alright,"
then you close your coffin
and go to sleep

whenever she's suspended
affixed
at the apex
of my mind'e eye,
she commands my attention

every breath
of hers
is the wind

tempests of life
unfurling
from her tender lips

'pon which
I run
a steady finger
tracing the grooves
of her supple
flesh
as she whispers
my name

her tongue flickers

tasting
the salt of my skin

fresh from the sea
where we first made love

where I carried her
from shore
to fresh water
to be cleansed
by healing waters
and leave the sea's poison
to the creatures
of the deep
the drunkards
of deepest sin

though time has passed
decades now, since then
I can still feel her
straddling my face
beneath
the running waters
silent
save her breaths
long & satisfied
every exhale
was purposeful

and where she lay
I remember
her legs
poised,
inviting

her expression, yearning

the world had passed away

gone, in the midst
of our rapture
and who
could have stopped us
anyway

I remember
my pride vanished
as hours
in my imagination
became minutes
in reality

I had never known
I could be
so weak

spent

how she took everything
I had to give

how she gave me
everything
I ever wanted

how no woman
has ever
given me one moment
as breathless
as a day spent
in love
from the pool
to the beach
to the shower

how no other woman
could trap me
in one room
for decades
and leave me there, waiting
with
no
regrets...

she was,
"catch of the century"
one in a ball game of,
a googolplex of pitches
and I catch her
every century
of love's timing
like,
    a meteor
          among meteors
                 riding the waves of
                         a supernova on the rim
             of the event horizon
        of our star-crossed fates
marks the spot
home base
we were in love
as earth and moon
in dance
in trance
in eternity
upon the thin ice of space
curling with the flows of time itself
we were the continuum of love
unfurling into dream
budding romances anew
like orchards
caskets of poetry
fermented odes of promise
     to one anther
uncorked,
every summer of our lips, entwined,
open to the experience of being
      conjoined between our hips, locked,
            and interlocking, for hours
              letting our waters flow up
        and
    down
                 stream
             past
the
           point of living
                  for the sake of sweat forbidding
panting breath
stealing motion from tiring
       treading life through rest
                we tread not flesh but the waters
of love itself
      drank from each other
             the secrets
of our love for each other
until none were had
and only that
                        which was truth, remained
and the secret was us, our love, and its fire
the passion aglow
in the magma chambers of the furnace being our future
calling us into the union of what was
      into the future of what could never be again
             that being, our
         loneliness,
                           our time apart, and our time together
                wed into our time
all our time was ours, as I lost myself to her
and she
              lost herself to me, and I forgot her
           as
               I could only remember myself
                            and she
in forgetting me,             could
                          remember       only herself
and I, in remembering myself, only knew her, my lover, herself
and she responded, "My love. I will never forget you..."
                                    "You are memory, and to forget you..."
is to no longer love her,
                                         and since
time has answered our yearning
for love need be deeper
than wood root
deeper than word
                                roots of iron would rust
                                and love needs air with water
                                iron would melt, forgetting itself
                                in the heat of such love betwixt us
                                envy would poison other lovers
                                so, worlds apart from other lovers
& their passions
we needed space and time
and the answer came, in that twilight of memory,
lost to the abandon of all life, we transpired the love of
all things other,
all things not us,
                 not we
                 not true love
I forgot, how her father beat her,
               when my touch, could enter her womb
               grasp her ovarian limbs
               and tell her mother she was safe with me
               and all her mothers became the song of letting go
               for my touch was that without harm
                                                       without sin
                     my touch was that which sought hope
                                       brought meal to her heart
                                       quilt to her nerves
                                       time to her wounds
                                       comfort to her fears
                and myself became distinct from all that be "men"
                                                           ­                    in her eyes
                                                            ­         glad, her heart became
                                                   her man I transcended all otherwise
                                          to be
                                                   the answer to her wanderlust
                                                      ­                                          for lovers
                                          I became her sole lover
                                                           ­       Only, was my name
                                     she was mine - already
                      and bound, as two wedding rings, became our roots
                      I knew her deepest pleasures,
                                                      ­   pain became my enemy
                                                           ­                     in her name,
                                                           ­                     my adversary
found love, in me, she had
and Love became our messenger,
                                         itself the tree, whose flesh was truth; us,
         whose bark was no animal speech,
                                       no madness compeled it
                                       no age marked its passage through time
only secrets of truth wound its coils of being
only truth spoke its limbs, chorused its fruit,
                   sighed its leaves in autumn
                                               chaste its death from winter
                                          its canopy was the spring
                                                     of all possibilities
and we were the plume of being
        the evergreen oasis of marriage,
                                                itself of our founding
                                                        ­      our purpose
                                                         ­            perfection
              eldritch in              cthulian tembre, our love,
                                 unsightly, in the eyes of
                                                              ­             hate's beholders
        the glare of the blindness unmasked
        their ignorances,
                                     absent of the light of knowing
                           truth absconded,
                           they were              set aflame by revelation
                   the rapture of guru, sage
                                            mystic, gnostic
                                            yogi, and all holies,
                                            suckling the fruit of
                                            mysteries long beheld
                                            at the foot of God Himself
                                            plucked from the tree of itself
                                                          ­                              the
                               ­                                                         understa­nding
itself, the wisdom granted, as if
                                                as if 't'were holy water,
                                                as if they wert gossamer cotton aflame
          no constitution for the raw love of wisdom itself
                no breath for humility
                     no peace for surrender, even, could they bear
the audacity, beheld in them, was them
all that
            was left
                          of shame
                                          transfixed, crucified, undone by experience
                          approaching, not of its arrival had they perished
             of its approach, unfit for the wisdom,
                                          in the understanding
                                          of our love had they cremated
                                                        ­                       in themselves
                                                      ­                         all hope for life
                                          they perished of their own futures
             and became the everliving of themselves
that no future beheld them, for the past
                                                            ­         became the limit
                                                           ­          of their potentials
             she and I became, that love untouchable
                                                     ­         imperishablee
                            even unto
                      us,
                           except in the perfect approach
                              hermeticized, canoes set as pyres
                                 where death goes to live
                                     we die by giving to life again
living anew in love
perfection, the price of being
and to fail, death again,
                    absolute, in failure,
                                     death be, my love, me
for adultery wouldst be, my silver bullet
due her, every moment
                she, the scorpion
                her tale, of another's bed,
                                                            ­ like Hailey's comet,
the shaft bore
                        in my soul
                        gored by weeping
                        my frailty, my honor sundered
                as Jericho, bore by powers untold
                but told, all the same,
                                                       she be my death,
                                                       my living be her demise
should faithlessness be her love
i be ******
                      till never I be
                                              in life
                                              never I
                                              be
for to breathe
is to live for love
and my breath
she taketh
in love,                 and surely
the I be                 dead
                              without her love, spent of breath is my life

                              for my life is her love
                   the death of our love
                   my life be undone
                                                   partake, of my grave
                                                           ­        my supper
                                                          ­         my last meal
                                                   when the fox
                                                             ­        was the hen
                                                             ­                       all along...

They ponder still, of the will, of the open book;
Better to be judged by cover, or by page, I await answer.

Foreign ink drops stain my words.
Eager notes scrawl my organs.
Passioned fingers, sweat my bonds; loose,
Like wings in the wind, my knowledge flies,
Unbridled.

They question more, the empty score, of the read bible;
Simpler to be believed, than misunderstood, agree?

Mumbling misfits, chant my contents in crazed ecstasy;
I made no commands, I wish for no harm;
I seek no justice, I want not blood, for fluid.
I wish for eyes and eyes alone.
Give it to me, these pleasures; alone.

They pass me down, the procession quick, and change me, day and night;
I am no babe, I need no milk for life, I have not mouth to feed, I need minds to seed.

The whispers they make in my presence,
behind closed doors is atrocious.
Do they ponder of me still,
to question my answers?
I care not, no more, for now, I am fractured.

For if you read, the broken pieces, the shards of my once reflective ode to wisdom;
You will gain naught but, an unbearable ache of the mind.

And were it not for the sun
would there be dream?
Would cloud cry upon the day?
I would find, you and I, slavishly cuddled ‘round dragon breath
and every sight would be for sore eyes, lest they be blind.
Every man would be a beggar.
Children cackle in the dark.
Women, free of childbirth, are instead consumed by the world.
Without the sun there is no age.
We are what we haven’t chosen to be.
This is what I see when you’re not with me.
Emptiness separating reality from understanding.
And I call to you.
And I call to you.
And I scream for you!
And I boil alive in the broth, my own anger...
Whatever I can cook up to feed the hunger that you inspire.
But
a peace shatters the storm.
A shaft of light jousts the gloom like heavenly charioteer.
What else could it be?
It is you, so long as you shine for me.

I loved you
as a thief
loves his secrets

buried you deep
where surface-level
lies
could hide you

I
wanted you
needed you
lost you
wanted you more
wanted you deeper
felt you
wanted you sorely
needy
I craved you
felt your lips
down my back
'tween my legs
on my soul
breathing into me
your spirit
your charm
your wit
your laughter

I'll never forget
your voice
the soothing grace
of how you felt
beneath me
in our dreams
in our living nightmare
of being alone
wanting
lying
falling asleep
in the arms of the ghosts
we've made
of each other...

I know what she wants, I know what she needs.
Without my banana, she no longer heeds.
She spits out all of my winter seeds,
Down the river and caught in the reeds.

Primitive urges and sophisticated boredom.
Too much mail, not enough cats to sort ‘em.
She wants parlor tricks, not whiskey *****.
She wants sweet nothings, no liquorice sticks.

She’s a snake charmer in plural disguise.
Her double standards will be your demise.
She wants handsome, tall, not short and wise.
She wants musclebound, no porridge thighs.

She’s not sure about that or puzzled about this.
She has her way and you’ll do anything for a kiss.
She wants you dead before she becomes a pumpkin.
Smart as you are, you don’t know what she’s thinkin’.

**** a spider for her, spy for her, same difference.
To see her happy you’ll spare no expense.
To see her mad, all you need is common sense,
And to return to the frog you were forth hence!

She wants a man, a boy I’ll forever be.
All the world’s dreams are lost to the sea.
She doesn’t know that men don’t exist anymore.
Neither do women, growing up is a forgotten chore.

By the stream, they sang
as the waters of life flowed
and what grew by the waters?

I ask myself this question daily.
Rancid gutters, stench of rotting responsibility
passing problems forward
generation by generation
until the backs of our grandchildren
snap under the weight.

Just look at us now
buckling
faltering
searching for truth for healing for salvation
like every generation before
and I must ask myself
where are the waters of life
and what songs would I sing were I to drink them?

I believe it in my heart
that our song would be every moment
a chorus of peace
a chorus of love
looking into each other's eyes
no hint of displeasure or bitterness
haunting memories looming no more
forgiveness a currency of champions, we
and I cannot shake the mirth of it
almost oppressive - the laughter
I drown in it
aching at the sides
at first wondering, "What's in this water?!"
Then making it my daily drink - liquor forgotten
My daily bread the love of those around
and my gift to them the same.

Such a dream.
Lying back, sorrow at the sheer distance of that vision,
I stare into the ceiling
watching the cobwebs flutter
the waning daylight calls me to rest my eyes
bury my day's burdens
give control over to the weightless, mindless veil of sleep...
yet I lay awake all night
fearing sleep
because the beauty of that dream still clung to my soul
and should I have slept
the dream would die
and my grandchildren would have nothing
but this crumbling world we're building
while they'd wonder if I ever dreamt.

They'd wonder if I were ever free.

I did dream. I did hope to be free.
I will make this dream a reality.
I will find the waters of life.
I will share it with you.
Even if it were just a drop,
it would be ours.
You, me, and everyone,
for a drop of life is worth worlds of love.

Theft I try to contemplate.
What is it that lingers,
On finger tips,
On stranger's lips.
What is mine, tell me when?

I shake the tingling weight.
Why is it, that desire,
On silver trinkets,
On breast couplets.
Hath lead me lost. In vain?

Who had it first? What god.
When is mine forever,
On eve of death,
On ****** unknown.
Who? That pleasure is beneath you.

Sooner or later, the trees die, the seas evaporate
Sooner or later, one life ends and another begins
Sooner the sun rises, and later, the sun sets

The sooner love begins, the later it dies

Once in a while, the ice melts and the weather changes
Once in a while, the gun fires, and the target evades
Once, in happiness I felt everlasting, it took a while to change

Once the end is nigh, love will only last a while

Just in case these words fail to reach their purpose
Just in case life is nothing but a passing, but hopeful dream
Just in case death is a journey to a better place

Just listen, and in case you don't reach the end, in time you will smile

Because maybe there's an answer to the mysteries of the world
Because maybe there's a silver lining to every hopeless existence
Because the sun will set later then maybe you can hope to imagine

Maybe, there's more to love than the nightmare that persists

Sooner or later, once in a while you will have happiness everlasting
But just in case; you haven't, because maybe you're not looking

I romanticize humanity until what's left isn't even human.

I cook up fallacies about legal aliens and add a dash of cumin.

Your chef tosses salads in the pasta section of the grocery store.

Devil's just as confused, with a ***** and an apology at heaven's door.


You don't know, and no one cares where eggs go when they die.

Godzilla thinks of a car full of clowns like you would a sardine pie.

What happens when an elephant gets alzheimer's and loses keys?

Does the paradox consume an entire circus of trapeze-act-fleas?


I ruin birthday cakes by blowing off the frosting instead of the flames.

How I do that? Count backwards from backwards and say my names.

Bittersweet love anthems pollute the brains of conscientious dames.

Heavy metal doesn't pollute, it pacifies rage quitting from soul-******* games.


Out of the woodwork comes a limp ***** that would work,

Long hours only to find he'd pay millions for a Miley Cyrus twerk,

Which is worth about as much as an all-female circle ****,

Unless you add strap-ons, so strap in and lap up the knee-****-smirk.


It is unwise to handle scissors when one is being cutting-edge,

Because your accountants will dangle themselves off of a three-storey ledge,

When you cut up the ledgers and make light of, that is, burn, the evidence of pledge,

To the monkeys in your think-tank mailing feces to the upstart farmer's hedge.


Now I know you're sick of rhyming and of poems and of liver culling whisky,

But I must inform you of a pirate's missing eye, I've bought sight of something risky,

I implore that when this song and dance is done, you'll assuredly miss me,

Because I've told you everything about depravity, hence forth you must kiss me.


Beacons of hope shine much like cantankerous silver in the moonlight.

If you're a werewolf that will fill you with hope and with immeasurable fright.

One day the world will admit that I'm awesome and impoverished to boot,

Because when the song and dance is done, what's left is just an ounce of loot.

the wind's whisper was
a romance of sound

satin sheets
shifting
softly
sliding
between her legs
with each gentle tug of his
her marble skin was the rapture
of his innocence
and the oarsmen
of his temptations
rowing him along
toward her
between her nubile legs

and he felt
for once
not like an invader
a Viking
a barbarian
trudging over the mountains
with lust arming his flesh
for the takings to
come

no

he felt
like a father
dutiful

yet also
like a son
respectful - obedient

yet truly, he was
her lover
who had mastered her platonic whims,
sacrifices, and conditions;
earned her trust
earned her surrender
and her, his
and her, his undying, unabashed love
devotion
humility
honor
reciprocal instincts
romantic intuitions
senses of guardianship and homage
faith...

for, he felt stronger
bedding her this day
than any woman before her
stronger
than any promise of affection
any kiss
any trust

for, she had conquered him
passionately
patiently
enduringly, with love
convincing him - resoundingly
that her heart was solely HIS

for that day,
with her inviting him into her womb
that was the start of their honeymoon
the firmament
the consummation
of their oath to love
and eternity
humanity

with no remorse for their matrimonial union...
no fear
no sorrow
no misery
no end

White sheets flutter...
they dance around the room
they whip and crack like storm-kissed sails
I cower in fear, my bed is empty save for pillows.

I rest my head
I'm nearly dead
I ache with dread
I crumble, like abandoned bread
and the table we set
is unwoven by time.
Splinters, like loose thread, pile up as do bones.
We are no longer held together by compassion,
we are butchered by sharp tongues and piercing glares,
for shame! We thought it was a funhouse, but we revel in slaughter.

White sheets flutter...
they wave like sleeping flags
they wave like quaking lands
then they settle and I hear the white sheets whisper
and the whispers haunt me
are they soaked by old lovers
tears like oceans raining into the sky
blood like rivers escaping the bed
bowels of deceit coughing up their secrets
let us drink all this vile bile and be drunken by horrors.

Is that the only way we can escape?

Fire and ice, you and I... wet with wonder.
We tangled and tossed and turned.
Our passion was poetic,
the way I saw truth in your eyes,
the way your smile hurt me the right way, that sharp tickle of pleasure.
Our joy was boundless, our toil of love without measure.
Yet...
Our love was a tide that crawled back to the heart of life.
Our ebb and flow of desire and fulfillment bled
all over that designer rug.
I sit in a cafe obsessing over deadlines and profits,
but,
can I really forget?
No.
And when I run out of deadlines,
and when I don't profit from profit,
the memories will bleed into me from
the past like rain "inside" an umbrella.
I will break.
I will sigh.
My eyes will mist,
my head will cloud.
I will shake my head and wonder...
"Will you remember?"

Tempests may surround
in the worst of times
a storm to level ships
capsize friend and foe alike
waves that change not just lives
but memory
how tragedy frames our desires
as need, rather than options
as love, rather than responsibility
how the quilt of phoenix feathers
that we oft cover us for slumber
molts as we shed our tears
molts as we age through life
and though times do change
and shadows creep beneath the door frame
still we hear the voice whisper,

"The winds of victory are soon to come."

Memories are trinkets we trade for action
we trade for purpose
we trade for comfort
Efforts spent crafting the perfect memories
catch up to our imaginations over time
Snapshots we thought were sublime
Calamities we shut the door upon
In the kaleidoscope of reality
we can see their colors change
what was treasured becomes tattered with use
what was feared becomes power over abuse
As we build our lives from ashes
no longer need for phoenix feathers
as we shatter walls of illusion
fact from fiction
truth from delusion
we come to hear the voice command,

"The winds of victory are soon to come."

And there is a tumult in the cupboards
under the floorboards
in the rafters
an aching shout of protest
a rapping upon the windows of the soul
a look, in the eyes, of horror
a clinging on to the raft of hope
a desperate jump to the cliff of salvation
a plunging fall into starvation
a rushing flight into the arms of the past
a stepping back from its cold clutches
a fervent climbing of the mast
looking out to the distant horizon
seeing how light is carved from darkness
knowing how you were made this way
and that your limitations
are at the mercy of your love
walking forward, proudly saying,

"The winds of victory are here at last!"

And how the winds whirl about you
as you dance in the curls and twists
walking upon the waves of anguish
waves of guilt, love, and praise,
to know they all complete you
and that the storm is who you are
you build the foundations
that will prepare you
for becoming
a guiding star
that leads your loved ones to the noble place
where your dreams would lead you thus far
a place of healing
a place of trust
a place we all know is here
within.

I heard it in my youth, and I've heard it once again.
You banish it away, it always comes back again.
Pain, they say, will always make you stronger.
Then when it hurts, why can't I live any longer?

Pain is not supposed to strengthen your soul.
Only your mind it strengthens "and" it leaves a hole,
And that hole is filled with poison to dull the pain,
And that poison will weaken you, like acid rain.

Apparently what you don't know won't hurt you.
That's right. It only hurts everybody else... "true".
People who eventually hurt you another way.
You'll tell them, "Go away, come again another day."

"It doesn't **** you." "Only cats have nine lives."
Because I'm aware of the multiverse, these knives,
Called dysfunctional lovers, friendships, and family,
Have killed me a thousand times; I live candidly.

I live honestly, because the pain of seeding a lie,
Can grow a thorny bush, upon seeing it you cry,
When you're pricked by the destruction of all,
Your chaos, wondering why you don't get a call.

Pain is good for lessons, that's why it's all around,
It's not that you're getting strong, only wiser.
Pain brings you to your knees, makes you touch ground,
For the power, you are weaker, only wiser.

I woke bitterly
I'm bruised, evidently
poison stings elegantly
when I think of your face

Nothing can replace
the feeling of the chase
the constriction of desire
the elation of loosening lace
a life of loneliness burning on
the pyre
but when I wake now
all this is as the murky floor
the bed of dreams and irks, a distant
past crammed and burried in the fogotten
Footfalls stir the watery gloom of the
swamp whose surface breaks
only when I sleep and
thrash.

In the distance
a glow, an inviting
innocent thumping so
warm and benign,
I know It's you.

I grasp your heart
a thing whose fist
I thought I knew.
Words as sharp
as fissures of guilt.
A voice as hard
as jails of stone.
I thought I knew
your steadfast
heart, but now
in feeling its
warmth and
sound, I doubt
my anger.

Of course,
I can't be talked down
I won't be convinced of forgiveness
my pride still hangs in rags
my heart still beats like abuse
my throat is still taut from every word I hung on
and, yes, I hung on, while you shook
and shook and shook
until I let go!

I stab your heart
the skies erupt with lightning
my face caught in a mixture
of pain
and delight
and fear
and remorse
a confusion I cannot identify
but will haunt me in every silence

In my twisted glee,
I expect your heart to bleed
to wither
to perish,
but the waters of life flow forth
and I feel
you weeping

My body slackens
I feel disgust wrack my nerves
"How could I?"
but you lay there,
hoping to embrace me
your love still drawing me close
is all I had ever wanted
I kneel, I fold, crying my own nonsense away
you wrap your arms around me.

How is it that only humans,
will love each other more
after going to war?

"It was just a fight..." you whisper in my ear,
"Only I can **** my love for you."

To my young eyes
To my innocent heart
I remember the world was a blueprint on canvas
It was a dream undreamt
It was a song unsung
As if in a crib, I looked about me at the stars of the cities
Constellations of people hung about
Their wounds and aches, joys and laughter, were the myths
Like the Zodiacs, groups of these people
Could define a person
Yet believing myself undefined, I strode out from shelter
Fearless
Untamed, I ventured to find my purpose
A purpose that would shake the mountain
Rain down the ash of winter
Smother the pits below my dreams
Cull the nightmares that stoke my fears
I waited
I waited, I waited
I tell you the waiting became my purpose
Finally, there, in the clutch of time, I found my calling
I will tell you all of the waiting
I will tell you, don't wait...

Don't wait for the door to ring
or the latch to unlock

Do not wait for the song to play
or the band to sit

Open the door
Be the composer
Be the pilot of your dreams, be the chieftain, be the god

While waiting for what I could be
I saw everyone else become

With the zeal of their hearts
I saw them build, I saw them grow
This one built a nest
That one stitched a doll
Now the doll's a mannequin and my waiting missed the change

I waited for the waiting to end
I waited for the wanting to decide
I waited for foe or friend
I waited until
there was nothing left inside

Where is the zeal of my heart
The timbre of my soul
I lost the sight, the sound, the love
because waiting took its toll...