Souls search for corresponding measures with gossamer vines through ether
Trapped in corporeal form often drifting between the learner and the teacher
Passing the souls mate yet missing the eyes of fate’s tomorrow
Spending years or a lifetime without a match in loss and sorrow
Souls never lost or seen in a colored perfectionist spectacle
Yet still touch the heart and mind even though vestigial  
We cannot find the split soul’s half with judgmental eyes
And if all we see is material, we may never hear a soul’s cries
For the one that makes us whole often wears a disguise
We are lucky enough to peer into the same blue skies
So when you find your souls match, you will know in an instant
You will feel like the sun, or at the very least like you just kissed it!
Walking you into a warmth that is rarely ever seen
You feel as though you lay on clouds, or lost in a pleasant dream

Pretend piety,
Of the temporary variety,
Placed in a shine of "I am better than you high society".

Your words are intelligent,
Your words hold weigh,
But my sentiment makes your feeble words tremble and shake.

It has taken years of mental *******,
To develop the concentration,
To compose these compilations of rhythmic translations!

You think you are the victor,
You feel you have won,
But this is no mere battle, it's a ******* war...son...your pain has just begun.

Because we don't need five minutes alone,
To crush any poem,
But reaching the masses and in between is where, I, call home.

Love and pain are parts of the game, but so are other emotions,
So merely beware, your pen must dip a little deeper into far vaster oceans,
If you think you can contend to my level or quotient...

My friend....

Yet I will always listen
Hearing what they have to say
As my eyes, slowly glisten
Memories threaten to carry me away

The bones doth echo a hollow tune
Your likeness in a locket within
Many months pass since that June
Waiting for my soul to release your fume

Hands can hold the past in a sense
But without words from your spirit
All things are more past-tense
If only I was blessed to hear it

Black are my days often
Nights spent pining for you
Yet all I see is your coffin
How I hurt to have you in my view

Beyond cascading screams in a melodically honed vibration,
Within a fading abyss of infinitesimal separation,
A dreamscape of a constant creation, so vivid by design,
An interesting compilation to the manifestations of my mind,
The psyche demands a certain control and designation,
A tether to the super consciousness without a single deviation.
But as we sail away on waves of cosmic revelation,
To travel the universe for a more profound contemplation not quite Euclidean in nature.
But as a product of Sol, there is a certain elemental configuration,
That fuels the intent of the most colorful dreams,
Bathed in the warmth we call divine,
I have seen solar systems and even far beyond,
But that was only in my mind,
As dreams are harder to navigate when it is difficult to see them straight.
One does not debate such pointless substrate.

Often plain will stain Greatness
That which stood so long without
Now can barely hold the word
The word is like tape with no stick left
Merely a shadow of what once was
And if pushed on very hard
There are days it sticks
Still that word quickly falls
Like a placid old *******
Lost the meaning of the word Great
Yet it still stands in all its useless glory
Too proud to sit the **** down
Admit that life…is always shity
Yet we smile
We smile until it hurts
To prove that importance is second
Because sometimes it's good to remember that happiness
Can hurt to reach for in the hands of others
Not because of anything
It is just the price of flying

Blossoms of cordial feelings so blissfully divine
Ones that hold tight minutes in time
When worlds come shattering down
When solitude is all around
The warmth of a friendly hug
The infinity of a mother's love
Felt in the words we choose to relay
Or smelt in the depth of a bouquet
We cannot predict future ticks on a clock
But certainly filling curiosity's thoughts
Distance instants a stare a smile in the eye
Share a brain, share a set, and share a look in a starry sky

A Gladius in one hand, leather on the handle amalgamates with weathered epidermis as if together for so long, there is no real division between one and the other. A Parmula in the other,  the protector, second appendage aside a most ravenous blade. Muscles so tense, nerve endings burst with electrical energy, capturing the spirit of the terrible beast within the man, nay, the Gladiator.

The beast tightens his foothold into the sand, raging strength forcing down, sand pressured through each phalanges as if water through a spout. Positioning each arm carefully and with the intent of maximizing damage and avoiding attacks, through cunning and powerfulness, designing death with each glare of the field. His focus, that of the hawk in the hunt or the statesmen in great debate...calculating all the angles, possibilities, and outcomes, defining his moment in time before ever even arriving there, his blood pumps.

The blood courses through his veins like molten hot lava from the core of Mount Vesuvius, ready to feed the vicious requirement of vigor needed to drive the man beyond men, who means to deliver the utmost devastating horror unto the flesh of other just as ferocious men, but none that contend. The strength of ages shown in the ripples of a warrior's poetic mastery to human excellence within war, for the ruthless decimation of human parts in a most savage fashion.

The shattered Gladiator takes that last few seconds, those trice right before battle
......where all time ceases......
To look down at the blood pumping harmoniously through veins before his eyes, he thanks the gods for his passion, power, and even his demise...and at that moment of singularity, he can hear his very blood in motion, as if all the world is silent, even against the crowds of the Coliseum that rival the sound of ten thousand heavy armored horse in full charge crashing lines of men
.......yet he can hear the breath pass his lips, as he breathes that last easy air of peace.    
      
As the opponents he means to send to the afterlife enter into their final space of rest, the roar begins to shake the sands at the suspect of impending death. The Gladiator sees each lusting harder than the other at the thought of his murderous actions given as the sport of all. Loving the blissful pleasures of watching him extinguish the light in men's eyes at his most arrogant time, all in name of a game. The Gladiator clinches his teeth in great anticipation, as the Roman speaks in foreign words which requires a submissive bow, and an utterance of a silly vow, which has no meaning.

And despite his many occasions in this very situation, there is still no greater sensations then when hardened metals smash together in the most destructive manner, setting the sounds alight that is music to the ears of a monstrous warrior who dances with death so often, he has learned to avoid the steps, more often leading, for skills that are the best, and death has all but removed him from his list...

Save a tiny little cyst in his hypothalamus.....he would have never died in battle.

Within the silvery filaments are the elevators of the stars, becoming light to travel seems so avant-garde.  

Tethers so distance we cannot fathom the array, magnetic disturbances that resist the ravages of decay.

Portals trapped in dark matter holding keys to sapphire sunsets and triple moon rises, to stand on far gone lands mesmerized by unknown horizons.

Simply lost inside a mindscape that unfolds into forever, keep those blissful visions that cage emotions that we treasure.

So as I look at stars with hope of infinite wonder, I step into a dream of lifetimes without number.

If I were to offer you one thousand tears of a lovers sighing cry,
Would you fill your heart or empty them into an endless ocean of tide,
A withering petal of the most beautiful emotion that refuse to see the sun,
But in the seized feelings caged within aspects far beyond longing begun,
A belief that foretells of a song releasing you from held burden;

A beast doth not despise the hunter whilst running defense,
A flower doth not question the sun's distance immense,    
Both are lost in the beating of raw intensity,  
Bringing to thy edge of amber like waves of feeling into me,
Crashing on the white crests of an ever ending sea;

When you think of love do you think of your fear?
When I am in your vision do you think to draw me near?
But torture me ever not, with fleeting lunacy clouding my wisdom,
Mystifyingly hidden terrors of future commitment come,
But our souls have not touched long enough to leave the connection undone.

Yet a spirit is like neither bone nor flesh so bound by distance,
Tattered souls travel the world in their undying persistence,  
Tenderly pleaded the most noble actions of feelings rendered,
Only seeking to be in our hearts remembered,
Holding to hopes of a better November...

With the most greenish gold luminescence embraced in a cherishing love,
so many others similar, but none matched when up above.

Warmth within the brightness only seen in the day,
never more burning then the bluest flame inherent within.

Quasars tremble at the radiance produced by the Smoldering Star,
curious is his orientation in this brilliant display of the brightness in decay.

But this Star can relish the dark,
such that black holes are forced to concede the winning shade, abstained...jealous.

The most murky oceans are visible in comparison to this Star in his cataclysmic rebellion of the light,
merely to fulfill a Gemini's prophecy of duality.

Therefore the star you see in the sky is not I,
but the reflection for the imagination in my eye, manifested as light.

The creation of such a dilation is second to the universe, however, nothing compares to finding the light you were meant to give, as the sun give to a planet
...not merely giving light, warmth, and a stable position, but also the ability to majestically generate existence.

The gravitational pull of the Smoldering Star is not that of a great gas giant,
but that of a supernova star, which has been long bereft of planetary manipulation of an epic magnitude.

Merely smoldering in dwell in semidarkness waiting to shine once again,
and like before when the strength was that of a million suns in full burn.

And while there are many stars up above,
I am among the few that shine out of love.

A Star that is always lovingly smoldering above with a smile and a hug,
depth of conversation that reaches crushing pressures of realizations in the face an inevitable annihilation.

But in the change on a second can fill you with the greatest elation with adoring connotations in a rhythmic fashion, to involve all passion.

It is not the brightness of the star.....but the amount of those illuminated by me in the end.

Dying straight line

Blissful reverie beginnings
Fill mason jars with
Cataclysmic repertoires
And loving memories  
Specifically orchestrated      
Pyroclastic like similes
Apprehensive to gestation
Systematical count down
To an evitable destination
But a soul may yet soar
On breezes men never fly
To hear the tune of resonance
Corporal forms rarely perform
Feel opulence in not but illumination
Transparent millennia as but a flash
Far beyond a humanoid pursuit
So while a body starts with intending
Spirits are infinite and never ending
You may think we are a dying straight line
But we are a circle….reinventing.

In the midst of encompassing darkness, there is a causeway through light
One that emotions feel in the ether and all too often hidden from sight
We drift through each illuminated cosmos as if it were our last
Live for tomorrow yet set thy Self within the past
In a jaded cognitive clarity, we see the blooming of a new dawn
One that holds our souls in the coldness night any of us have ever saw
We hone our inner light work to shift the coming supernova blast
Unite within the rising of an evolution we have yet to grasp
For only the Children of Love will feel the change deep in the soul
The ones who fall the hardest as they break out of forced molds
Law second to nothing but that of universal constants
Of that which guides our symmetry into a new consciousness  
One that is long overdue for a race outgrowing its dimension
Do we have control of our Will to shift a worlds intentions
We rest on the cusp of a blade where a feather equals stone
Fight for that Love that each and every one of us infinitely own

Looking deeply into the densest black, no light to be found save a tiny little crack. The fracture that harbors a minimal piece of light, holding a tinge of fear as a battle rages in the night. Champions of the bright stand battered and bruised, a war against the dark we cannot afford to lose. Many tactics has the dark to destroy leaving broken shining beams, yet the light holds tight inside us as we strive towards our dream. Of a world that will only ever live in the light, and the only darkness we see is that of night. A war that eternally wages on, so no matter the victor...the tiniest crack of the dark...lives on, in us. We are the bringers of both side of illumination, one without the other, never balances the equation. For oneness is all that we seek, the inner battle of the strong and the weak. A source to which we are forever tied, we merely live to choose a side.

Walking through barren and burned deserts
Swimming through oceans on fire
Climbing to the top of the highest crystal tower
Hoping he can acclaim her divine spectacle
To lose his soul in the spirit of her flesh
Longing to prove his love for her
Show his love's strength above the rest
To be the source of the fire the burns beneath her breast
But this mortal is flawed
As he competes against Gods
And the Goddess he so passionately seeks is beyond his stature
Foolishly, he will fight tooth and nail
Only he will undoubtedly falter
To match the ferociousness and vigor of Gods
In his battle to reach her alter
But this oh so daring mortal
Was merely too blind to see
The Goddess had already chosen
But he failed to believe it was he

Captured by the gleaming point of rage
Held bleeding inside my hands
It has been so long since I have seen the sight
Not sure where my willpower stands*

I have wielded this beast so many times before,
Scars ripped from a past so deep, harder to ignore
Only sibling blood knows points of stress
Ones that raise anger when painfully depressed
Yet that never counted is a deeper cost
In the heat of a brother's battle… much is lost
Not merely the pain can you muster
But the cherishing love we used to foster
There was a time when you had woke the lion
But now wisdom sees how sad that you are trying
To provoke a beast that once nearly destroyed you
Soon you will see that patience is now my highest virtue
I hold all loving pity for your years of my caused pain
And I show you the greatest sympathy in my refrain
Because I will not give in and hurt my brother
Because I know that in your mind…you suffer.