Desire wrote you many messages,
the heart sent some of them,
but none was delivered,
the destiny blocked me.....

The story of their life
is nearing the *** end,
The graph of the health
has a sharp descend.....
The world is rushing
it's own race,
Their lives don't flow
at that pace...

Possessing a rich and gorgeous
past to share,
But hardly find anyone
to give an ear.....
Chicks flew away
in pursuit of their quest,
The elder couple
is lonely in their nest....

Meditation, yoga
and the doctor's visits
Are prioritizing their
"to do" lists....
Waiting for festivals,
when kids pay visit.
Their childhood moments,
the minds revisit.....

Memories fading,
limbs poorly coordinating.
Hearts are weary,
heavy,
yet pulsating....
Unknown emptiness,
deep melancholy.
Splendid dwellings,
screaming loudly.....

Eagerly wait to meet
with other elderly,
To accompany on the walks,
and to talk heartily......
Relaxing and rejuvenating
laughter at the sunset.
The sun sets daily,
the hopes are alive yet...........

the moon is hiding in
her hair.
The
lily
of heaven
full of all dreams,
draws down.

cover her briefness in singing
close her with the intricate faint birds
by daisies and twilights
Deepen her,

Recite
upon her
flesh
the rain’s

pearls singly-whispering.

Speculation and Introspection
     Predatory Skills Possess
               You Are The Prey

Chaotic minds
                          amid of calmness

Analytic minds
                             amid of emptiness

Unquiet minds
                           amid of quietness

Lunatic minds
                          in loneliness

Cryptic minds
                         in directness

are
"poetic minds"
in making....

1

I look at
my shredded fingertips,
turning gray from Ernie Ball string,
from obsession playing the instrument.
I look at
             the only evidence
of any of that
ecstatic crucible
into my hands,
                      the technicolor
of each pile
                 of felt-tip paintings,
the endless rows
                         of recording
that I can
             only navigate
by seconds, and by minute,
and I am
             deflated.
not a single
                work
was finished.
again,
nothing
could be used.

         2
I look at
the hours flaying me
on my acoustic guitar, and the days
trapped in each sheet of sketches
spent sleep deprived and starving,
alone, not bathing
or speaking; just
drawing. drawing until
the pain reached
too high a threshhold
to be able
to endure,
but i did again and again this
in between those great periods
of being an invalid,
                                 in the hope of something
to be proud of.

I decide I'll go for a walk
to the 7/11.
I buy a 40 dollar bottle
of my favorite Whiskey,
of Jameson and
I get a pack,
                   not the usual kind, not my favorite--
Marlboro Red One-Hundreds,
                                                   but I get a pack
of Parliament Light One-Hundreds
this time.
              I go home, and I drink.
half the bottle. light a cigarette, play
one of my favorites--
those songs
                  from the 1990's.
I sit down
on the floor of my bedroom and
I cut open
my arms
with a pencil.

Restless nights
inner fights
The past haunts
loneliness taunts.
Behind the doors
for not the world to see...

Weeping sorrows
praying for better tomorrows
This soft place of him
only few get in.
Behind his smile
for not her to see...

Tough and strong
he may be wrong
Capable of all bad deeds
yet, the love he needs.
Inside the cocoon
not the light to reach...

Inner self cries
So many whys???
Killed by avoidance
waiting for the chance.
Behind the wall of ego
for not her to reach...

And he cries
for not her to reach...

And he cries
for not her to reach...