I don’t like people at my feet
So, I could never be an emperor, or a king
Though I believe myself capable
Of just about anything
But loving – that’s a tricky one.
How does one go beyond –
I wonder – to be overcome
With wonderment of another
Find salt – beneath a fingernail –
Of the Earth’s splendour
Licking them clean, one by one,
Until there are none left to surrender
To me, it is beautiful but immodest
To bear one’s soul so unabashedly
So bare-naked, weak and honest
That you throw off one’s shoes
Trade them for an embrace and warm breath
Old vestments, at the foot of the bed
And at mine, just you.

I am a bundle of thread
I am a thorn
I am unspooling
I am shorn
I am a needle
I am the haystack
I am off-beaten
I am the path
I am a carriage
I am a horse
I am the outcome
I am the cause
I am the future
I am the past
I am the now
I am what lasts
I am a soldier
I am a fool
I am the Weapon
I am a Tool
I am rusted
I am unhinging
I am broken but
I am glinting
I am fractured
I am golden
I am beauty
In eyes beholden.

O, Prescient Ewe
That knows where to stand
Avoids ambivalent hand

That bore this world
Of life’s command
To bear its high demand

O, Precocious Hen
Knows when not to lay
A life down in the hay

A babe unborn,
Uncracked, unraised
Unknown to her dismay

O, Prodigal Mare
Beware not to sprain
Or you will bear the strain

Though not for long
You’ll be for this plain
Where retired mounts are lain

O, Impassioned Pig
Whose fattening
Welcomes a fatter thing

Wash away
The amber glaze
Chase not the dangling

O, Prescient Ewe
Return to me
What is it you see?

Be sure it is
What’s to come
Not what you wish it be.

I envy you
The me I’m not
The me I’ll never be

I envy him
Whoever he
May become to thee

I envy them
A faceless bunch
Who call on thee to leave

I envy not
The hurt that lies
Now, not so far beneath

I envy you
The most of all
Maligned Jealousy

So, envy me
And maybe then
It may turn to levity

I envy it
What was not lived
Resides in passing dream

I promise not
To envy you
If only, you'd envy me.

Another smokes
Another one rolled
Another cries
Another one consoled
Another stands where
Another one was lain
Another’s bliss becomes
Another one’s pain

But if pain is just a part of it
Why is it all that remains?
Could it be Another
Is all it takes
To make One whole again?

O, Candle!
Warm me so
Tinge the palm with soot
Feel the flame
Embrace ye whole
Flee not – to flirting brook.

Make my gelid
Heart whistle
Like kettle overrun
Stir not
With the Finger
You may end up losing some.

Be careful
Not to under
Mine or worse – estimate
The Joy
In Suffering
Is one most intimate.

Let the pain
Consume ye
And be met with greater bliss
For there’s no greater
Pleasure than
To burn as warm as this.

The Clock has gone to bed
So have the Bell and Chime
And such has ceased all hours to pass
Beyond the boundary of Time.

The Twilight holds you — tender
To cheek you turned to foe
And so now becomes forever,
The Ox becomes a Doe.

O, Heart as gentle as the nascent Fawn
Who gets lost on familiar paths:
"If only to reminisce" — it jests
"Or chance upon greener grass."

~Shatter me, Humpty! Into Faberge~
Paint — the cracks, laden:
Urushi, gold leaf, lame.

~Drape me, King! In novel robes~
Hide thine – from naked eye
Of unsightly misanthropes.

~Devour me, Men! Unbecoming~
Break thy yolk and stir it, runny –
Scramble over my gutting!

Time has a fickle memory
Such oft it o’erlaps
Deja vu, of the lyric —
That Time itself — entraps.

Devours the page — engorged
‘Til you are paper-forged
Drowned — heady, in pretty epithet,
Losing Time you can’t afford.

You can’t unbind the shackles
For Time has lost the key –
Better to live a fleeting bliss
Than a prolonged misery.

You spend more time cradling your shell, lately
Coveting not the flesh of just any man
But the warmth of his skin - only
Tempering your own - rosy
Dulling the mind - *****
And curing the heart’s lonely:

~Ahh… Hare!
Suppose this must be what it means to burn —
Slowly.~

What if I were to conjure a storm
And be met with a fleeting rain?
What if I let a small sob escape
And spilt forth a rogue hurricane?
What if I precipitated a thunder
And heard word of a sweet refrain?
What if Cumuli resolved with Nimbus
To be lighter once again?

An arrangement set
A red pin, dropped
A kettle simmering
A tea, half-drunk
An afternoon
A transient fleeting
An exchange of breath
A running stream
A tremolo, twinkling
A couple of twinks
An amalgam of flesh
A bundle of kindling
An exhalation
A series of gasps
A needle on a string
A basting stitch
An idle thumbtack
A log for one to cling
An obligation
A set of things
A need for one to bring
A resemblance alike
An Angel in heat
A modern-day Nephilim.

Another
Fills the cup
~To sorrow smother!~

Another
Flies the coop
~To sully another!~

If thee were to drink
Would this malady cease?
And if thee were to leave
~Would you return to me,
Please?~

O, how long shall this anguish last
I thought it o’erturned?
But then I felt it – turn again
The Wheel that yearns, and yearns
That tugs the Heart; moves the cart
Toward slight and lucky mound
That slights the fortunate – Off course
With trite misfortune abound.

What are the chances? I count
My eggs, and chance a guess
Make sense of those already hatched
But what to make of the rest?
Does the fledgling Hen – No Hatchling abreast –
Mourn amongst the coop
Or does it lay all anguish to rest
In the nest its Chicks would stoop?

Is a boulder wedged
Betwixt thy chest
Bearing weight
Of moving – beyond

Dost thou push against
The peak of unrest
An unmoving
Sought to abscond

Accursed encumberment –
Zeus, come urgent!
Trade distant
For the fond

That feeling lost
To pebble tossed,
Skipped
Across shallow pond

Do you even care for
Did you ever – more –
Stop to think
Or consider at all

What precipitates –
The flood – the rain –
Is the same which
Prompted the roll

For I have no brake
So, to break – my fate –
Is what remains
To break my fall

Now all I hope for
Is coming – war –
To bleed me
Dry and dull

Passion – passed
Regiment – collapsed
Atop sword
Of your own recruit

And yet I stand
Hand in hand
With fallen
Soldiers – resolute

For I am leg-bound,
Surface-drowned,
By pit
Of fruitless pursuit

A victim still
To down-turned hill
And resolution
Most astute

The storm is done
But not the burden
That drums –
A thunderous applause

A wound that heals
Still yet conceals
Heart held
Together by gauze

Bless me – rid
Thine Sisyphus –
Of that stone-still
Chore you bore

Why must I carry
What once was merry
Now bruised,
Shattered and sore?

We all have a lot on our plate
But few to share it with
I’m yet to encounter a taker
With a single **** to give

Swallow, masticate
Do not be famished – quick
Spill out, the hand that fed –
The one you never should have bit.