you created a monster
who lives inside my bitterness
dwells in caves of hate
you consumed my innocence
filled my head with vampire fangs
this was the world we created
you changed me into a demon
and I needed to be caged
because my impulses changed
when you became a drug
that polluted my healthy veins
with the poisons you fed me
I needed an escape
to shed this monstrous shell
and conquer this raging war
that has caused a divide
between the two of us
a monster decoy, a beast
now runs through my arteries
can we change this war that rages on?
can we destroy this ugly monster world?

Vega the weaver patiently sits
on her enchanted workbench
of cobwebs and silvery beams
skillfully weaving her pictures
of dreams spun in azure blues
and pinpoint dots of stars
early Christmas gifts are made
for all her fairytale friends
the wooded sprites of forest glades
fairy princesses of glowing leaves
and elves of playful mayhem
though the Christmas holiday
is about seven months away
while a drunken crescent moon lay down
on his back sipping a flask of Planter's ***
on a lake of scattered moonbeams

The bottle of beer is pushed
against the wall.  I breathe in and out.
Tempted...to do what?  To become
intoxicated.  
Wear a lampshade on my head?

What about the morning?  What regrets
will I have? No memories,
just a headache.

The beer calls my name. Drink me, it says.
I say, No thank-you.  Come on, you know
you want to, it whispers.  

I shake my head
and cover my ears. I'm not listening.
I won't be seduced.  I take the bottle
in my hands and pour what's inside
down the drain.
  
That's one for me.  
We'll do battle, again.  
But today victory was mine.

Dresden blue skies
with wispy clouds of white
whiffle across
an azure canopy
while long trails
of churning waterfalls
cascade down the walls
of a hidden paradise
where the bashful sun hides
behind green palm tree fronds
and bright fuchsia bushes

a little house is nestled
in the lush foliage surrounding
its pixie sparkle porch
inside a fragile fairy queen
rests her pixie head on a pillow
magic dots of fairy dust
illumine a water lily pond
as clear watered-drops skip between
Bishme dreams in happy sparkles
and dances across her sea
of crystalized fairytale wands

Conceiver of blue guitar dreams,
proclaimer of starlit prophecies,

she walks in circles
to the sound of blue guitars.
Speaks with rhyme
in a thousand pieces
and creates visions
of first impressions.
Her surprises are
without limitations.

The words she embraces
reflect star-beams
into the Sestinas of her heart.
She hears the symphony
of the blue notes
and becomes the music.
Her moon directs the sky
and orchestrates her desires.

She dances to the sound
of a thousand harps.
Sings to the soul of her being
with rhapsodic melodies
and whispers refrains of amour.
At the moment of echoes,
her passions are returned
by the sultry kiss of the stars.

a shade of blue
that rips your heart in two
not exactly the shade
of robin's eggs
nor the pale hush
of a blue-azure
but the blue-velvet
of a Bobby Vinton song
that washes over you
makes you decide to dance
in a long gown of bleu celeste
forget-me-nots
of lapis lazuli color
pressed in a book
that reminds me
of how you and I danced
and how we drifted apart
in a whisper of cerulean skies
why, why, why I ask?
and will a broken heart
ever be on the mend?

china cherry blossoms
adorn a silken kimono
pulled away from the shoulders
dropped in a puddle around her waist
her back exposed
with a fierce dragon tattoo
in inks of ochre red and black
Mai Lin waits obediently
at her master's beck and call
an aphrodisiac in the night
for a bed partner
with an urgent appetite
that must be appeased

the power of her long raven hair
flowing over her *******
set within him a fire he must quench
that pale skin of milky white
and the full lips drenched in red
hastened his wish to kiss in tandem
his eagerness to couple together
was heightened by her soft angel touches
on his heat-infused bronze skin
beneath satin sheets of light gold

he scales the fortress of her body
and causes her china walls
to crumble and come tumbling down

Bronzed kisses
under a bronze sky...

Were you a statue
and I the sculptor,
I could not have sculpted
your perfection, your perfect love.
But you glisten in the noonday
Sun, perfect skin roasting
to a dark tan.  I view
you with awe marveling
at the Creator Who created you
with such intricate detail,
with such a skilled wonder.
And, I am lost in the talent
of the art, consumed by

bronzed kisses
under a bronze sky.

two parrots colored green and red
whispering secrets to one another
'another tall ship lured to Bad Man's Cove'

a tall ship with fierce Zuni pirates
who held Sir Frederick Castleman captive
all the pirates needed was a place
to dump their captive and claim their *****
a desolate place with little to recommend it

had a few moss-draped trees,
rocks and rills silently standing
in mute testimony to its isolation
They docked in the aquamarine waters
of lush tropical Deadman's Bay

herded Sir Frederick off the ship
bound in yards and yards of knotted ropes
a large rapier sword pointed at his back
he was gagged as well as bound
the parrots squawked loudly in protest

but the pirates left unfortunate Sir Frederick
to die alone on Bad Man's Cove shores

Neither inside here nor out there;
yet, somehow, dancing everywhere
filtered light shines in dark places
highlighting obsolete faces.

Wax figures in museum halls
silhouette cold marble walls.
Ice maidens and ice warriors
clash on battlefields of foyers.

Halos of softly frosted light
surround ghostly shadows in flight,
play lively games of hide and seek
from lamp posts where playful sprites peek.

In light of day or dark of night,
the contrasts are of black and white,
windmills whirl in minds about the past
and bring up kisses that did not last.

Decorative stonework windows

of blackness and grime

echo hatred versus love.

Yet the sidewalks follow

one red umbrella home

far from the dark clouds

and the pitter-patter of raindrops.



I want more than anything to escape

but these chains of grief

keep me captive and weak.

I have always been meek but strong,

but now I am living in a maze

and can't seem to find a clear path.

Every path is crooked and winding.



Yet the red umbrella is drying out;

so maybe the rain will move to someone else.

And maybe I will just put on a tomato red dress

to break the chains of grief for just one day.

Then I will twirl and twirl to a sixties song

and dance around my house

leaving a link at a time in each room.



Maybe the blackness and grime of tomorrow

will start to bleed into colors of yellow and pink.

And maybe I will become a new spring blossom

with a new beauty emerging out of the ***** ground.

Then I will attract the butterflies and the bees

to become the best version of who I was meant to be

and leave the blackness and grime far behind.

floating in frigid whirligigs
of French blue notes
aqua dreams underwater
floating in between
blue heaven shores
a black and blue hell
every hour of life recorded
playing those video scenes back
what if my misdirected plans
never did fall through?
would my spirit be looking down
at my body spiraling in liquid teardrops
and my end of life blueprints?

In a wooded glen forest deep
Atlantia wears a gauzy gown
of diaphanous white
back and forth, to and fro
she flitters about spying upon
human beings who weep for lovers lost
in her hands she holds an urn of foxglove leaf
sends her healing powers in a silvery mist
to mend the grey and drab tatters
of a broken and torn human spirit
solemn now, though usually mischievous
she goes about her chore of charity
marries the light with the darkness of night

cello stored in an attic
wood polished to a high sheen
but fingers that used to strum strings
have gone to haunted orbs
with Adelaide of pink pearlescent shades
in her changeling vapors
rising up past frets that once held
her cello-strings tightened
and tuned up to play dulcet notes
upon her instrument of darkened wood

she moans with wrenching sighs
longing to hold what she loved the best
fever took her to a distant place
separated her from the music she loved
and from her cello that knew
the touch of her fingers so well
I am beside you she whispers
at night to a sheet draping her cello
you will never belong
with anyone else except me

I wonder if this love letter
could ever reach you?

Time spans out in curtains
of the future, veils of the past.

And yet... and yet...
this love transcends time or space.
If only to touch your face,
if only to kiss your slightly
parted lips, if only
to breathe you in.

If only... if only...
I could dance into your arms
that you hold out to enfold, embrace.
I would sing of an aeon,
a medallion of eternity
that sears its imprint upon my heart.

Your photograph burns
like a flame into my memory.

Your uniform of Civil War blue
catches my eye
with its gold braid trim
adorning the sides
of your neatly creased pants.
Sword hanging down,
your hat just slightly askew.

I wonder if this love letter
could ever reach you?

And yet... and yet...
my hope burns eternal
that my love for you transcends
all of the many galaxies of time.

dearest love of mine,

my heart is filled to overflowing
with every pastel shade of you
the blues and the aquas,
the roses and the lilacs
all combine to display a true canvas of art

everything about you creates a picture
you are my Monet art exhibit
hanging on a gallery wall
my blue ribbon prize, my winning entry
I could not have created a better portrait with my paints

words can define who we are as lovers
the word love has so many different colors
my adoration of you is many, many hued
like the deep red shades of our aphrodisiac of ardor
that will hold my attention past this life on earth

there is not enough time to express
what this potent experience of us is
our shades have intermingled and tangled together
as all that we are forms one strand of our woven design
we are much more than the sum of words and shades

Naked skies
on oceans blue
breathlessly shining love.
Brilliant sapphire,
my desire mirrored
through your hypnotic eyes
of misty grey.

Long strokes of yearning
welling up, spouting forth
into clear well-springs
of love-light shining.
You slip through my hands
a pure-watered joy
to touch, to drink in.

How is it my voice
is so distant, so faint
that you do not hear
my throbbing words
of wanting,
my anguished cries
of soul's dispersing?

Yet, my love
waits patiently for you
on eternal wings,
nearer to your ocean
than you could ever imagine,
waiting for that day when your sighs
sail back towards my seas.

Sail magnificent stars
over the tomb of Pompeii,

sing of those who
wander far and wide
beneath the death dance
of a shimmering Moon.

Hear the voices that cry
with tears of anger
over the Sun of dust and ashes.

Night has fallen on artifacts
and kneeling bodies
encased in petrified lava.

At times, prayers echo to the gods
on the winds of a volcanic eruption.
Ancient souls are destined to walk
on forever molten paths of fire.

a sea nymph with fan-like sparkling fins
perfect head lifted up in a straining gaze
at the sails of the galley ship moving away
while the waves tumbled over
into a sea-spray green foam
bubbled up with teacup lights
that lit up the ocean's tumultuous state

her handsome young mariner
was on her ravaged mermaid mind
notes escaped as her siren's call
wafted over glossy sea-glass seas,
ballads sung with unending yearning
he had fallen under her conjured spells
that glowed from within her rainbow eyes

fiery flames with purple streaks of lightening
spread out in orange wings over a dusky sky
while her long silver locks flew all about her head
would her captain see her lithe body laying across the rock?
remember sounds of a siren's wind-blown song,
come back to find her sea-green embrace one time more

mermaids singing
though not to me
only to august males
and soon their chants
mesmerize, enchant
until those naïve ears
become in tune
they are captured blind
no longer have any fight
ride the tide with hair
turned white
waves blown back
and caged in water
turned white and black
they forever rest
in the sweet breath
of spell-binding ocean nymphs
in the chains of seaweed
turned red and brown
on a cloudy day
they are awakened
by human voices calling out
sea sprites find themselves
drowning in the brine

Based on an excerpt of the poem The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock  by T. S. Eliot

Living in the circle
of a Hawthorne tree root
Cassandra the white
sits in cradled silence
while a fairy-dust moon
perches glowing in a fay sky
aqua vapors
dotted by stippled stars
deep in thought
she touches gnarled limbs
shall she take
her will-o-the wisp wand
and lead another human child
on a very dotty journey
bespangled by
pixie-dusted lights
she laughs out loud
at the thought of her trickery
and the fay games of wooded sprites

clear streams of water
pour over cliffs
small isles of land
feels like I am showered
with love's healing streams
Wedgewood blue skies lay above
let me know I am alive
paint me a new picture
of what lies ahead
it's a new day
long gone are grey clouds
aching hurricanes of pain
no longer downhearted
peacock-blue peeks through
my future is all in aqua
and brilliant feathered hues
an aquamarine ocean waves me on
eddies whirling me around

rise, moonbird, rise
let your silver moonbird eyes
scatter the lanterns of the stars
a lullaby sung in colorful galaxies
as the night goes on and on
the Moon itself rises so high
undoes its daylight fetters
wraps its tie-dye colors
in the softened embrace
of a moonbird's feathers

notes of arias in the night
ascend into a sacred hymn
sung by a moonbird's throaty
warbled sound
the Moon's bright face
instills a kiss of light
raises up romantic notes
in the heart of the moonbird's chest
his soliloquy sends yearning
to be held in the arms of God

pampered by
the surrounding planets
wake, moonbird, wake
claim your place in the night's canopy
crown your aqua breastplate
with a luminous star pin
that accents the heart glow inside
by your universal flights
to other sides of the world
and to the dark sands of red
that cover the shores of Mars

Just the salt-tears
in a black ocean
lost upon the rocks.
Lightening splits the darkness
into rifts of electrical
streamers.  Lonely ships seek
a guiding light, a Lighthouse
at the end of a risky sea.
And, the ocean waves echo
over and over...
go to the light,
go to the light,
go to the light.

floating
in air
straps holding
bodies entangled
air slips through
while dangling
he floats above
she dangles below
music in a pose
wrapped in cellophane
black arched
bodies align
security
poses of
Kama Sutra
seduction's
**** eclipse

your kiss is like a flame
beautiful, widespread
fire upon leaf
your touch like a soft sweep
across skin revealing
a black pocket of quivers
your body an explorer
over the peaks and valleys
of the caves in mine
your hair a brush
over black ribbons of ardor
your thighs the driver
against hard and soft
lines of rapt pleasure
a dance where you
hold hands
in your alternate universe
of diamonds across night skies

awakening beneath
a pale yellow Sun
the hidden stars of daytime
sip champagne
in clear cups
then start to wobble
back and forth
these shy ecru stars
give drunken whispers
inhale chartreuse air bubbles
and fizzle
laugh at the antics
performed in
the stars' drunken state
velvet and chamois
painted on the edges
of a now tipsy Moon
cloak and dagger beams
hidden in the creamed blush
of lemon squares
make funny faces
at the **** flavor
of lemon meringue pies
and try to keep the earth
from spinning around

Your face has been a maze. Was the lie
a hidden devotion inside? A hidden sigh?
Were you smiling, back then? And, why?

Was the beauty of your days
found upon your singular face?
Was Leonardo charmed by your womanly ways?
Were you a captive to the dark side of him?
Was your smile just a secret
held in the heart of his whim?

Perhaps, your Mona Lisa grin
was nothing more than
the artist's portrait of only him.
Was that why you smiled within?
Could your face have been
the biographical face of his sin?

Your smile was somber; yet sweet.
Was it of a hidden need?
A hidden tease? Or, a hidden conceit?
Was it dangerous and scheming?
The mystery lies in the night
of Leonardo's own dark dreaming.

Your face was this mysterious thing
to be handed down through the ages,
to dangle on the broken wing
of some gallery's whimsy and guile.
Where we could all be drowned in,
held captive by, that Mona Lisa smile.

Down among
the Juniper trees,
my soul is hidden
in the misty cries
of Nature's joy,
in the diamond-facets
of its brilliancy.

~~~Stars, the diamonds
~~~The Moon, the light

My soul the dance
of a myriad of angels,
their harps the instruments
of angelic resonance,
their music the melody
of their hearts aflame
with God's Love, His faithfulness.

My soul hidden beneath
the shade of the Juniper trees.
Sweet echoes of angelic majesty
clothing my soul in threads
of gold and silver,
in the sweet rejoicing
of the Creator
of such angelic beauty,
such leafy limbs of angelic grace.

bubbling brew
in cast iron cauldron
swirling liquid heat
spell invoked
by a smarmy little dwarf
up he yells
come out of
whispering rumors
ancient phobias
bring rare beauty to evil
a foggy haze
then a fetching female
of shapely curves emerges
excited little dwarf jumps
up and down on tiny feet
tongue lolling around
this pulchritude his to groom
a touch of aloe added
to soften her pale skin
a pinch of stardust blown
to open her innocent eyes
to his ***** animal hunger
and that is what
his newest spell
would satisfy in him