Eternity is
like fruit that never ripens;
endlessly bitter.

in a hush,
the fire flew
- a brush
of yellow hues;
in the darkness
it is painted
the silhouettes
of me and you.

there is no room
on the moon
when you're floundering
in doom.

there is no reason
for the season
to stay
for your treason.

there is no way
I'd deny
I'm in love
when you cry.

Juniper.
Such a naïve little thing.
She knows not what she wants,
but she enjoys the butterflies of Spring.
Perhaps when she grows up,
she'll find out how they go into
metamorphosis.

I've never known you,
but I've passed you many times.
I envy how easy you make it seem.
I wish you'd notice me.
I -
never mind.

go slow,
do good,
and be brave enough to be kind

The old poets write of archaic heroes;
the old poets sing of tragedy and pain;
the old poets know of woe and triumph;
the old poets make words that forever remain.

The new poets dabble in life and in darkness;
the new poets scribble their madness on page;
the new poets read what the old poets wrote;
the new poets write out of freedom and rage.

I write to relive and I am doomed to re-die
if only the emerald would leave my eye,
and stain every plane of my memory's mind,
and promise every secret my future might find;

I write to give slivers of salt to the world
I long for the knowledge that I am doing this right
I write for the forlorn fire in the palm of my hand -

humanity is hardly infallible
we are fragile fragments of matter

let go of your worldly possessions
even your opinions
and walk the planet you have evolved with and into

anger burns along the shore,
kindle makes it crackle more,

let the tide sweep in and pour
all the things that you adore.

The lines of her hands had been born with her before the finger prints
her eyes had settled blue when she first opened them
the dimples came when she was a few months old
and her name was the signature of Artemis herself -
loved completely as she slept in the womb of women
loved abundantly when her cries of life echoed in the ripples of Narcissus's reflection

she was purest the moment breath came into her
and most peaceful when the last sigh escaped her ancient lungs

the lilacs in bloom
remind me of spring's shortness;
neither do they last

always, I will remark on how
the water sings.

The water sings lyrics so sweet,
speaking true tidings that we understand in the end.

poets claim that ignorance is bliss; how they crave its bitter sweetness.
philosophers say that knowledge is the sheath of life.

longing looks at us
from where the sky meets water
love, unrelinquished

love is not taking pride in puncturing one another
nor is it ignorance and infidelity
love is a thousand things;
but love is not this

sick
of all
the wasted
time

star crossed lovers
as romeo loved juliet
and a bird loves the dawn
and a country song sings of carrying on
as persephone loved hades
and patroclus loved war
and as children so love the dark of the moor
as orpheus so honours the snake that took his love
and as mourning in twilight is sung by the dove
by and by lust turns to love turns to pain
as prometheus looks forward
to the raven in the rain

I want to drink the moon
She has never given off such essence of purity.

Intoxicate me, won't you?
The night was stagnant as always.