Compared to Home, what is Rome but
Many imposter stones, who flaunt paunches,
And chiseled jaws, and abs thick cut
But never earned. The fountain launches
Water "non potabile" from a fishy gut,
Or seems to. Yet the endless craft
Is effortless, since the secret is the pressure
Merely directed. I admit I laughed
When I saw the Fountain Naiads who lure
Water horses and lizards into their fray,
For each is doused, but the one for sure
Is so angled that she must need a bidet.

Compared to you, Rome can only boast
Of satisfaction in her sweet "pasticcerie"
And hot coffee, when your French toast
Is bettered with bacon. Italian cheerie
Exists in the smiles and sweet abuse
Of the street vendor, who starves his family
To make you an offer you can't refuse.
Just today I bought a scarf of cashmere
Which came from India. And although
The tag said China, I have no fear
That he'd sell me Nylon for twenty-two euro.

What is Rome when compared with thee,
But arches which soar and crack and fall
Never to be moved nor fixed. You can see
The lazy layering in the Forum floor and wall.
Caesar makes a triumph below his arch
While trodding flesh arches on trash. And
The river never ceases her acid march,
Hoping to carry away less from that land.

I blindly walked into the pit;
I stumbled, fell, and cried.
But when my soul called out for help,
I found Him at my side.
"You cannot go the way you came,"
My Lover said to me.
"But the road to home is long and cold.
There's hardly light to see."
"Yet trust in My Plan, My love,"
He said to me once more,
"For when you call upon My Name,
There's no pain you can't endure."

So many weary ways I wandered,
Each more lonesome than the last.
Many times I slipped or stumbled,
And couldn't feel my Lover's grasp.
Many nights spent sleepless sobbing,
And ev’ry one was worse for wear.
Yet often when the road was hardest,
I couldn't feel his presence there.
And as more endless caves I conquered,
And with each fall felt more near dead,
Longer did I lie half-waking,
And longer lay the road ahead.

Still, sometimes when I look behind me,
And see what dangers there have been--
Narrow ways and broken bridges,
And hollow caverns caving in--
I know that He's been there to guide me,
And, once more, I can begin.

Like, what even are you?
No way in a million lives
Could I dream up someone like you.
I can’t even begin
To comprehend what the actual heck
(Heck heckin’ heck)
Kinda glitch in reality ARE you?

I can’t even—
I can’t even open my mouth and begin—
You!

You!?!?
I get so excited,
I can’t poetry anymore
(And I swear I’m usually
Not too bad at poetry).
But I want to say something!
Because you deserve to have a million words said about you.

Baby, I can’t even say,
“I still can’t believe this is real,”
Because I’m still stuck on the “this.”
What is it that I can’t believe?
What even is this?
What even are you?
The word amazing couldn’t begin to describe you!

I’m kinda afraid to say the rest…

“I feel like we’re made for each other”?
Can I really say that?
No-no-no—
It’s much too soon.
Maybe you aren’t real, or
Maybe you are
But I hit my head on something.

I’ve gotta be insane.

I’m-I’m crazy.
“This” is crazy!
YOU are crazy!

Hot ****, you are crazy.
I could eat you up.
How is it that you drive me wild
Just by being you?

I wish I could capture your essence in a bottle
And strike it rich.
“Lizzie’s miracle drug.”
Except that makes it sound super addicting
Or sensual,
Infatuation-al,
But that’s not what I mean at all.
I just mean I want to tell the whole world
How amazing you are
Because I want them all to appreciate you, too.
But I don’t even know where to begin
And every attempt keeps falling flat
(And falling for you).
I mean, how many stanzas have I written already?
And this is just the prologue—
Monologue—
Gutentäg—
Ratlin bog!
(Sorry, I needed to make sure I can still rhyme.)

They say love lost is better
Than never loving at all,
And oh My God, I know it must be true
Because even if “this” crashes and burns
I’ll never be the same—
Never!
Even if it breaks my heart,
I will always be that much better.

Oh Lord, I’ve gotta be a fool.
A fool in love.
A happy, foolish fool.
There isn’t even a part
That’s careful for my heart,
A part in my gut that says,
“Slow down and think of all the ways
This could go wrong. Be prepared!”
Oh, there was a time when I cared.
Heaven help me if I care now!
Yes, I want to take it slow
But not as a fail safe. No,
I want to take it slow
Because— for “this”—
I want to do this justice.

If that’s God’s will, then,
Glory hallelujah!
Only then,
I can’t believe this is real!

You know I don’t believe in soul mates
Because there’d be too many ways
A person could ***** himself over
And be unhappy for all of his days—
Then what would happen to his mate?

You know I don’t believe in soul mates
Because some people may never be
Good or holy or mature enough
To be worthy of matrimony.
So what would happen to their mates?

I do not believe in soul mates,
In one person being your destiny—
Because we’d never find that one
Among the fish within the sea—
And what would happen to our mates?

No, I don’t believe in soul mates.
Even though God brought us together,
And it feels like we’re made for each other,
I could be happy with many another.
What would happen to your mate?

Well, I don’t believe in soul mates,
Even though our powerful Lord
Knew from the beginning of time
You and I would strike a chord.
What would we do if we were mates?

I said, before, and I’ll say it again,
Despite what my experience claims:
Soul mates? Oh, they’re not a thing!
But… what about twin flames?

Darling, are you a lover... of poetry?
Or only a lover simply, of me?
What I mean to say
(If you care to hear)
Is I'll write you a poem
If… you hold it dear--
But not only dear for my sake,
Rather if you truly appreciate!
Because if not you, then at least I
Appreciate a poem, by and by.

Darling, are you a writer, a poem composer?
Because I am not a poem-opposer.
What I mean to say
(If you don't mind the trouble)
Is I love any poem,
But when it’s from you, double.
And if it is bad, then I, for your sake,
Still the thought would appreciate.
Because if not you, then at least I
Love getting poems, by and by.

She said, "I cannot stand to be alone",
So she found herself a loyal stone.
He hardly ever left her side,
Parting slower than the tide.

She was a sinner, the worst of all:
Not just water, but a waterfall.
So great was her longing to be free
That sitting still meant stagnancy.

"I am like water, flowing and white,
But you are a rock, steady and wright.
How can we hope, our natures apart,
To ever be one and share the same heart?"

He was a sinner and hardly better:
Not just a rock, but also a fetter.
His love was so desp'rate and blind,
He drove her out of her **** mind.

"You're not water, you're just blue,
And it will work since I love you.
So even if we are some contrary,
I think we are still meant to be."

To demonstrate the truth of this,
He claimed her with a cold, hard kiss.
And still he struggled to conceive
Why she ever chose to leave.

I keep thinking that I'm missing you,
But God knows that can't be true.
I must be missing a man's warm touch
Since I never loved you all that much.
Well, that wouldn't be quite fair to say;
I loved you then, and love you today,
And my love for you will never cease--
But I never felt that sense of peace.
Well, whatever the case might be,
Despite my current uncertainty,
I made my choice; and my stance
Is there's no place for a third chance.
After all this, I'm slowly learning
That all my tears and all my yearning
Cannot make things any better
When I am lonely to the letter.
Besides, this calculation must include
An unknown, moving factor: you.
I knew from the moment I made you cry,
It would never be worth another try.
Although you'll never hear, goodbye.

Sometimes I think I'd be better off dead
Than stuck in these thoughts that fill up my head.
I miss him much, and I'm so f*cking stressed.
I want to forget him but I'm still so obsessed.
I'm still in denial, and sometimes still hope
That regret is enough to undo this **** rope.
But my fingers are shaking and my vision grows white,
And the harder I try, the more it grows tight.
         If the further he goes, the closer I feel,
Am I falling for him, or just an ideal?
And now he's but a stranger to me,
And I to him, and it’s so **** lonely.
Does he still care? And what might he say
If I asked him to gamble himself and stay?
Would he hate me? Pity me? Or somehow realize
I'm a fickle, selfish woman he ought to despise?
       I confess that I made mistake on mistake--
I hurt him so much and caused his heartbreak.
I took him for granted, and somehow still do,
As if after all the pain I put him through,
"You still love me enough to let me have you."
       I'm a sucker for pain, and much too weak-willed
To take up my cross for the Blood that was spilled.
I'd rather have him now, and be less fulfilled.
Oh God, what a sinner I am, who hardly even tries
To move on from him and give up my lies
That I might fix "Us" with these selfish cries.
I try to persuade myself two contrary things--
One, that I love him, and that's why it stings,
And two, that I don't, and my heart only clings
To my love for love, or for company.
Oh, God, do you think there's a possibility
That the friend that I killed might somehow love me?

Your smile is a melody
Played out upon a handsome face,
But since our strings were rent in two,
It's more a wound than it's a grace.

Your laugh is like a warbling brook
That brings the lonely heart relief,
But since our evening's torrid rain,
The sound of you just brings me grief.

Your voice is like hot chocolate
That warms one to the very core,
But since you ceased to speak to me,
I cannot drink it anymore.

Your hands are anchors in the storm
That hold the ship safe in the port,
But since our tide has long gone out,
Your touch will only harm and hurt.

Your hair is like a cushioned cloud
Where severed lips may find their seat,
But since the sev'ring was in us,
My kisses fall down at my feet.

Your eyes are but two dancing stars
That welcome home the weary soul,
But since this fog has come between,
I stumble like some blinded fool.

Your tears are like the misting rain
Through which the sun shines bows above.
So lovely, soft, and sad they flow,
But never more are mine to love.

Today I love you more than I can say,
Quite like I loved you yesterday.
Who knows what feelings tomorrow might bring,
But today my thoughts center on one thing:
I think we're compatible (we're made in the same batch).
Sometimes it seems we're a heaven-made match.
But playing with matches never ends up well:
What starts with a spark turns into hell.

Today I love you, I love you so much,
And I can never love you enough.
Every trouble that we overcome
Brings us closer. But there's one
Problem. Yes, the word is out;
I must confess: I have a doubt.

Today I love you--I love you more each day.
Oh, how I wish it would always be this way.
But the fears that whisper to me sometimes
Refuse to give vent to better love rhymes.
And so, my dearest, if I see it clearly,
When I'm hurting, it hurts too dearly.

But at least for today,
I love you, I love you, I love you.

Like smoke and cinders fading away
As twilight births the morning dew,
So sweet sadness drifts my way
As I now reflect on you.

The homes all plundered, and sky-searing flames,
Are distant dreams in these cold remains.
And when the bright birdies' beaks break wide,
You're admidst the mist
Where my memories hide.

Oh, one can wish that peace pervaded,
But the gods of war will rage and slay
Till ev'ry heart has been invaded,
And ev'ry home is burnt and raided,
And smoke blots out the sun at day,
And deep and dark the dark at night,
And deep and dark the sky all night,
And deep and dark, no stars in sight;
But only the flames, roaring red.
Toil in my heart, turmoil in my head!

Then slowly, slowly,
Quiet.
The cinders lowly murmer and chill.
A light growing in the East:
His Will.
And west,
The wind blows away
The rest.

I'm feeling so bitter, so ugly.
These gross feelings that torment -
        Like an addict,  I welcome them,
But reluctant, and hating every second.
  I find I cannot let go
Of the passions that I grasp.
             I'm an evil soul, inside and out.
Oh help me, God, I am so lost!
Lost in the confusing swirl
Of right and wrong and grey.
The truth is found by reason,
               But the same can justify hate.
Oh, my God, oh, my God:
I beg for all the things to *
And out, out, to go and free -
Give me liberty from this plague
      Which is me.

The virtue of the anchor depends on the strength of the rope.
        Many a ship is dashed ashore
        Whose metal smith has proudly swore
        No better weight was seen before.
        But alas! for the snapping rope.
Hope, like that two-hooked weight shall brave the darkest storms.
        But she is useless to the sailor
        Who, without faith, will quickly fail her
Whose shallow buckets won’t avail her.
Alas! For the weak-willed rope.

Hi Imma
Breakdown banana
                Banana—
                           banana—
Too sad
                     And tired
Tired—
              
That’s me.

Hi Imma
             breakdown—
                                
                                 Down—

                                                             down banana.

                                 Too sad
           And tired

Too tired to be.

Breakdown banana,
                                 Hello, I am here
Crazy about you
                                 And                        
                                                      Too tired to care.

Too tired, too tired
                                 Too tired to be free.

Oh I’mma
                   Down
                                 down banana
With no energy.

Banana…
                   banana…
                                                  Anxiety!

Maybe there's nothing left in my eyes,
Maybe I'm finally too tired to cry;
Either way, my face is now dry
And the numbness is setting in.

Maybe I've been shivering too long,
Maybe the wind isn't that strong;
Either way, the cold is gone,
And the numbness is setting in.

Maybe I'll feel better tomorrow,
Maybe I'll get used to the sorrow;
Either way, the pain will all go,
With the numbness settled in.

You never know what you have till it's gone,
But you've already left. It wasn't long
Till my heart began aching, and I'm so **** blue.
I can't remember how I would get through,
Or what things I used to do
All my life before I met you.
It must have been a solid hour
That I stood and cried in the steaming shower.
"It's not like he's dead," I had thought then
Before I realized, "Anything could happen."
Stupid tears, hateful thoughts, please go away.
I have no motivation. It's been only a day,
But it feels like it's been ever so long.
You don't know what you have till it's gone.

I wish I could believe
That somehow you were still here
But it's just too hard to stop the tears.
I cannot find a happy place,
'Cause everywhere there is a hole.
And everytime you are not there,
There's a falling in my soul.

I wish I could believe
That any moment now your feet
Would come crunching down this path.
I cannot stop the tears from falling
Like the cold, black waters of Merrimack,
And there is no comfort in this crying
When I keep wishing you were back.

I wish I could believe,
That you were sitting next to me.
I thought sitting by this stream
Would stop the streaming of my eyes,
But my sorrow cannot be sated,
When what was sweet, now is hated.

Today I love you more than I can say,
Quite like I loved you yesterday.
Who knows what feelings tomorrow might bring,
But today my thoughts center on one thing:
I think we're compatible (we're made in the same batch).
Sometimes it seems we're a heaven-made match.
But playing with matches never ends up well:
What starts with a spark turns into hell.

Today I love you, I love you so much,
And I can never love you enough.
Every trouble that we overcome
Brings us closer. But there's one
Problem. Yes, the word is out;
I must confess: I have a doubt.

Today I love you--I love you more each day.
Oh, how I wish it would always be this way.
But the fears that whisper to me sometimes
Refuse to give vent to better love rhymes.
And so, my dearest, if I see it clearly,
When I'm hurting, it hurts too dearly.

But at least for today,
I love you, I love you, I love you.

We stay awake, but for what?
It's easy to count loss of sleep
When it's time to wake, but
Before bed, we somehow keep
Forgetting the time. It it because
You hope for satisfaction--maybe
In the kisses we share? Or I
In hopes that you'll talk with me?
Either way, time is wasted
To our selfish love--or is it lust?
Like Augustine, we say yes to both.
Or maybe it's just me, who must
Think that "love" will justify
Anything, or at least pardon that
Which we should not do. But
Feeling good, regardless of what
Love may exist, is still wrong
When indulged too much. And so
"It was our bad habit to carry on
Our games till very late." We know
That "the caresses by which the
Lustful ****** are seeking for love;
But nothing is more caressing than
God's charity." Yet we still think of
Mortal caresses, which we can
Hardly go a night without. If I
Did not touch and kiss you today,
Would you be hurt, and if so, why?

A morning shore, my lover's eyes
Drift into the morning skies,
And honey clouds above his face
Swirl ever round with wild grace.
A gentle touch upon his hand
Reveals the treasures in his sand.
Thus beaming with a wond'rous glow,
Is the gorgeous smile I know.

Lest his surf and sea and sky
Be lost in the ebbing tide,
He built a fortress strong as stone,
The outer walls of his bone.
(Unless there was some higher art
That formed his body and his heart--
God's handiwork at its best
For his gentle soul to rest).

Of handiwork, the best creation:
His hands at work! My adoration
Is great for those, which enduring
Winter snow and summer pouring,
Were weathered like white oakwood.
And while his handsome hands could
Wrestle (and so hard they toiled!),
Their touch never could be spoiled.

Their touch speaks of so much more
Than all the waves that hug the shore,
Than all the winding prints of feet,
Than all the gentle winds that greet
The sunshine caught among the boughs,
Than all the swirling sand in rows,
Than all the shells the bright beach wore--
Their touch speaks of so much more.

My lover's glance, and all his looks,
Are worthy of a hundred books,
Yet even such could not convey
How precious they are. Though I may
Illustrate something somewhat near,
A shadow is barely right or clear.
But one thing I see clearly:
We're "rab ne bana Di jodi."