I would never
Refer to myself
As a
Murderer.

There's no blood
Stained on my hands,

Except my own.

The kaleidoscopic view one perceives,
the material world (and its proclivities)
is the architecture of five senses,
along with the juggler, cognitive mind.

Beyond the shores of the river,
frothing, foaming, flowing mind,
sits the tiger, eyes glowing,
infinite, cosmic consciousness,
ready to eat every illusory construct,
liberate, self and proclaim
"There are no two, everything in cosmos is one"

The benevolent tiger watches the space,
we think real,
                       its eyes unblinking, waiting,
for the igneous moment of merging
sitting beyond the other shore of mind,
it wordlessly assert,"Time is imagined"

Enlightenment, the door to
transcendence  opens
only beyond the realm of time
When the tiger leaps across
and makes its ****,
the door to eternal light is opened,

The tiger is deaf to pleas and demands,
this hunter hunts preys of his choice,
at that moment of alchemy,
the tiger will appear from nowhere,
as savior, obliterator of illusions.
He enters through the door,
of silver morning light.

Maybe Some Of Us,
Feel Extraordinary Pain,
Because We Have Felt,
Too Much In A Past Lifetime,
So We Will Never Forget

On a night like this
I find myself gazing
upon the serene glow
of the midnight moon.

The sterling light paints
the fields and casts shadows;
creating a scene of
surreal silver night.

How the moon dances
in the ebon twilight!
Dancing to nightingale songs,
dancing gracefully.

The shines tonight.
Set aglow by the moon
and all her luster and grace.
Making me feel whole.

And as she departs;
falling to the coming dawn.
My heart tears as I yearn
for that sterling light

Even as the sun
sets the morning dew ablaze
with golden rays so bright.
I watch her leave.

As she descends
from the heavenly canvas
her cleansing light, her touch
leaves the painted fields.

I will remember
that evanescent hue;
the last breaths of the fainting moon
as it leaves the sky.

But it isn't the light
I cherish now.
It is the memory
of that piece of eden.

The piece that shaped me,
that piece that made me whole.

O friend, do not fail me this time
Now that I am in straits so dire
Should you be gone, what shall I do?
Whom can I confess myself to?
It pains me to see your soul drained
Now how can I combat this dread?
It pains me more to think that I
Shall be the reason that you die!
I reminisce time together
Those times when none can get better
You lighten the load that I bear
An celebrations, you're my pair.
All that I know you also know
We are connected soul to soul
I pour my heart as I confide
All that in the day's end happened.
You were there when sorrow kissed me
You double joy when i'm happy
The best friend that I ever had
That through eternity shall stand.
O pen, do not fail me this time
Let me complete this farewell poem.
You who shared a part of my life
Never failed me but just this once.

Your words fill a void.
    Your body, a space.
    No they were not mine for the taking. For the filling.
    Stolen
    No honor amongst thieves.
    I am one.
    Loving your words
    I drink them, absorb them, dissect them. No negligence.
    I'm soaked in them.Choke on them
    And they are no more.
    Disappearing literacy not meant for the masses
    But for her.
    To be her.
    To have words for me. A smile for me. A disgust for me.
    As long as it was for me.
    Selfishness created from your selflessness.
    You are no saint and I will still elevate you high above the regurgitated ooze.
    Belong to no one, no posession.
    Be you
    Be me
    Be us.
    Not love. Not lust.
    An inbetween space.
    Understanding?
    Longing for the same reasoning
    Yet never finding it in eachother.
    Have you words for that?
    Paint a picture with that drab meaningless ink & I'll fill it in with damp, dark color.
    I know you.
    I accept you.
    Keep you.
    Give a little?
    Fill me?
    No more words. Not mine.

lonely people do lonely things
they make homes out of
empty theatres
while they hold
an invisible hand that belongs to
an invisible body that sits
in the seat next to them.

lonely people have lonely habits
they roam the corridors of empty malls,
finding themselves seeing
an entirely different person
in each reflective surface they pass.

lonely people hide in lonely spaces
like the bottom of an empty wine bottle,
or the inside of an out of tune grand piano,
gnawing on the strings and getting them caught
between each bone of the ribcage waiting
for someone to come along
and pluck them just so they can
call it music.

lonely people fall in love with lonely things,
like the inconsistency of the moon
and the overwhelming light of the sun,
getting caught between which one is better to be
in love with,
over which one will keep
the loneliest heart of all
the most
safe.