--------------------

With Both Feet on the Ground

Hello, dear-one.
What say you in this lowly place?

"When twilight traces the terrace,
Touch the torch-sky with the tip of your lip.
               A sweet heat
Will draw your willful mind,
But watch! The torch-sky takes:
               Heart-stems
               Drip
               Drip
               Petals shower
The firelight blaze, like my root vein,
Spills languid and warm across the sky.
               Beauty in elation
               But now breathe out!"

--------------------

Then Into Deep Water

Say, dear-one,
What's all this now?

"The blue of night is sweeping over the torch-sky,
And shadows steal swiftly as silent silhouettes,
               Come coldly dancing
Do not disdain—dreams form feather-light foam,
And fade heavily in a salt-wash, flooding fervently.
                Covered darkly
                Step
                Step
                ­Shiver forward
From terrace to sea my foot falls easily.
Then the eerie eels entwine in the brine.
                Feeling supine
                Let the deep creep
                Until next time."

--------------------

But the Canvas is Brighter Still

Stay awake, dear-one.
Is there not more to tell?

"The search for halcyon has wrought hush-flickers:
Stars  staring brightly stripping night's dark domain.
               Drifting dazedly: humorous
'Theirs is a humming neatly humbling hysterias.'
Whispers Nyx, 'Dwelling hinders what dreaming may fix.'
               Sleeps slips
               Blink
               Blink
               Morning stands
Beacon! Bright butterfly, beckon bravery!
Billow boastfully—this day will be mine!
               Keep in mind,
               It's always divine."

Very good, dear-one,
A fine farewell.

Faerie flitting through the trees
Please, oh please, don't come near me
I don't want your taunts and tricks
Your words are worse than stones and sticks

Though you look so fine and pretty
With your voice that's so bewitching
Your fair, fair face hides mischief well
And all the secrets you won't tell

Your glistening wings, they flutter fast
As you loop and circle past
Lost in the maze of tangled leaves
A shining speck on the summer breeze

Accidence ambience acoustics find
Tractive tactile taciturn went
Cantankerous cantilever capacity bind
Wanton wayward warranty pent
In extremis extremity exigence grind
Apriori aorist actuator glint
Futurity fatidic's fornication wind
Lecherous libido larcenies bent
Lurid livid laconic mind
Exergonic ephemeral extant spent

Love the feeling of words spilling from fingertips. Flowery language is meant to prolong this feeling. It is certain. Writing sternly without hesitation makes the words absolute. For instance when I write, thunderstorms are formed by ocean sweat, it is absolute and without a doubt true. Coincidentally, the previous statement is a great example of how writing extra, unnecessary, adjectives and declarations brings joy to the writing experience, but this sentence is the best. Truth. It is certain. Absolute. I am absolutely write.

Upon the roof, my *** did sit,
And gaped down at the lava pit.
It spit and split, and threw a fit.
So I dropped a couple antacid.

Here and there, and everywhere,
Around the world they are so fair.
Yet here I'll stay and drink the air,
On specific Pacific's blue water.

yo, buddy...
dere's a secret to dis.
First of all,
a good, sturdy bed
of veggies;
carrots, onion, celery
chopped up fine.
Take your time
preparin' 'em.
Start a slow, steady heat.
It softens 'em up.
Now, dose tomatahs.
Y'gotta put your hands on 'em, see?
Firm, ripe globes
is what you're after.
Peel da covers off 'em,
and work 'em gently.
Get your hands right in dere.
Y'should have
a little moisture there by now.
Now, just keep da heat on low
and let things simmer for a bit.
Here's where you add your spice,
whatever floats your boat.
As mild or as hot as you like.
Whatever you do,
keep stirring now.
There may be a little foam
around da edges;
not to worry.
Just lower da heat a little,
so she doesn't boil too quick.
Now, be patient.
If you can let 'er cook for an hour,
dat's good.
Da longer, da bettah.
Soon, da smell
will be everywhere.
Lean in close and get a taste.
A little more spice
at da end, and

**BAM!!!

i believe in self reflection
yet am seeking something to keep me on target
the hours are cheap and never complete
until we have digested the depth of our sorrow
i’ll sing a song
for the children of the dawn
wearing flowers and bows
for gardens can grow in desolate spaces
and flowers can bloom despite your long faces
and i am a lion with canine precision
i am the darkness in the midst of mourning
sorrow is holy
words are worthy
under the impressive sky
i fly to the ethers
out from justice
the berries of hatred
secrete juice that is tainted
and stain our features with their unctuous secretions
did you waver
or did you savor
the fruits they forgot to give you
look for mediocrity in fields of melancholy
and grief strung on strings of bikini anarchy
a blessed nothingness
respect this drunkenness
relax and follow the sound into silence
have you once overcome violence with more anger
or is it smarter to whisper and release the need to be right
than to win a battle
that is taking over your consciousness