outstretched hands,
he begs her
to not step closer

reaches out,
he is already gone
and collapses
inside herself

it was not supposed to happen this way,
he swears
the beautiful warrior

the

saviour

Don’t fall in love with a poet.
By Jude Kyrie

I look into your trusting beautiful eyes.
You are so lovely so gentle and loving.
I wonder if you know yet
you will leave me.
For you are playing
with a tinder box.
And I am a gallon of gasoline.
The fire is inevitable.
You will find out there
A man who is gentle
with a loving heart
He will see only
the beauty in you.
You will have become
tired of my poetry
The emotional roller coaster
I choose to live on.
Weary of the poets afflictions
for red wine and infidelity.
You will fall into his bed
and he will welcome you.
Into his much stronger arms
than mine can ever be.
I shall return
to writing love poems
Poems that are
real to my heart
But to a woman
that cannot ever exist.
I shall frequent
the slam bars of the city.
And sleep with
the women who think its
Romantic to bed a poet.
Yet never ask
my last name.
So strike your tinder box.
Create a spark.
Save yourself
as I ignite into
flames before you.

Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS

In all dreams
there is a bright fondness of things
from our memories,
and those whom we love

Light to light and in kind
the dreaming heart will follow

spirit full and souls
with all that once was and will be
whom we are now with later

Every life as One
cosmic dreaming tree,
stars sparkling
with in deep infinite's
space
of sleep

not death no breath
but just like revisiting

a house or an embrace
of first loves / a home

All the times / together
a quiet place called
perfection

where & when & whom
we all get to know
"cheers to recollections"


To the masterpiece
of every brushstroke

that is where all
                             our dreams must go...

Girl with the gray eyes,
Girl who trips over her words,
her pretty dead stare-

Blue eyed boy, shy, coy,
he grabs her when she stumbles,
he loves when she stares-

Nice weird nervousness,
strange electricity pours,
static, when they touch.

-Jamie F. Nugent

You could speak sentences
Through your cracked lips,
That would make my heart
Miss a beat,or skip a beat,
I can not even tell.

--Jamie F. Nugent