You were supposed to be a stranger.
We were...
Strangers with a shared kiss.
My brain was washed with alcohol,
With the snippets of memories left.
I forgot your  name...
and how we met.
That one fateful night...
You were supposed to stay a stranger
Instead you traced my step
The world is too small for us.
Who would have thought that
you would find me?
You even got my name wrong.
Your description was spot on.
The friend of your friend knew me.
You should have just left it as it is...
A beautiful memory by the beach -
with a stranger.

1.

waking up to a city where dreaming is clichéd
and lives and lies
of old men
find their way into books
with covers that have
fornicating ants
in the backgrounds
and words like the gutter
strangers and cool
to the touch.

2.

this friendship ***** and you know it
we keep finding ourselves
in each other’s arms
wandering
as if drunk
it’s hard not to hold my hand to your lips
and feel your hot breath
on my palm
yesterday you kissed me
while I was asleep
and left without waking me up
but your lips left a delicious imprint
on mine
and my cat meowed at it
all afternoon.

3.

we took to the empty streets like a disease
and ended up blaming
each other
for getting lost
in the emptiness

they called our names
on the speakers
over the fairgrounds
under the balloon bridge
around the candy cart

everyone heard it, but us
we were too busy getting lost
by then

she slides her slender
white fingers down the
branches of his spine

her eyes melted like
glaciers and lips as soft
as freshly fallen snow

skin lustful, but heart
unforgiving, exhaling
his every intention

she is autumn in his
palms, her trees bare,
the leaves rust fallen

flashing indifference,
thoughts plucked in
shades of violent rose

Let me breathe the smoke between your thighs,
The way a drowning man breathes water -
my Queen of Oysters.

I will sup til hungers end
           the elixir
then sup, and sup again
the banquet of your flesh
with the thousand tongues
of my fingertips and eyes.

This Alligator that hides amongst daisies -
let him sleep in the black garden of your hair

           O concubine of Saturn

Open slow to the brush
rough hands spring petals
that gambol and gyre
in great prickles
through
the spine and scalp.

Let us run to the moon, together
or sleep til the noon, apart.

My Queen of Oysters,
Let me sleep in the black garden of night.

dead bodies floating
in our oceans
from the Asian Pacific
to the Mediterranean

crumpled corpses lying
on our beaches
thousands drowned unknown

overcrowded detention centers
not unlike concentration camps
behind barbed wires
guarded by police and snarling dogs

nobody feels responsible

not  those who started wars
destroyed whole cities
made millions homeless
and into refugees

not those who take advantage
of the chaos for their own gain
abusing the names of their gods
or some ancient figurehead
to excuse their atrocities and greed

not those who live
in comfortable homes
and wish the desperate crowds
would just stay on the TV screen
and not come close

nor those who pretend
to be the guardians
of our great humanitarian heritage
but show no backbone
against nationalist fanatics

it is the shame of the world
to sit and talk and watch
and not do enough

those who turn away
the needy and homeless
could also
      quite suddenly
lose their homes

forced to rely
on the kindness of strangers

Darkness pervades; an empty whole.
Tears fill this broken bowl.
The nectar too salty to quench the thirst
A brutal reminder of what came first

A Blackness, a Void. God illuminated into being.
Beauty, Belief, Faith - a false way of Seeing.
The futile attempts to make the hole whole,
but it's Loneliness that resides in our Soul.

In every being sprung into existence
the Romantic effort of Man's resistance
is Love, hailed as the Cure.
But ask yourself, "Are you sure?".

At a life with Loneliness by our side
Love's importance becomes amplified.
But Love is just a wishful lie
it is Loneliness that embraces us as we die.