My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page

My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice

My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right

There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white

I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page

You are no longer the
tortured tumescent terror
you were at twenty.

After sixty, the ****** urge
waxes and wanes,
but still arrives
promptly when called upon.

A kind of peace lives in this.

Arousal now requires love,
whereas when young
it arrived at the glimpse
of a leg or a skirt's flounce.

This is more personal
and more satisfying.

The young deserve lust and
the tempestuous heartbreak
it inevitably brings
when mistaken for more
than it can ever be.

Those older need the touch
of a beating heart
as much as the touch
of simple, hot flesh.

No time remains
for the merely casual.

Your desire reminds you
of ruins, fallen towers,
the pressure of mortality.

You want the body beneath you
to touch your soul as well.

You want to touch it back,
to make it gasp and moan
but to hear it in your heart
as well as in your ears.

You want to hold it close
and keep it near forever,

remembering that forever
is not nearly as long
as it used to be.

No time to fool around;
find someone real
and clutch them as if
they were your last chance,
which they may well be
at any age.

Have ye beheld (with much delight)
A red rose peeping through a white?
Or else a cherry (double graced)
Within a lily? Centre placed?
Or ever marked the pretty beam
A strawberry shows half drowned in cream?
Or seen rich rubies blushing through
A pure smooth pearl, and orient too?
So like to this, nay all the rest,
Is each neat niplet of her breast.

I know your name
And that is all I have
Of you
But in some strange way
You and I are the same
We are nobodies
In a world of somebodies
Lacking in social graces, we are
Obscured by oblivion
Sans the thrill of appeal, we are
Confined to the solitude
Of our loneliness
No true love will touch us
Even though we tried
And tried our very best
Our beauties are unattended
Because no one sees
What's inside of us
But I see you as a delicate flower
Your aura surrounds
Me with splendidness
What's in you is truly good
Though no one understands
And no one ever could
You and I,
The tears we shed are one
Though in this lifetime
We will never be popular
There is another world
That exists far beyond us
And there we shall stay
Without judgment
In men's eyes
Nor jest on women's lips
Friends we are and
Friends we'll remain
Until the sun tires of rising
And the night frowns its gloom
On all our doubts and
All our fears....

Come away with me.....

Little speckled bird,
quirky nerd, owl eyes-
gleaming behind the glasses,
often you zoom inwards
and land in that never never land
beyond the reach of most,
yet I am in love with your
ingeniousness that defies words.
bit strange it may sound
but I am one who explores
the hidden spaces beyond
my desired comfort zones.
they warn me saying a nerd
is a killjoy, nothing else
Swimming against the tide
I hear your excited chirps inside
making me restless with anticipation,
my intellectual slant
received your approval,
many times,I am hopeful
growing my beard long
I'll wait here, till you return
completing your mission.

Night sky over Paris, doesn't speak starry love tonight
intimate soul, maker of my spirit's whole,
Paris would love to hold close to it's broad heart,
didn't we elope through the Metro tunnel
of experiences,then I made you wear my coat
to protect you from winter cold, hid you
in the cozy interior of my memory well lit,
where you wait on a hope, unsuspecting
losing all sense of time.Still at Arc de Triomphe ,
I  wait for the train that never comes, I suspect
you are a prisoner, in the urban jungle of La Defense
beyond the lonely whiteness of Grande Arche
time the marauder comes in without knocking,
he must have took you away, none will know when
the tunnel of our experiences, once we knew are bare
I'll be going alone soon in a dark train to nowhere
where are you, where are you, my voice chokes and fail