Awake in this room,
I have no recollection of this place.
A view of one thousand spires
From this cracked stain glass window
Threaten to puncture my soul,
Looking up towards the skies
Waiting for what will come forth
While redness fills my eyes.

A warm breeze hits my face
But up my spine I feel a shiver,
How long must we carry on forth
Without a smell or sight of river.

The rocks of ages swim around my toes
As I carry my One on this shifting road --
The peril in the future I cannot dispose
For I know not what the Father knows.

Pastel drawn skies leave no indication or sign
Of who has dared travel,
In this massively miniature
Garden of gravel.

Footprints in the sand
Leave no trace of life,
Lies laid beneath our feet
To a soft electric beat.

No sustenance no rain,
Our bodies permeated by grains
No water to sustain
This traversal through pain.

Hand in hand
Through desert sand
My spine begins to shiver.
Just one more day I say to myself,
Just one more night of chill
Just one more step on this coarse white road,
As her legs begin to quiver.

How do you make love?
It cannot be fabricated,
Desecrated
or violated,
But is to be vindicated.
Maybe perhaps,
We should have waited.

So how do you make love --
From the back
a view of what is now behind you,
Love made,
But with cheap materials
Nothing that can last,
Regret from the past.

--
On the top of what seems to be
A sweet serenade
On a Greek palisade,
The sunlight feeding the love you had made,
To only be shrouded by the moons grey shade.

Making love,
An experience
To be experienced
Through the love of another.
To create the blessing of physical love,
Found new in the rhythms created by the beat of baby,
Unmatchable love made by unconditional lovers.

Cute little thing,
Two rows down.
With her dark locks
Encompassing her caramelised skin.
Those pretty eyes above her pretty lips,
May sell pretty dreams and witty lies.
But beauty,
A man’s Achilles heel,
Has my heart racing like a McLaren wheel.
If only the erratic beats within my chest she could feel.

Her skin without blemish,
At least unto mine eyes.
Her legs without ending,
Forever locked in a dance
That only I can see,
The way she walks she speaks my language,
The way she writes she speaks my language,
When she smiles she speaks my language,
When she sighs she speaks my language.

When her guards fall,
She falls,
Into my love filled arms
A whittled down version of my masculinity puts up arms
And emasculation rears its head.
We lie within this room of red.
Satin silk sheets,
Icing on the bed.

Ultimate fantasy --
Visions of falsified ecstasy
Holding her lying next to me,
Sitting two rows down.

Before the night is through,
I will walk to you,
I will be your moon
And you will be my sun.

Before the night is through,
I will walk to you,
Your words dance on my tongue,
Never to be undone.

A mountain pass,
When my eyes meet yours,
The deepest ocean
Is where her beauty be.

Her lips a sacred touch
Akin to myrrh.
The taste is timeless
A work of art is her.

Miyagi

Deep inside the recesses of my mind,
My many thoughts lay dormant  --
Unwilling to be heard;
My precious thoughts, they're blurred.
Numb to reality,
Gums hit with a needle.
My feelings I cannot express,
My words they find no footing,
A limitless climb of rhythm and rhyme,
Where a handhold at one means to elevate my purpose,
And a handhold at two means to obscure my view,
Of not just the handholds, shrouded by fog
But of the view of the mountain, hidden by the gods.

Self protected thoughts within a shrine, within a castle, never to be revered, never to be revealed.