The wind howls ******
Off the lake,
Yellow eyes centred
On its face,
Salivating white-capped waves.
Back arched rubbing
A cloudless night,
It claws the land,
Paws at my house,
Playing cat and mouse,
Scratching at my window.
Then crouching silent
It slowly moves,
Then springs, extended
In full flight,
Changing landscape
With one swipe.
Then like one
In the night,
It lies flat
Across my lawn,
Licking
With a milk-dish yawn,
Then prowls away.

Hey, I don't mean any offense, but man,
your lyrics lack essence!

Walking disasters with their gang signs and excuses
of artistic freedom spit out words
and pass it off as lyrics;
with their rebellious attitudes,
rhymes from ******* to *******;
addicted, afflicted, constricted, predicted.
Please.
Words you produce
are misused, overused.
With twenty-six letters and endless combinations,
your lyrics sound more like quotations!
I've heard those stories before.
If you want to stand out,
stand up
and walk through disasters.
I want words
that stir,
that move,
that breathes
a different air into these lungs
who's tired of clones and copies,
words that no longer shake this body.
I want words of liberation,
acclamation of passions,
filtration of frustrations,
words of sensations,
plantations and gestations
of hope and light,
strength that will keep me in sight
of the goals in the Fight.
Now that
is artistic freedom.

*—S.C., October 2, 2014

electromagnetically
feelings occur,
responsive to going ons,
pineal gland awakens the senses.

and almost every woman has heard it
"you're so emotional."
so electromagnetically aware
and we don't remember this,
now,

the womb,
the beat maker,
she tunes the
energy of the babe.
mothers wave of
waves fractionally
lay a deep foundation
of the babes waves.
I tell my children
if they can't find me
to look in their hearts
I reside there…
my rhythm, my beat, my heat
lives on.

my womb
charged that spark
that started the parting
of molecules
fractionally
creating its imagine
time and time again, (as we do)
until, begin again,
a new life.
rest your head upon my chest
child
for a recharge.

in our civilized world
we send mothers to work
in a make believe cycle of need.
babes heart searches
for mamas tone
she only cries short
cautious of overspent energy
first dose of sickness.

and EVERY woman has heard it…
"you're so emotional"
notably more so
during some part of her
moon cycle.
so obviously the moon
is more electromagnetic
than we guess.

and women are more emotional
because we are the heart
of the species.
we co-create the heart
of the species.
we require the emotional
antenna
to summon the essence of the heart.

we didn't come from a rib…
our ribs vibrate the
harmony of life through our time!
our hearts beat
the pulse of the
sun
and the dark side of the moon
and infinity.
we are electromagnetically
inclined to emotions.
systematically processing
the energy of existence.

perhaps the first title I will accept
a claim upon my being,
the feminine sensitive.

The most wonderful moments
Are made up of simple things
A simple touch
A beautiful smile
A naughty wink
The playful arguments
Sharing the dessert
Or the cup of coffee
The kiss of assurance
Caressing each other’s life
Holding hands
Long walks
Enjoying the weather
Talking sweet nothings
Touching each other’s soul
To etch the memory forever
Simple moments we desire
And moments will be eternity
Not complicated
But takes love in heart
To enjoy these moments

The girl at the check out
Clutching the chips and dollar
Gives me an ache
Like a warning shot
In my stomach.

The boy keeping up
Behind his brothers
Gives me an ache
Like filling a balloon
To capacity.

The ******* duel-bladed skates
Bundled like the Michelin Man
Pushing a chair
Gives me an ache
Like a rip in my father's heart.

The one on the hall floor
Eating before his locker
As the gang's off to McDonald's
Gives me an ache
Like an airborne ball
As the buzzer sounds.

The one in the corner of the class,
With cuffs pulled down
And a tattooed razor blade
On the back of the neck
Worries me.

Can I keep this a secret?
You don't see me half the time. I am not perfect.
Read my mind. If you can.

Between these thoughts and feelings in my mind and heart,
The days are like extended
lines at a five star restaurant.

Can I keep this a secret?
You are making me crazy.
See you every long day.
Behind the window of my soul.
My breaking heart is no longer complete,
Eyes on you. I see every day.

Do you see me? Or are you looking past me?
You are always giving me your smile. Do you
Know this beguiles me?
What if,
I could not keep a secret?
Am I the only one,
Feeling this way?

The secret revealed:
"Can you read between the lines? Can you see behind my eyes? Do you know what I am feeling?"

© 2013 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.

He never knew how it felt 
like to be loved. This heart 
of his could only emit it. Born 
with no hands and feet. He could 
only breathe and fabricate amity. 
This girl with her tiffany blue ribbon 
on her hair, drifts him into the ocean of 
her blue aqua eyes. Struck by her 
glance with that ethereal smile akin to 
the moon-crescent. He just knew he wants 
to be with her presence.

She fell for his hazelnut brown 
eyes. As they reminded her of wolves 
howling in the dead of night to the silver 
moon. Shape shifting and bones breaking 
his body is left every night shaking and
aching. He never gave her much information 
about his transformation. “You are my 
moon and ill forever howl to you” he softly 
said.

Sitting on the rooftop where he fathom northern lights will appear in the black night, emitting colours of hope with stars like freckles glinting like they know his wish.
His only wish is to have hands & feet. So the girl with blue aqua eyes would gleam at him like the moon elegant in her eminence.

Knowing her would make him feel 
alive instead of blind , useless and dead. 
"Hold me through the night and cradle me 
like a baby in bed". "You're all that's in my 
head he said. With you I become no longer
blind". "I just feel stronger and refine. Shine 
down your light on me" he said.

As the sun rises waking souls back to their homes. 
Rays of fervour stained on souls who lost hope
Giving them the miracle they hope to prevail.
As he woke up with both hands & feet
He was no longer bounded by stigma in defeat.
He almost died when he held his breath for the longest time. 
When he saw her, the girl with blue aqua eyes said, "Honey, Get up wolf boy it's time to eat."

He was living a dream within a dream
A nightmare filled with fantasies.
He knew then she was the moon gleaming.
Staring at his wife, mesmerized
**That was when he felt that she has brought him back to life.~

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

I hunger for your sleek laugh,
your hands the color of a savage harvest,
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.

I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,

and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,
hunting for you, for your hot heart,
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.