Polymath Siren,
—in a flower returns

    new stirrings to write
    new melody to learn

Renaissance memory,
  intrudes unannounced

Freeing your psyche,
  past-future recount

A Polymath harlot,
  all love pledged again

With petals now varied,
  and spread from within

Her bouquet filled enigma,
  is here until gone

Leaving always one seedling,
—to finish her song

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2017)

Known as "higher reasoning"
EXPERIENCE confronts belief..
Belief resides in separation
in life's suffering..and longing..
The separate self seeks a path
among religion's offerings..
Searching for beliefs..which fail to
loosen separation's strong grip..
A balm enfolds with EXPERIENCE
of wholeness..of oneness..of identity
as Awareness (I Am..)
This new recognition brings fear
to the self in separation's prison..
Fearful that its upholding belief
is dissolving in an infinite sea..
This resurrection EXPERIENCE...

I want more than just skin...... I want to be more than just common. I want someone to touch the real me---- beyond the body that they see.... I want someone that, can see my pain---- even when I say that, all is well. I want someone that can bring me joy---- when I feel as though I'm walking through..... the lowest pits of hell. That..... was --She. I want someone that's, not looking for help but something real and true..... I'm willing to provide---- but I want to build too--- can't build for us, If--- I'm bound to taking care of you. I want someone who will come-- running to me if, someone hurt them even if--- that someone  looked like me. I want someone who brings more than body to the table....... I can get body anywhere----believe me, I can and I'm able. That was..... He. I want more than just to fall in love..... I want love to fall--- In Love With Me! I  don't want someone that, I can live with..... I want someone that, I can't live without! I don't want someone who could live with me but someone, who couldn't live without me. That was..... They---- Who became.... We! Someone Who!

So I tried to share,
Something beautiful
With even my mother
She's a zombie
Like the rest
Memes,
Few words at a time,
At her best
What will happen?
When we're all illiterate?
When poetry is gone
I believe,
That'll be it
No more humanity,
No more beauty
And that's all I have to say of that.......

No one told me,
Death, was a she
She stopped by my house,
We had tea
She spread her black wings
In my sitting room,
She was beautiful
But smelled of doom,
I called her a *****,
She said to me,
"Sorry, my dear,
I'm necessity."