Dark alleys
are for catious lovers.
Cigarette butts littered
the asphalt
when his lips met mine.

He stole my breath
as easily
as he creeps
into thought.
So powerfully
that
constalations collapse.

Shadows danced
encircling us
teasing of our secret.
Cigarette smoke rising
clinging to me
along with his scent
and affection.

He must have
been carved by God's
and cursed by Ruin.
Fallen to this earth
as a cast away.
His eyes
say so much..

In his arms
I felt
everything
all at once.
The ground shifting
under my feet.
This alley
forever imprinted
with this moment.

Note to Self (and Grace)
____

the simplest bottom line that tops off,
a writ that begins and ends
with its title of
perfect clarity.  

in my brief unremarkable existential passage
the enemy within needs our greatest concentration,
the floods, the pretty ravages, that come unannounced,
from outside creeping in
time-slow and life-sudden,
can't do much about

but the friendly enemies residing in the places hiding
where we have'em close kept, so handy for an instant
royal summons,
thems the apples poisoned we got to worry about,
the ones we grew from a tree planted from seeds in a package that came with a friendly note from the
Surgeon General saying,
"burn the contents of this container,
you'll never finish paying if you let them get planted,"

and yes,
it is 1:54am wide awake and still dying slow
a bit daily,
laughing that I entered myself in a race crazy,
where I am a
a guaranteed loser

so we end where we were born,
let it go.
survive, the (dis)order of the day
and it is
2:10am on just another Thursday,
that will end in the accord
of its own discord

<£>

2:14am

"just one phone call from our knees."
Matt Kearney

in the secluded shell
            of night
   crimson lips unseal
                                                                ­  
 cosmic stillness stirred
   flower ripples tinted
    with touches tender
      on quivering skin
                                                            ­      
       in moon’s breast
     burns a fire tonight
the primeval fire of passion
              in it melt              
   crystals of our emotions
               pristine  

            a night-sky
            bliss-soaked
             bejeweled

  stars hanging complicit

Incarnate

She is
She is the carne of my body
She is the innate of my soul
She is my woman incarnate

she is all I need
in form realized and invisible imagined,
angel and thank god,
devil as well...

June 2014

Would I remain for
Yet another light years

As you smile into
This memory

I look up at you
As I sit there within you

And you wonder for
One more day

Just for how long

The warmth of a bonfire is what I seek,
amidst the chilly alpine milieu, under the sky,
a sky that is clear and dark at the same time.

I wish for the densest darkness
as I yearn to witness the brightest glimmer,
the lucid shimmer of the twinkling starlight,
unmarred by a circuit of city-light.

Misty monsoon in a cup of coffee,
in search of milk-warm sunray
with reasons rolled in a scroll,
entwining fantasy on the window pane,
craves for a life as easy as it was
in the book of the binomial theorem.

Collecting tears that fail
                 to materialize,

Instead I smile with
                 unused frowns.

Emotions spilt like milk
                 I drink deeply

And I just carry on and on...