Addiction and becoming redundant is its own sort of hell.

Empire's war flag:
Blood red sun against winter
White as surrender.

1.
The Kind Eye is crying,
The Eye of Love, enlightens.

2.
The Blind Eye will turn,
Insight requires Third Eye (mind).

3.
Clear Eagle-Eyed sights
high glider wingspan soars highest mountains.

He wires money home.

Family duty
Like responsibility
can be a lonely lonely job
A foreign land

How heavy it must feel.
Most times
Responsibility is too busy at work to even feel...

Still, I can't help my eyes falling upon you...
From the other side of the kitchen
Just a passers-by.

To me, responsibility is ****
Attractive.
(But I keep that to myself.)

(Unrequited. Silent.)

Childhood is often seen in
Experiences
Like observations second hand
Snapshots
From inside circus photobooths
Selfies
All day
Way, No way!
Convince ourselves to smile
Unconvincingly
Grin.

How   Time     creeps
In the shadows
Of our worries, fearing
Becoming suddenly all alone, feeling
Memorial.
Remember those New Year's Eves
The Big Apple & Lights
Iceskating at Central Park.
How
Time,
Brief
In the shadow's following
Wha? Afraid of getting
Geriatric?
Got Old?
Fear not the Dark
At departures' arrivals.
You have it all, knowing it's nothing at all
Time gives     meaning
If Love aint
Nothing. Shhoot...

How Time ... creeps ...

(All part of growing up)

******* ****!

"**** if I'd known"

"That's some beautiful ****,
Where'd you get yo ****?"

"All this **** talk and talking ****, ain't half of it all"

" The future, i truly hope, will have none of the **** we got,"

" I'm over this Covid ****"

" What kind of **** do you get into? "

"Don't be full of ****..."

"Durian smells like ****, luckily it's a melon not a untidy person."

"Turn **** into dessert, like dung bettles"

"What's the best **** that ever or never happened to you"

"Colon cancer? Send in your **** in a box."

"Let the lab rummage through your ****, it's a ****** job, oh well"

"**** rolls downward, so slow your roll, *******'

"Make that **** rain, holler! Dollar dollar bills y'all!"

"Smoking a pound of ****, what you doin'"

" **** if i only knew... "

The scent of strong coffee reminds me of the mess hall on the Cleveland; smells of sausage and powdered eggs.. but its the deep brown of that "ground" whether the beans columbian or Starbucks from africa, early mornings now are remiss at 10am.
Pour a bowl of rice cereal, crackling in the milk ... My breakfast with the price is right on the hd flatscreen... The winners and applause motivate the late sleepers, wake and bake --wothout the chaos of fusion kitchens... I miss the smell of coffee in the early morning, on the pier, the brine of pacific highway beaches... Cali a far away dream...
Vegas smells of sin, **** and swill, sweat and skunky trees, smoke gets in the eyes,
Boys didnt cry... Why i wonder. A distant thunder, coastal storm,
Its the sound heard
From lives torn asunder....
Filthy as the ground, thoughts that stay awake with strong
Coffee
Grounds...

I ain't a professional, but i am special-- feel me?

Make self worth a silent market,  words have no value.

Second Skin


I find sleep quite amiable
less resistant
after touching
The timpani of tigers
like prowling
Your other jungle-wilderness .
It’s my undoing
after we have done what we did
Physically
Akin
Our own doubts kept close as
Our tingling, our tender cooing…

The gooseflesh shivers
Birthday suits
Aquiver
In the miasma of life's (bowels)
howling, bowdlerizing
the sensations of our
everyday heaven.

I find sleep more pliable
after a swim in you
and I taste myself
in the salt
of our commingling
skins
        Tingling
Whinging
swathed in mouths
primrose
fragrant waterfalls
thunderclouds /deluge
A downpour.

Seed & Petrichor

in the aftermath
Of our victory
That ******
within and about
our dance of
Skin—I am
washed away
a tiny death
a cry to heaven...

I feel naked
when you're not clothed on me,
how queer to need you
to swim ...

I find dreams much better
aloft
My second skin.

****-Ring (acrostic)



C inch the boys in their place,

O bjectified / at attention,  indecent proposition (pole position)

C rows those proud chicken hawks loudly

K illng the blood-flow - frozen still:

R idgid hoses, denying it any

I rrigation or relief

N either giving it room to breathe

G orged on ***,  in a pulsating noose...

To be without you….

It means nothing to want

Attention.

Seemingly i'm told
i am jaded

my eyes - Abyssinians’
searching for red laser
points
on walls
from pedestrian faces,
since none nor no
one will
never / ever do.

But to be without you
means I am
Nothing.   Wanting  

Attention

Nothing   Wanting
You.

Are you in them rivers?
In those herds?
These lakes of
                     Lips
kissing the silences of melancholy?

Means nothing to
want…

You're poetry

Feeling
      much much more
than
        pedestrian...

How does one "talk" of  "feelings"/ when Love is Poetry.

Downtown Mike’s Halitosis

It's not easy speak
or a Speak Easy
when conversing with him,
dark'ling gremlin toothless grin
but he's your friend so I carry on
with Yoda in the corner of my mind
"judgmental you must be not"
and Comicon's collective excitement fading
as the light will do in the west...

We speak easy with the circling
of the communal pipe
crystal peace in mists of glass orbs
oil burner fog horns
piercingly in & between my ears
but its not so easy to ignore
the scent of death in his halitosis

We spoke of Superheroes
their idiosyncratic identities
His secret celebrity crushes  
envying Green Lantern’s ring finger
he speculates on Cyclop's orientation,

"Y don’t you make me an X man, professor?"

Informatively encyclopedic volubility,
Mike speaks queerly and toofless
yet well versed on oral
said he rims pacific beach boys
(And I can smell the white lies
wafting from his mouth)
as I color at his studly fairy tales
and his idolatry of prepubescent innocence
the hyper kind of *******
as he verbally recalls the taste of how sweet
the sweet untouched were...

"The most gorgeous boys I’ve ever seen
in **** or anyplace on the face of the planet
comes from and are probably ******* now
in Europe... Mmm, European boys...
I want to use my life’s savings to go there
enter the war zone and come back wounded..."

I can't even imagine
Shrapnel jacked backside, points and protrusions
grandiloquent mouths and holes full of
enunciations...

"Fourteen is the age of consent there..." he is smiling
a caricature of a wolf *** fang less
Such a pseudo wanna-be
possibly already
******* friend from the broken rainbow factory,
how I chuckle uncomfortably
shake my head disbelievingly

oh the humorous horror of it...

(I'm grinding my teeth, until I notice myself
doing so and get an image of him
with a gummy grin,
I preoccupy my thinking
nodding as I half-heartedly half listen)

Long line for noodles...
Symbol of emperor's wealth:
A mythical beast.

GAYS (acrostic)


Giiirl, nah uh, no you didn't...

Anyways, back to moi, how do I look?

Yesterday his name was Manny, now it's in transition...

Snaps her fingers in circle motion, rubbernecking.


Fruit (senryu)

Youth around the "Loop"
In flaming Hot-Pink boa.
Daisy Duke at Pride.

Urban Dictionary : 1. A snack that one might find "sweet pleasure" in eating.
2. A flaming flamboyant homosexual.
#fruity

Trans
Lucent/Soul
              Exude inner Glow
You are unique, endangered
You know
              Love
Trans
Parent/Soul
                       Shine
You are kind / one of a kind
(Even inside
Don't cry)

There're none
Like you, who
                 Love
Although

Trans/ient
           A Fish-Sparrow
Elsewhere here
After/
         Glow.

Trans
Migration
Ocean sky space void
Lo & behold...
More than girl or boy
Trans
Figuration
Of choice
Freely
Lovely
Of souls... Go
A star of the nights
Trans/
Formation
Explode!

Supernova brilliance
Beyond
Transience
In Betweens
Life you've known ?
You go girl/oh boy....

Fish/sparrow
Sparrow/fish
                 New Soul  
     ( Oh joy....wish. )

Men are the loudest, proudest
Animals
Howling Hollering screams
That he is the apex predator
Most intelligent in this blue bubble.

Pride is known to be a sin in the Good Book
I mistook for the kind of pride that walks with love for our sons,
I realize now,
It is self/ prideful boasting
Blaming bliss of ignorance
Conquering the weak
Who are the meek
Newborn heirs?
Possession/ obsessing over
Breath & breadth alive
Unknowing
Innocence
Outside his walls of boxes.
What is inner light of beings
Only human afterall?
What are animals without their nature?
if let to live as themselves
Still will die
Minds thirdeye blind.
What would be Man without his rhyme?
Man is the Loudest Animal.

Arrows from Babylon to Heaven
Only fall back down returning his own jealous fury.

What is silence to that sound?
Words of war machines speak not for Heaven,
Can't blame any rain that falls
Nor claim to be above it all...
Man is loudest and proudest
Of all...

(Hide behind thy marble halls,
What is Life to mortal ones)

(Pondering Worth)

Money does not make someone better than another who has less of it, money in itself cannot "make" anything at all. Yet it has unmade human kindness, damnable men and taxes.

If it's supposed to be "Do unto others as you would--done unto you.." The Golden Rule then presumes to say that All are equal.

There's no quantification or monetary value when it comes to "Life" it just IS or Isn't (alive). It's no one's business, it has no business. So then, begs the question Why do Men think themselves better or above it, divisively deciding what or who has the right to?
What is Man if not Alive? Why?
Who speaks for creation when men go to destroying the Garden?

Packaged in a box,
a handle like the baggage
She carries around.

"Doctor said to look for blood in your stool, what color's that **** suppose to be? "

" Get over your **** already"

" Tired of your ****. "

" Knowing all the **** that you've done, better pray for your ****. "

" It's no fun picking up ****, or cleaning up after people's ****"

"Don't give me that ****"

" I call *******. "

"**** doesn't bother me, **** don't surprise me either. "

" It's all turning to **** anyway"

" **** ain't free no more"

" Don't make it about **** that's outside of your own ****. "

" Time for some better ****. "

" Back in the day, **** never needed trending"

" **** flew by"
" Barely remember all the **** we got into. "

" You deserve an award for your ****. "

" How do we fix the world's ****? "

"You **** a log, **** was big, clogged up the toilet! Ain't that a ***** coming from a little person"
Ironic ****.

"Did not ask for crap, but bit into a **** sandwich. "

" Just for ***** and giggles. "

Of.
Free Will & freed Mind,
Learn as you go...

But what's the meaning of (this)
Life? Just?
"Simply: life is lived."
Our planet's dying with blight in the pit, dark well full of children's wishes, echoing unanswered in the Ether
How the darkness hates

Life, simply because
It's yours to love.

(Home is where the heart is)

Symmetry of our tears to drops of rain, to drink if ever we thirst,
I sleep just to dream ...
For dreaming is Proof of Life.
To wake to your face
Ill swim in the sunlight
And be blinded by your grace
I sleep yearning to wake
Dying full of wish
Volcanic
Inner
earthquakes

"Ain't that some messed up ****"."

" **** has hit the fan. "

" Is this **** legal? "

" That's some racist ****. "

" I didn't sign up for this ****. "

" Don't blame your **** on gin & juice. "

" **** is dope. "

" What a **** hole they live in. "

" What kind of **** are you trying to sell now? "

" Call that **** for what it is. "

" You lying *******. "

Freedom Cries
Latter tears
For all the lives that lie
Beneath Founding Fathers' Liberties its feared
Swept under rug
In white toupees, french rolls
Talcum powder white
Land of blood & milk & honey
All the earth bestowed by God
For He so loveth man
Genocide wipe out the indigenous
Seed
The native son's lost histories
The world wide invasion
Like a web

Problem is people is
The virus to nature's maturity
Under Founding Fathers'
Liberty.

Life's propriety made property.  
We're lost on the run
Ignorants in bliss. Hail capitalists, consumers injesting under the gun...
What the frack is happening
Running out of hacking breath
What father knows best
Can't outrun Death.
Sionara all the best, god bless...
Out of breath.
And Done.

I'm not worth it says myself esteem, though knowing me being me, i'm not worth any penny, but heavenly heavenly love is echelons beyond counting countanences, of fathers or lover's gold. Beholden i am told by the indifference i keep secret
Umbilical cut
Like a knife to the cliche of the heart the hurt of giving birth
Deeply latter in your age
Sob to how it feels
It hurts being born, divorcing the boy she owned, she's owed a medal for keeping
Sacrificing the lives we yearning for burning looking back
Dont gorge on wish in
Life speed
You may miss
Something worthwhile substance
From an inside pride
Calculating my own self
Worth,
I am a gentleman
If anything
An open door of karma
Thanks be
Now i know, what's it worth
In boohoo bad hairday
Pity party's over it
We all grow
Out of it.

Spitfire, cruiser;
Trucks for a hau'li's longboard.
Leaning into it.

"why not enjoy the Go?"

"It was like getting **** on."
"The **** that comes out of some mouths, i swear..."

"Don't you touch that ****. You get hooked on that ****. "

" At a hundred dollars a plate, that **** better be delicious"

" ****'s better on paper. "

" What's all this **** about? Who did that ****?! "

" This is my ****, get your own ****. "

" Yours smells like everyone else's ****,  it ain't roses. "

" Bury the sticky ****. "

" That **** hurt, but once you're numb you can't feel ****"

Love is the Phoenix, Perfect Present Tense, direwolf & perigren falcon, Ra to Baste. Sun to Moon.
The universe in you.

Poetry is the colorful way we celebrate love, the vibrant joy that is felt through music, our lungs full of song, our life's choreography. Poetry is the motion of our hearts & souls, how love moves within & without us; how brilliantly life dances, how poetry breathes the colors of us -- vividly uniquely human/poetry.
We are poetry, poetry is love.

PAST LIFE

Palms read at a Psychic Eye,
Queries for her tarot cards
A youth full of doubt asks why
Who was I
In the chaos
far long gone,
Before this breath fast / Falls to sleep.
From dreamy wish to bones
Six feet deep...past life of one
Mr. Nobody,
Graduation Class of ‘93.
Who was he before?
Doubt the fortunes could tell us more
That Old ghost inside this shell...
As she Unveils dark curtains
Her many wares to sell...

  “Once you were a shaman,” she says
To her mark she barks
“Before the white men came“

From not that far
The wild untamed
Such heights
Native son, you will light
The ways made dark
Though this feels like a hollowed heart,
Pause then / when
She begins to sob
Feelings / wars inside
(not lost)
Just a small spark of light
At nightly cross
Until our ends
Space/time is a canvas
To only behold
What was now
Fast awake
Like stars that guide
Ships of old, arrive as new
life.
Who knows...

“Once that shaman was you...”
Who knew you
Were then
Back when
Before our human birth
Returns to the earth,
A life of dirt without worth
Oh how human it is to hurt
See the light
Beyond the wealth or power
Of church.
Look outside there is life
Past future
Gift.

Live.

Alone


Unfolding...

I am mourning before the dawn
unveiling
crumpled bedspread sheets
a hollow space
where comfort once found
your slumber deep,
I find an echo
of your breath
as my tears interrupt
a yawn / a stretch

while trust feels like a home
invasion,
a **** save for the flesh...

I am a trail of moisture
upon the cheeks, the searching
throughout a graveyard home
yielding empty halls,
bleak,
of no fruition / a tomb;

I am the ache within
Darkly,
My harsh and sordid
imagination / disambiguations
roaming
To thoughts of you
in someone else's fever
a slicing cut that opens
and equals that pain

unleashing avalanche of blood
but it's only a crimson thought
which floods,
again & again...

I’m in that home, now
kept unkempt
like the dust on portraits’
sepia gloom… and
the sound of bare feet
clapping
hardest upon wooden floors

In a saloon
lacking conversations
without a care taken
of why / from where / or whom

I once had strength
which waned
Like the more ocean waves
punch the cliffs and shore,
my reserves began again to drain.
I collapse into bed
On pillows, I lay.

I am the hope which wants
what lived once before
Loud out-cries' / begets prayers
to ancestral sky
fearful hearts and minds
life alive yet
Afraid
to die….in due
Time
            I am a tomorrow of love yet made
inept of any trust
I have been blind told to break...
            (My iron will to rust)
I am alone
since gone are the yesterdays
you romanced such secrets
with escapades
(grinders found in spades)
I am the hush that must escape

never getting to know
the calligraphy & the colors,
all the facets of love's very face,

unfeeling
replaced
I am a violin
from some distant space,
far and away
a wish
a yearning
as California’s burning

Asking kindly

Love me
if only
for the sake of today
for I am
lonely...
for I am the light
each night

unfolding...

White ***** with no teeth,
Says she's hustlin' like it's work.
Junkies lie and steal.

"*******!"

"If you ain't fixing to ****, get off the ***"

"****-head"

"Take a whiff,  cuz I'm the ****"

"Eat **** and die, *******! "

"what kind of **** are you trying to pull? "

" **** for brains"

" That's the kind of **** that'll **** up your ****. "

You are an island of reality in an ocean of diarrhea--jason mraz

* * *

"Talk to John about your ****."

"Got fired for that ****."
"Got paid to do ****."

"No ****, really"

"Its all the same ****, different day"

" Words are only words, you ain't ****."

" Time to get woke, and get **** done."

"oops, just Sharted"

" You'll pay for that criminal ****, if you didn't know"

"Shiiiit"

" Don't sleep where you shat"
" Don't **** where you eat"

"Quit the ****
If it don't help your **** or
Better your ****"

A Gracious Lover’s Kiss

1.
Poetry is
Writing what all we felt
When the heart is asked
To translate.

Poetry is
Love,
Made malleable
Through the eyes
Which behold beauty.
Poetry is Life,
The love of life, malleable.
Poetry is meant to be
Touched by
To be moved by
(and with)
Love...

Poetry is
A song of words
A dance of exuberant emotions
A Grace
       Full of gracious
(a)  Lover's kiss.

Poetry is
Jump for joy and stabs of sorrow
Sculptor Singing Sepulchers
Molding nights & days
A mash up
Into one and the same
Something brand new
Reinventing
Recollections
Of / For / To  - You
True blue or Red hot stuff
We lie to believe in
Ourselves
Something better / New
Flower Love Child
You had better
Best believe
Poetry is
You.

2.
It's not what you're looking at,
But what is seen.
What you see / what you feel
In the zeal of heart's appeal
A beautiful up-lifting
To artistic heights

Poetry is
Mortality made miraculous
Charisma and magic
Choreography of verb / Oh's Of nouns
All the world - a profundity
Of Our lives
Whether lost or found

The Love letters / in red envelopes
Your heart
Crowd surfing
Amongst the herd;
Blossom bouquets of passions
Poetry is

The quietude and secrets
Kept
In the shade
In a home, a warmth made
Or an ode to a glade,
For the night
Of the empty souls'
Respite

Poetry is...
Your bleeding heart
Shining bright
Your Grace
An invisible light
Only to be seen
By knowing
One's true
Feelings

Poetry is
A Painting
Of Love's loud moments...
It's not what you gawk at,
But what is gleaned.

Poetry is...

How We Do Family



The older elders have their superstitions,

Tiny rituals they keep under their breath

Spitting

Wards & incantations

Sweep of broom stick, and what the hex?

Is Grams commanding demons

“In the name of the Father

And his son Jesus!”

“To get out of this house?!”


We all have one of those…

The lost cause / loose cannon

Black sheep first cousin

Into *******, or something unacceptable.

Perhaps their smell or appearance?

But with all the many different kinds

Of races of people / faces

Painted, pierced, gold plated,

We are biologically similar

Homosapien kin

Bleeding tribes, clans, houses,

Fathers and sons

Who believe in war for the higher cause$

All above

Behold Us here below

How does life persist panhandling

When the world dies in

Misunderstanding...?


But we tolerate our

Alchy parents, addict uncles, ****** aunts

Long lost siblings on / Suicide watch …  

Because our humanity for our family

Shouldn’t change what our eyes must see…

Can’t push brick mansions

But we all can climb those very walls,

It’s how we do family

(Together standing tall)


Love accepts without opinion

Without doubt or regret

No hate to have dominion

Peace be (Unconditionally)

And All the best.

How we do...

Inspiration is Divination.


Definition : Divination – “the practice of prophesy, of seeking knowledge of the future, Unknown, by supernatural means/divining”

Definition : Inspiration – “the process of being
Inspired by, being stimulated to creativity,
The Art, of beautiful things divine from humility.”




Inspiration is Divination,
A sort of magic / making
The mundane as Muse,
The inspiration, a beauteous thing
All eyes fall upon / to worship.

Inspiration is Divination
Reanimation imagination perspective
Shaper of reality —how doth vision?

When it’s sheens / of wetness
On smoothest stone / after the rain
Rays of daylight piercing gray,
At an angle, for a split second,
It appears / to shimmer like a jewel

A perspective moment, introspective worth
Of rougher stone, good enough
To gaze upon
So intrigued / interestingly…

The briefest breath of curiosity
The strange queries of such gravity
The mundane / beautiful things
All that our lives make to sing
Poetry’s butterfly wings.

Inspiration is Divination.

Traveler.


I am the Eagle with wingspans
Of impossible delights
Who argues with it it's flight
Incapable to be free
In a sky without the Light

I am now a ghost
Here reading poetry
Its once living years:
A breeze through eyes
Filled with tears;

I am the gargoyle pacifying all fears
Past the darkest night.

This is a wish, a kiss, deep
A hopeful sigh;
Hands bound, fingers clenched
For Love to deliver me
From here/now
To a place called perfection.
Beyond
Infinitely.

“I am fish/sparrow”
Swimming in the in-between
Looking to always see.
No end to the ends…

Sunrise and free.

Sin City with blinders,
Bird **** on the windshield

A herd of burly men in pastels and summer shorts
A row of parked rental Lamborghinis
Commiserating and taking selfies,
Loudly showing off,
Posting on social media or
Dating Apps
Snapchat snapshots
Hotshots in Sincity with the bling ca-ching!
It's a ****** rental, for christ-sakes!
Where's Dateline's to catch a predator,
What good is a thousand words when the picture is telling lies?
What happened ? In Vegas,
Bright lights' bite, vice, and ****, looks like magic.
Sin city running with blinders.
Birdshit on the windshield.
A dry desert thirsts for rain.
(Empty swag bags....)
****'s all the same.

Smoking trees
Painting poetry on the web
Held hostage via
Snapchat clap traps
Viginas, analogued
**** was making the internet...
Smoking Grass all the while
Homegrowns not a lone
(Fringe science)
They hide us in the darkness of ourselves,
Seeing eyes from on high
Our most inner deeps
Life's great oceans ride
Dauntless be,
Write your poetry
By how you give a hand
The last boy scout
Smoking trees.

Such dark dark things that men believe
And given gifts from Heaven
Still suffering in prayers to be set free
The prisons of our realities
With these dark things that men believe
Given daily gifts he can't bother to see
The Agonies of Me Me Me
Chasing shadows in the dark
Things of want, heavy with needy
To be pleased (in pleasures)
Oh dark thing is Man's belief.
Good grief, Charlie Brown.

To Spoon the Moon


I make smiles from shattered eyes
cry December's distracting fractal frost
move my soul with hopeful sighs
and pray our devotion is not lost

It is the eve of renewal's glee
gave sad promises to spoon the moon
but in the haste of glass we freeze
pose with strangers who fill our room

sweat bemoans my reaching hand
your eyes are vacant with his lust
he bids the hours by your command
we smoke our feelings into dust

this boy is weak yet worships you
opens darkest gates to breed
now enter light that stirs, confused
my tears to scream still go unseen

i am a wish of hearts refused,
the sound of falling poetry...

Gypsy

“All I have are the embers of our fire...”

A Tambourine, and the evening is beckoning
through the distance
of time : a serpentine road / echoes
the colorful blouses and silks
the memory of indigo fire
casting lithe shadows outside the starry nights
fat with celebration
merely a breath from the walls
of this weathered tent...

You were a storyteller on my skin,
your lips like fireflies igniting the dark,
where only the cold unseen
had gone untouched
until the blaze of the daystar horizon
engulfs without consuming or burning us.

You were wildfire magic:
the emperor stag or wolf or stallion
and the world is one kingdom
with many heirs
and bright castles.

There is a fire for keeping warm,
and fires so hot to shape iron into swords,
you are both,
  mine
And mindful of the wilderness.

Every camp we make
a home to hold the ember's glow.
Perhaps we stay and grow stronger roots,
claim the dirt and dig for its gold,
Replace old hat and dub it a crown?

Nothing  lifts like
    wind ‘yon embers…
But if love were not around,
life would have no fire
no warmth can be rendered.

If your love were not around...
(I surrender)

If only Schools could teach us how to learn well.

Winged Kiss


A wave of a hand
a wand
a wink
             a nod   or  blink

a winged kiss...

You wriggling your nose
spurns me to rub your lamp

I dream of you
as I often can,
           magically and yearningly
I divine your eyes…

What curse or bliss
(Too much of this)
to be abused by your smile
from the muse of your wiles,
all the while
Truly
in our Utopian isolation
no other image of what must
or emulation of their love or
such none-such nonplussed

"you'll die, oh you just must"
dumb struck crush

while we paint ourselves tender
in writhing naked laughter
our own canvas
signed by us...

and only just
ourselves to Van Gogh
"Water Lillies"  and  
"Starry Nights"
       in your blush...

there I can see the future
of your worth
a masterpiece of our colorful theatre
inspiration's lovely birth

in the museums of my lungs
in my life
the art we shape with time
with touch...

what curse or bliss
this wish
come true

a wave of a hand
a wand

                        Our winged kiss.

Spirit-Walk


Panacea
            Predestined
                   ­     Predeterm­­ined manifesto

The Mother’s womb where spirit blooms
Instinctual wonderment

Yet the kind are almost extinct
Wish and her screaming wings
To stars moon dreams…

The loneliest finds wisdom
Northward believing
So gains his willful strength

Being
            A “Self” beginning
                        Un-scrawling secret

Once lauded in lament
Gone are its notes
And perforce coins’ anarchy

Collects in its place, pockets full,
Full of glory beauty
Accounts rather for star gazing,

Advice with considerations
Glow
Knowing now a purpose
In the Truthful

Journey
         Destined
                   Fulfilling

The lesser roads to constellations
Worthy of ghosts memories din
Renderings from every heaven
                      In evenings, the stars, destiny is written.

The wisdom of mortal men is not experience, but his faith in believing
He'll live forever
Entitled
To heaven,
It'd be wise to ask forgiveness
What was made can be broken
Misinformation games
Americana den of thieves
It's wise to not deny but let the whole world speak

There are no sides to a perfect circle,
Make Life alive
Evergreen & Free.
How wise to remember.

Save the trees
Plant its seeds
Love the World.

Peace!

The clouds are rolling in
Loud--the thunderin'
Now the storm's begun,
Rain falls upon the stone.
No wars are ever truly won.
Dark clouds are rolling in....