I met a boy who's shy
as a fox. He has hair thick
as it's fur. Eyes big ,
round and glow. I met a
boy who's free and wild
like the untamed wolves
who roam around the woods
in the silver moonlight. He's
the boy I love. The boy that
i saved from shapeshifting
in the dead of night. One kiss
before midnight stopped his
body from aching and shaking.
It stopped his bones from
cracking and breaking. One
kiss was all it took to cure his
curse. But he will always remain
my little wolf boy. The boy I
met when I was wondering lost
in the dark. The boy i touched
before he shifted into the
creatures of the night who
hunt for prey and mark their
territories with their paws
and claws* ~

Moments of impact.
There was a second there before the kiss.
The ungodly hour spent
     And the night of secret fireflies.

The grains in an hourglass,
     How innumerable still.
There was a time I yearn for emptiness.
This loneliness, heaped up on my chest,
And in the afternoons,
     The melancholic burn.

A glimpse of your body.
The affinities of flowers
     With the bud.
An eternity of this and that, of improbabilities,
     Or of unrequited love.

A night without a star.
     A day without the sun.

But the sun's without a day,
     Without you.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

I stare into the mirror.
What do I see?
A sack of flesh and bone
Powered by fear of death.
I lean in to examine my face.
What do I see?
A glittering mask ******* on by
The expectations of spectators.
I peer into the depths of my eyes.
What do I see?
My soul fading after each tick of the
Clock -- a race to be somebody.

Mosquitoes
Pesky little pests
Mosquitoes
*******'s of ******
Mosquitoes
Sucketh out mine blood
Mosquitoes
I'll smacketh them in their ****'s
Mosquitoes
Cometh by the swarm
Mosquitoes
Thine wings art mine, tonight they shalt be torn
Mosquitoes
I hate noone but thee
Mosquitoes
Like bedbugs, roaches, and flea's
Mosquitoes
Taketh all the cruor thou canst tonight
Mosquitoes
Thou hath lived for a few days
Tonight's thy last night
MOSQUITOES!!!!!!!

Die thou little blood ******* devils!!!!!!

What be more grandiose than poetry,

     expound at your own discretion,

   bottle sunshine, save it in a jar,

    tie an affectionate knot, spread it around

     flood desert mirages with flowing spirits,

speaks kindly and murderously about love,

  can tempt winds to uncoil temptation's gist

****** upon or written asunder desperation

    relentless in its seizing of human behavior,

magnifying moonbeams or star's decimation

    perfumed magnolias to winter's cruelty,

  call of the wild midst sweetness of fresh rhubarb pie,

infinitely vast in its incalculable grasp of predication,

  beyond limitless infrastructures 'neath fancied significance

They said that I made a better storywriter than a poet
Whatever!
Poets get their ideas from stories but my creativity comes from a glass of Moet Chardon(
A poet is someone who looks for adventure and there I was
On the back porch enjoying the Island breeze
The surging wind made it way through the tall propaganda trees
The trees act as obstacles to wind, somehow those propaganda trees made the
portable air conditioners seem useless in comparison
A family of monkey kept up their appearances daily: jumping from branch to branches
Breaking off bunches of oval-shaped young’s apples, like a morning ritual
while keeping a close eye on me: I capture the moment as it presents itself
Meditating and thinking about making right choices in my life:
My Nana once told me that propaganda leaflets were good for brewing tea to lower one’s blood pressure.
How many times can someone test the cold, cold icy water to realize that it wasn’t suitable for bathing?
That was my was way of dealing with difficult seasonal romance
I am now getting to understand Amy Winehouse struggle with love, relationship and commitment
Going to rehab may mean having to deal with difficult people, however, my addition is far more complicated
Making right choices is my life mission.

Happiness ends
with the pronunciation of
*****,

I learned that
in third
grade.

I giggled as the word
left my
throat

Today I take it
as a sign

that happiness

has always
been a joke.

You're giving me love
When I feel unlove
You're giving me peace
When I'm in chaos

You're giving me joy
When I'm unhappy
You're giving me comfort
When I'm in pain

You're giving me provision
When I have nothing
You're giving me strength
When I feel weak

How grateful I am
Having someone to lean on
Hoping that You'll see me
Having a grateful heart.

I hear
the blank page call me
I see the white empty needing
the urges haunt me
to breathe into life
a hymn

a mind
thing for my
nightly hell calling
a hearty dream
or
nightmares.