Held tenderly within  angel wings
He released his most inner secrets
And I silently wept for the strong
Hard man with the child in his eyes

Oh Lemon Tree with golden fruit that hangs heavy in the summer sun. Oh bitter fruit, that grows for natures amusement. So much do you look like an orange, yet you are bitter and cause children to make funny faces. Yet there are things for which you can be quiet useful. Your juices can clean through many a foul thing and properly blended with sugar cane you can make a refreshing drink or a delightful pie. So oh **** fruit with the golden shell, grow faithfully in the bright sun, until some unsuspecting passer by samples you, not knowing of your bitter surprise that is kept beneath a beautiful golden façade .

The journey
to real self-love
is not always easy
      There are so many elements
                          that can trip you up:
                            jagged rocks
                               that slightly jut out from
                              the silken, earthy surface
                            paths of black ice
                         that look clear          
    but slide you from your course
  their invisibility
only tangent
  after the fall
     light flash floods    
        that turn into monsoons
           at a moment's notice  
                                             a reflection of clear blue sky
                                                 that somehow turns
                                                    into a seemingly solid wall
                                                 But if we can hold on
                                             and somehow stay connected
         to the shining root within
       let it hold us in place like an  
      invisible anchor
         the floating umbilical cord
            that connects us
              to our inner mirror
                deep reflection
                  and resurrection
    Then we will know
     that every slip
    is truly temporary
   and only leads us to the
    improved firework
   of ourselves:
                              for nothing can stop us
No matter what
we will blossom into
the very electric flowers
we were meant to,
and, at our own
blessed pace,
     burst into
    the gentle ululation
   of
       the stars

I am retooling myself
Into the man, who honors integrity with daily exercise,
Into the words of a poem, a new stanza added daily,
Into the notes of a song, yet to be complete,
Into the symphony p, a theme that lifts, soaring above the commonplace,
Into the jewel multifaceted,  colors deep and husky,
Into the essences of love, always learning, dispensing hatefulness,
Into the fury of a great warrior ennobled with heroism,
Into the dexterity of fingers that dispense living kindness,
Into the vibrancy of an orchid, born from tiny seed and falls soil,
Into the vessel science and technology constantly reforms, evolute,
Into the words of a book before his eyes, before closing time, clutched with purebred pride.

Each day is kindling
Night time consumed in desire

She is a matchstick
to my wild raging fire

Her thoughts are made of gasoline
Her touch is so hot

When she holds me
My whole world will rock

She is an angel with a robe made of fire
She licks at my flesh
and the flames shot higher

She is an angel
burning brightly in my might

She will devour me
trying to make ash out of the night

I will be the devil
To her earthly delight

But I refuse to burn
I wIll not ignite

She is an angel , a flame of delight
She is my angel
As we burn down the night