Oh how the flow of ink can make one so happy,
When pen hits paper magic can occur,
As long as the flow of ink carries on,
I will be satisfied.

They cut my palms from wrist to *******
tethers that were my formation of all were
sacrificed for there gratitude for my sight was
not to be formatted into a form there eyes to yield
A difference of consciousness and so my embodiment
of creation was but word and thought.

But I knew if I was too breach the wind. what could not
be penned though even many had blossomed from
cognitions of knowledge. these seeds of enlightenment
would be severed from the root. I would be
a mute as the clear sky nothing but wisps of
colour but nothing seen or heard.

I am a poet a drawer of creation either malignant
or statuesque, Words that could open a thousand
doors in the subconscious or unbar that singular one
that could enlighten the world. But alas I am
of a place where my thoughts are but a jest that would
be expunged from others minds.

**"I linger in infinitely, but I am but a grain falling for a moment,

( THE LOVE POET )
His verse, like a precious petal, from an exquisite flower
Slowly unfolds, leaving a luscious space, for a poesy to devour

So each breadth, between every efflorescent petals bloom
Is filled, with his alluring words, as one by one they spume

Every phrase, so intricately woven into their beauty, inlaid as a ransom
For his tendrilled script, like a florets mantling, to expressingly blossom
                                                              
Then, like a nectars infusive fragrance permeates through the air
So do his words, release bouquets of love, for all of us to share
BOEMS BY JA 587             copyright 09-18-2016
Be well Stephan

In my heart
There is something
Like blaze
Of light
Like morning dream

beautiful people out there and time so few
to acknowledge each and every one of them
and tomorrow  comes so urgently
without pause relentlessly
I wish to write each and every one of them
and tell them what beauty they bring
to me and how I feel
but
I have to generalize I guess
and suspect if I write this
they who  are deserving
will know
they glow
a little more
than they do
now

When I write I enter a different realm
A very different place
A place that holds no boundaries
No room for airs nor grace

When I write my minds no longer
Trapped and full of woe
No limits no distractions
It's where I like to go

Such freedom of expression
Within my heart and mind
It's the one thing that I like to do
Then its happiness I find

My favourite time to do this
Is late into the night
Nothing can compare
To the pleasure
When I write.

By Arcassin Burnham


Just a little piece I wrote to remember you by,
Got nothing but love unconditionally in design,
When my notifications go off I know it's you,
Love that's just so smart and so simple it can't disguise,
Soul is dead and not even in a good way,
I'm I have love for you on both sides,
You turned my heart into a boil , my mind is deep fried,
But you not seeing me as that way is no surprise,
Miss Jean,

And I told myself time and time again, this girl has no desire,
I didn't know that we were friends , I must have dropped myself
In fire,
But I'll burn for you if you want me to,
But I'll burn for you if you want me to,
Does it come as a shock that i am not trying to pursue,
You,
Miss Jean.