And your glance,
Was the aroma of an orange tree...
That used to turn my body green;
When I'm seeing you,
Spring grows in me...

He was the owner of a broken car
When he hit it with an iron bar
Then as a demonstration of extreme ire
He took a knife and slashed the tyre

Onlookers couldn’t believe what they were seeing
As he cried out “I hate this ****** car with all of my being”
Then in a final act of retribution
Devoid of any final successful solution

He built a pyre and set that ******* car on fire.

there is something good
and some light
in this desire
enraging my cells
with divination chanting
sculpting my shape
in violent curves
I don't recongnize the hues
of mornings
because of frenzy:
the new definition of gravity
along the lines
mesmerizing visions of
softness and caring

love is a whirlwind
in any language
a clear water
so you can see
how translucent
nakedness can be

hers is
the bending of space
to smaller and smaller
atoms of delight,
fusion, diffusion, infusion

it holds you tight
from the very centre
(heart&lungs)
when it breaks you
and then these traces
the swarming of photons
in the fabric of skin
sweet radiance,
energetic warmness
an arch, a cohort of waves
crushing everything
like cherries' sense
reality sense
roads' sense

a scarring refusing
to scream/bleed
defiance of stillness
music of laughter
sun raising in your hands

there is something beautiful
for the poetess in me
it just describes herself well
for the never-day
it transmutes
anything:
beauty into horror
horror into despair
despair into words
even thought into
singing birds

rhapsodic pastoralism
as beguilingly bucolic as tempera gardens,
where nature’s wild beauty
is domesticated and made
into a safe space for dream and play,
reverie and revelry.

with the bright dawn
chatter of birdsong
it seems to reach your ear across distance,
like a girl singing happily to herself
while walking down the road
on the other side of your garden wall.

When the day is finally through,
And there is little else to do,
I shall watch the sun go down,
And colours lighting up the town.

Red, green, yellow, white and blue,
Neon and oil and candles too,
On streets, in parks and houses all,
When night makes its gentle call.

Then I will off to please my mind,
In a quiet place that I can find,
With drink in hand to sit me down,
And sip the colours of the town.

Good morning, Dear Wife,
The only love of my life.
The sun's not yet up,
I'll go brew us a cup;
So, stay snug in our bed,
And I'll bring it up
With a bite that's enough,
Till you're ready to rise
With those gorgeous green eyes,
And join me this day,
And all days I do pray,
Till we rise up no more.