I often feel alone
even though I 'm reminded
that I have family
that loves me

but sometimes

Family is just a mirror that
chooses to reflect every bad decision
you've ever made in your life
while hiding behind the glass

Sometimes, conversations are held
on one way streets, where sin only comes
in black and white, and the ones that love you
hold gavels between clenched fists

Sometimes, love looks like scorn
and hugs feel a lot like straight jackets that
leave bruises in the shape of hearts
and I-told-you-sos

So I'm alone, and a sinner
*tell me something I didn't already know.

It is in the best interest
of the systems that be
that people don't think.

Inspector Fox felt emotionally blackmailed
his eyes blurred the first time in his life
the man cried pitifully to have the suspicion dispelled
there was motive for him to have killed his wife.

I picked her up almost from the street
you can call it love at first sight
whose fragrance in heart I always carried
showed me the way her love’s light.

If you ask if she was always faithful to me
she was and not a moment she left my side
laid herself bare and so happy were we
years passed like an endless joy ride.

Never ever, never once, I have to say
she set her eyes on any other man
happy as she was in my love all the way
as I was in my loveliest woman.

She loved not me but only my money
so would the tongues roll in mischief
how they envied that I was so lucky
our devotion to each other was beyond belief.

Behind me she slept with other men
I had to bear with many such gossip
two love doves we were crazily insane
our love was true and fathomless deep.

It hurt me Mr. Fox and I couldn’t take it anymore
those ******* spreading canards about her
so I started to love her more than before
and now must have killed her some jilted lover.

The inspector noted each word in his book
thanked him and got up to go
to give the note a good look
at home in his table lamp’s glow.

He read it once and then again and again
each line in isolation and with the rest
till he pieced together only the first lines
arrived at the confession cleverly crafted!

that trendy ******(e) addiction
becomes you- and your fiction

goes well with the pale
-skinned thin western booted
blue-eyed shooter
riding sidesaddle
on your scooter

does she kiss like me
and bring you coffee?

i could lay you both down
in the in-betweens
and make heaven-

til hell is heavy as a monday
track day in albuquerque
while she sells your jewelry
in sante fe where it's trendy

-i'll be waiting
on the blue mesa.

r ~  9/19/14

He created a night for him
with the dark metaphors
his poetry tossed on to the air;
from its ember buried under ashes
oozed little by little,
two drops of scared light.

Alone, in the cocoon of the memory
of her words, he distilled and drained
the magic potion of poetic expression.

In it was ingested, the intensity
of sudden lightening
that burns down everything
in to ashes

like the tides that occur high and low
what if ,at will, single source secretes
both poison and nectar?

with your eyes mutely speaking of desire
you are deft in signalling both---
the ascent of love, that creates in me
the instant capillary rise of passion
and
love's descend, as if the monsoon has dissipated
and just a sprinkling announcing rejection!

who are you, reveal your true face
poetic trance at the moment of my inspiration
or dark poetry, gushing out on it's own
from a secret spring, deeply hidden?