The thunderclouds circle the Valley.
Soothing sounds from the darkest formations.
Send me off shore, One with the Galley.
No one shall miss thee, let there be little doubt.

The waves have risen and lowered; Littered with evil stench.
My guts hit the Stain, never again to be the same.
Just trying to forget, curse this haunted skin.
Being unable to forget, I'm a *******, living life in pretense.

Blue, blue, blue; the one color I see or touch.
Feeling helpless until eventually, i too turn blue.
Only then, do I count my blessings. No use for crutches.
Treat every human as if they were the last hearts blessed.

Land **!!! Finally, everything I have waited for.
These sands are clouds.  My date with the almighty is here.
The one who stenches the darkness with Ammonia.
Does his best to keep those haunted souls at bay.

Fire is also Blue,
Thus hell might be too.
Fight for me, lord of Orion.
It's Heaven, I should have praised before departure.

Lo! Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
Where the good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
There shrines and palaces and towers
(Time-eaten towers and tremble not!)
Resemble nothing that is ours.
Around, by lifting winds forgot,
Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.

No rays from the holy Heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently—
Gleams up the pinnacles far and free—
Up domes—up spires—up kingly halls—
Up fanes—up Babylon-like walls—
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of sculptured ivy and stone flowers—
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.

Resignedly beneath the sky
The melancholy waters lie.
So blend the turrets and shadows there
That all seem pendulous in air,
While from a proud tower in the town
Death looks gigantically down.

There open fanes and gaping graves
Yawn level with the luminous waves;
But not the riches there that lie
In each idol’s diamond eye—
Not the gaily-jewelled dead
Tempt the waters from their bed;
For no ripples curl, alas!
Along that wilderness of glass—
No swellings tell that winds may be
Upon some far-off happier sea—
No heavings hint that winds have been
On seas less hideously serene.

But lo, a stir is in the air!
The wave—there is a movement there!
As if the towers had ****** aside,
In slightly sinking, the dull tide—
As if their tops had feebly given
A void within the filmy Heaven.
The waves have now a redder glow—
The hours are breathing faint and low—
And when, amid no earthly moans,
Down, down that town shall settle hence,
Hell, rising from a thousand thrones,
Shall do it reverence.

The weight of a dragonfly does not break the stem of a flower.

Like the breath of an infant
Blooming new each day
Sweet toiletries
Fresh fragrance
Life unfolds before us

Natural bounties
Fruit bearing
Baring flesh
Sensory experiences
Gifts given, again and again

Never prosaic
Supreme variety
All for me, for you
We must remember
When taking, to give

Give me the words that tell you everything,
Let me start an echo against your heart;
Rhythmic words to bounce and return,
Caressing, Love, until you know.

"I am a poet"
That is what our ego tells us
What we tell others
What others desire for self
What we desire to hear
So they tell you that you are
Quid quo pro
We stroke one another
Manus manum lavat
When I die I hope "they'll" say
"A poet has left us"
But then as now
I will not know it

They're gone now,
our wild reveries
are now replaced by others.
No one will remember
the cannonballs
we exploded there,
blaring AC DC's givin' the dog a bone,
the licorice in our mouths,
or the grain spiked tangelos.

Surely her red bandana
was the attractant,
but it was the way
she wiggled her hips
that truly drew me in.
Her musk slayed me,
it was so ****** delightful
connecting her
beads of perspiration
with my quivering finger,
her breath quickened
between the dots
of her meaty thighs.
I will forget her
some night, but
I am content now,
just remembering
her innocent smile
and the way
she dialed me into
her broken heart.

I layed there
courageous
inside our wetness
and watched her
doe-eyes break in waves,
against the shores
of her high cheekbones,
it shattered my dreams.

And I am really sorry,
feel a sadness beyond belief
I couldn't make it better
for her or that
I never got the chance
to apologize
over the phone.

She's long gone...
I heard she's in Virginia.

Morning Poem**

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches—
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead—
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging—

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted—

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
lavishly,
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.