More than light,
In a land of woven echoes,
       Memory cascades between
A diaphanous glow and kisses
    The lips of eternal waters.

Lyrical waterways,
Prepare for a backhanded slap,
Then a second blow;
I don't care about your personal
Problems, as long as it's written
Poetical, you and your weeping
Streams with a deluge of emotional
Lamented problems are tolerable
As long as it's written with some class.
        Now give me your poems,
Though only few draw water,
I do not claim to be the best,
Merely a lover of it,
I will heart you, you will see
Lightning and like the child of a nymph
Be happy to see the fetching comments
I leave to you.
     I will squeeze sweetness from you,
All it takes is a click, light footed words
I read beforehand when you copied
Off a poet you thought no one had
Read before( I study a lot more than you know)
Ever the herdsmen
I preach a doctrine of poetic originality,
And lately I see few worthy,
Myself included,
Now pucker your words like lips
And lavish this poem with a heart,
Or don't, I am real,
Or fake, and I only love poetry.

I follow the broken jasmine
In the path I know will lead me astray,
Did this huge distance away
From myself deceive my heart?

    I know that my lifeless eyes
    Have followed you here
    Among the Fallen inhabitants;
    I joined you in the abyss.

A wave of punishment daily
Gnaws at this strange ignorance,
My retreat into a dark innocence
Leaves me in a retreat inward.

    You are the dead flower in an
    Arched mystery, I know the path
    I have taken to you,
    Death has shown me how
    To walk its valleys:

Illusion or love,
Held captive by my mortgaged soul.

Poetry should not sound like a fortune cookie.

The world does not know your inner
Thought canals,
With the weight of your self on your
Lips, sometimes you
Cannot speak,
Then in a few words everything fits
And the empty feeling goes away.

      You are not a reflection of you,
You are here writing reflected
   In an irresistible mirror,
Stilled as if looking at a statue,
      Wisdom in awkwardness.

Yes you astute when you
Are alone under a lamp
     Writing yourself,
You know the statue better
     When you step away from the warmth
Of your own judgments.

       In your stew of words
There is wisdom's discomfort,
      Your eyes dazzled
As you discover your own
Secrets, as if you are a
Lonesome gypsy,
        Make yourself between the words,
Find the time to read them,
       Grow wise to yourself.

Like a moonbeam
Brighter than the Daystar,
I am blinded by
Woman in a soft
Midnight garden;

When the day kisses
The night,
The light is weeping.

I walk alone.

The soul with no
Absolution
Is an infinite impossible.
My throat caught
In a tearful choke,

The missing song
Under the sun
Is the Moon's tender
Presences.

Love escapes
Into a masked misunderstanding,
Another misunderstanding
Hides the Father in me
Under this misguided wing

I quiver under a fools blade,

I love like a child
Lost in a forgotten story,

Missing.

But the expectations
Wreak havoc on the reality,
All i found i had was myself
And my arms pushing
Away in all directions.
I walked
Along the river brook
Amongst golden whispered waves
And they spoke memory.
Talk to me mystery,
For the tongues of men
I cannot comprehend.

In the stone city of life
Where images circle blasphemous
Putrefied ideolized deities,
   Carved out of morals from
Their former sins, washed in the Rage
Of time, the stairway of years
Has fallen victim to forgetful dogs
In love with a doctrine read blindly
To justify eating one's own *****.
      Within their water we drink
With the stained images in the waters,
     Combating in a paradise of caged
Jubilation, we become a circus act
Of empty faiths,
    Idols exploding with pastors
Armed with ideas,
Sharpened tongues from a library
     Written by the Sun,
Twisted by the thugs with Holy Spirits
That daunt the saint,
Plotting Edens in their own image,
    We beat each other for the same God,
We ask a name,
Bible,
       Quran,
               I see the body of Moses in both,
Where is the other God?
   The same clouds we look at contain
  The same sins we follow from our
Misreading Shepard's,
       This is high voltage rhetoric,
The industry of Heaven,
     The money of hell,
Cain is well,
Abel unable,
The followers of blind leading seeds
To the dirt,
Grow smeared in to the faith,
Roots of dust,
The fallen have come,
On the knees of blood,
We crown the snakes.

The fawn walks at birth
Finding balance quickly.
If you study the baby deer
You will see that it can sprint
Like an Olympian.

And you asked me:
Why didn't I walk quickly
Or run like an Olympian?

Oh baby, you did.
But not in a in an event,
Rather in my hope for you
Chasing clear dreams
In magic hours,
Your spirit soaring as you
Find true love,
And it is my heart
That was racing.....racing....

Third eye blinded,
And the pictures you
Sent wouldn't download
When I couldn't make
In time and the spaces
Make for long distance relationship,
I can hear another voice,
Retaliation of the missing,
Work into an alcoholic
And rage the machinist
By needing more and more.

It wasn't enough that I'm
Impaled onto supports,
The kid should be mine,
Just can't be there
So I'm replaced by a loser
Who refuses to make money,
But can make me when I'm not around,
Away to support you,
Supporting me,
I in me
Without you
And working for the nothing
I've become.

Im afraid of the words
My father might say
As my mother watches from
An eternal kiss,
And school is not a notion ,
It ia the reality of three lil girls
While I hustle for the groceries.
      I become a shadow,
      Working between the light,
      I want to lose myself
      In mama's tortillas,
      Chorizo and eggs with
      All the love I had the time
      To feel.

I am 5 am. Standing at Labor
Force and hear the words
Curse me, their whispers
Of  My failures only push me,
I grow stronger,
My children grow hungry,
There goes the corner store,
And my gun feeds my children,..
The metaphor does not exist
Here, this the real,
A westside everyday,
Poverty in action,
Rich in the sorrows dance,
Life spreads its wings,
I am left in the shadow.
I hate the metaphor,
Because you will never truly
See the truth of my words.

Be wide awake
In your dreams,
    Speak softly
    When yelled at,
Take the time to take some
Time,
     Dont worry til your sick,
Be sick of being worried,
    Try to turn the other check
When it's a slap on the ****,
    Sing in the shower
When everyone is home,
     Leave the flowers alone-
   Pick on your nose instead,
Bewise beyond your years
  Before your years are beyond you,
    Read a poem instead of writing one,
        Become a poet by living one.

Hey there,
Its been such a long time,
My arm is still in your murky water,
And I'm still here waiting for you.
But it's time to let you go,
I see you breathing under water,
And I can't wait for you anymore.
You brush away the hands that reach
Deep into your pain,
And though they know,
You just can't let it go,
So I can't watch you become a fish,
Because my life has to be lived,
I'll miss you and remember you
When you breathed air,
So now I'll let you swim away.

.....Let your soul shed it's poetry.

I can still remember checking
To see if it really rained purple:
      And I still sang the sadness
Of my heart with a droplet upon my face,
      As if a tear from Heaven.
As a kid he reminded me to surrender
    Not to the popular choice,
But the hard one of just being yourself.
       I don't know much about his life,
But the influence he had in moments
In mine make for a mid spring song
     Breaching the memory of
A memory and a melody forms....
     And yet so many years had I not
Hear him,
    So much time that passed,
My thoughts swayed away to life,
     Prince was just a memory's song,
Yet upon hearing of his passing
My last seemed to pass with him,
      His songs,
The influence,
    Just being himself,
A symbol of melodic substance.
     I will remember him well,
And I hope he is dancing
Somewhere in heavens Purple Rain.

I was in the journey,
The road never taken
Dissolving regrets,
Finding myself in
The sorrow and knowing
A path less known
Through the glory of suffering.....

In the desolation
Hope stayed in a box,
In the different he became
The crescent tender
In a straight hell:
And then the nocturnal
Came and took him to
The poem of future prisons
And the Dedpoet became
A violent misconception.

Sleep nocturne:
The poet lay the man down,
And the poet will never know peace,
Because peace was disturbed.
And Dedpoet became a silence
In the desolation,
Wandering, wanted.....
On the run
And his poems numbered.

In the birth of the day
Which begins when my eyes
See only you and the sun
Is sudden as the world,

I clothe you with my eyes
And undress my soul to the
Surface of the suns plane
In a dance of the eclipse,

Further into the spectrum
Of the touches that paint
The bodies and the arched
Back of your rainbow illuminates

I am naked around you,
The light of your passion
Takes me to the birth of the sun
As my death is but a rebirth....

Luminous creature,
Inventor of my eyes
Perceiving entwined,
Blinded by your presence.

A hole grew inside my heart.
I could not fill it.
It's abysmal darkness
Ate away the light,
Took the joy from
Moments.
Your voice fills the hole,
A sun burst inside,
And your company
Is a rain of smiles on the
Empty fire.
           You leave,
The day sets within me,
There within my heart
The hole begins again;
       Your smile is
   The moonlight in the dark.

I awoke in faded aspirations
Fulfilling the solicitations
Of her body,
Crime and passion
Without order and no constraints
On what time it actually is:

And look at at you,
Your hungover yet its with
Slow motion in film,
A kodak momentum
And you end up taking my smokes,
Last time it was the beer,
Im smiling this time,
And I know my tequila morning
Still has a scent of lime,
And I find hope in your half
Finished smoke,
I light the cherry
And i taste your lips,
With you it just gets worse
And im grateful for it,
You have a grace
That refills my drink
Of accepted frustrations, the good stress,
Because we know what we see
Together, what faith to
Destructive grace,
The real struggle is to miss you
Like my bed does,
And yes I want my mistakes to mean something even if i never learn,
Il be with you,
And with the bad
You take the good,
And the bad you didn't
Know they had,
Loyalty and blind
Raptured moments,
Woman....
              
woman......

**** I feel alive

Quietly whispered,
The words spoken without envy;

The divine thirst is for you,
In a myriad of liquids yours
Is the only quenching,
There is nothing as good to the soul
As kissing the nape of your neck
When I come home,
I hold your hands beside you
And gather them in a harvesting,
The touch dominant of my existence.

I will be thinking:
This pleasure is all mine,
A promise holy like time,
You are my Prophesy
Spoken with every minute.

Chaos in a wind,
A whimper in a death,
A poet stands in a crowd
And lulls the words to grasp
The emtptiness:

Let sleep the order,
Chaos in a passion's touch,
Feel the fiber of existence
And know that one is nothing
And everything to himself.

Chaos like the scream in agony
And torture of the dance
Under the forgotten night
When under the portico
You held back from destiny's
Melody and order killed
The unborn.

Quiet the noise of bitter
Memory, take in hand that
Chaos in a world of numbers
And lose count the minutes
That always seem fleeting,

And a poet overstressed,
Underwhelming as poetry
Became a job,
When time is put into words,
Take the first draft and run,
Let go The editor.

Take it,
Its still there,
And the order is a chaos too.

I am in a room filled with language,
       My life is in another room
Identical
    Depopulated by the world,
The verbiage overflowing,
    One day it is love,
The next, a draft of storms.
     Sorrows,
The million year old emotions.
    Poems come and go
As I decay in the syllables,
   Enormous verses,
The horizon breaks down,
    Lights lightened,
The sky gathers at my window,
     I get more and more secluded,
And the words petrify in my eyes....
    
    The spectre of the unwritten.

Softly the soul journeys
When it's night has come,
And that which is called death
Is but a door to new wombs:

At dawn the flesh returned
To where the river began,
In the shadow of wings
She passed away from love.
       There is a path laid before
       The soul when we all go,
       She kissed the Earth
       In all its moment's beauty.
And she rises through the fiery
Air, her soul a luminous
Entity follows to the skies
A wayward journey through
The solar song.
      And the song is a torrent,
     Like triumphant moments
      Of the lover's kiss,
     She takes this with her
      And dances in the pale
     Of the moonlight.
She stops to see the White Sun,
That which created her home,
That which gave meaning
To Spring's new grace and
The Solstice where she fell
In love.
     Now at the precious edge,
     Her being tied to the stars,
     She Rides the light and kisses
     This place goodbye,
     She takes with her all the joy,
     Every day of sorrow,
     All the kisses her Father gave,
     She feels everyone on her face,
     The soul takes these things....
It's not over,
A blue flame flutters in the distance,
From star to star,
Flesh to flesh,
From the power of the immortal soul,
She is reborn in a new place,

The Blue Sun rises,
From the soul a child is born
Like a light that shines the Heavens.

The bodies of my body
Are words,
Instantaneous presence
In a vast meadow of echoes,
Each a syllable dancing and forming
The unspoken:

Unspoken hours
Multiplied by mirrors in the mind
Reflecting changes,
The unspoken breeds silence,
The tongue is an element
Of perceptions,
Once spoken it is realised.
I live within the whispers
Populating the spoken vibrations
Carried by air
Bathing in the light.

In all the alphabetical skies
Drinking the nouns of clouds
I spoke my mortality,
Death is the loneliest word;
But not the first,
I found peace when a landscape
Of prayers in the form of poetry
Spoke all things
And I became a word in limbo,
There in my momentary existence
I saw that God
Is the First Word,
Yet God never spoke,
But always listens......

Today I have no hearts,
I feel the anxiety of my poem.

I haven't seen a single lighting
In such a dark procession of grey,
Forgive my poetry for how little my words are.

On this morning everyone, everyone goes
By passing my words of poetics.

And I don't know what else to write,
All that is left is the sigh of this piece.

I've connected to the world wide web,
I scream among the faces, I am alone!
If you want poetry, my words are here!

Because of all the days of this life,
I slam so many doors on my own face
And a loneliness seizes my soul.

Today no one has left a heart:
Today I have died a little inside.

I am living at the center
         Of a fresh wound,
My steps resound
      In my head,
Only the pain is real......

      ****** vertical regrets
That weigh on me like shadows,
           The air is a manifestation of panic,
The sun is immobile,
     Everything I say vanishes;
All that I am is in these words,
      Perpetual lungs
Breathing the abyss,
    It's too much,
All the nothingness.

There are no words
Yet a poem is birthing itself
Out of the kiss of your lips
That burned
The moon's faded light,

Yes my pen is on fire,

It burns after the touch
Of the prophets words
And the fruitions of our bodies;
We bring about the end times
As we long for the next encounter.

Yes, tonight the poem is born,

Born in the eye of the storm
A thunderous peace that
Falls as I seed you eternal
Flame and cool the desires
That dissolves the liquid drops,
Rain down on me!!

Yes, tonight my pen is on fire,

And it burns,
The hole in my existence
When I am not naked
Next to you and the day
Is born into us
As first light ignites your silhouette into the scape of
The bedroom, and the fire begins
Again, again,

My pen is on fire,
Too hot to hold,
So I drop it here at the
End of this poem
And burn alive in the
Passionate touch
Of our bodies engulfed,
We burn the liquid flames!

It's hot and hell is here,
The labyrinth of the city sets
The stage for stray kids getting lost,
Impoverished and too young to ***.
The street lights shed a new dark
When the boy needs shoes
To compete in friendship status,
A gun to another kid
With shiny news who just learned
The advantage of fear,
How can he afford a gun?
No phone for the hungry
Unless hungered for enough
To steal a call and surround
The angst of acceptance for social
Well-being,
When lost crows run to shadows,
A flightlessness casts itself
On the summertime kid
Awaiting his own arrival.

I felt the blade cutting
Tje mirrors eye,
She was cold like a fevers
Body,
Brazen when she held the
Life of me,
Lettimg go at the precipice
And falling into the extreme
Suddeness of who she
Became,
A razor cutting life from me,
Piecing me back together.

Such an immortal wound
To the momentary quiver.

Ney, I am the break
That nets a setting sun.
Beak of swalllows
Into turpentine waters,
Behind  the glare of
The watching fern,
A whisper in the winding
Shade turning in itself....

In the remains of the day
Watching the meeting
And the stare of eyes
Stealing the fleece of gold
From unborn skies.

Reflections
          Reflecting:
The taste of April's melancholic grace
     On your lips,
Your touch like a drop
    Into the well of sorrows;
I reflect your veil of dark brooding.

     A hint of music
On the path of your footsteps,
      You dance to a tune
Tangled in the helix of the orchestral
     Candors,
I reflect your naked liberation.

The scent of ocean in your hair,
       The hint of the sea foam
As your presence is like
A crashing wave,
The weight of your living waters;
    I reflect your essense.

Along the graze of seasonality,
      I see a Winter fade
After the October,
     The sickles of my fingers
Harvesting your body;
                       I reflect your ***.

From the depths of mirrors,
     Like the sun kissing the ocean
Sending ripples along
   Her blue shield
Sending cosmic shivers;
     I yield to your mirror.

Extraction,
Time in its parcels
Permissions passing,
     Against the atomic
     There is no saviour...
Willing And Deadly
Because there was no
Choice in the beginning.
    Born of grains
Lasting blinks that rarely
Resonated with soils eroded
And land scapes are the life
Watching droplets of flesh
Flash like embers
      Nothing is sudden
And forever is just a life
   Regretting being in the
Moments

It was in the old civilizations
From the arches which angels
Appeared and appeased the land
With rich oxygen and fully grown
Greenery, until a swarm of God's
Favorites released from the soil
Breathed breakable winds unto
The world, released from the wild
Of God's heart:

Up the ladder of the earth
The angels climbed,
The humans braided with ******
Threads and spreading like
floods at the shores of horizons,
Filled with a luminous hole
And confusing noises running
Like a forest fire.

Through the drunken madness
To fill the void meeting from
Broken songs they built cities
Of stone like their hearts,
Fathers of spinning webs,
Mothers of the attacker.
And in the days they wiped
Away the tears in the stellar
Madness wishing on dark stars,
They circled the earth,
Like madmen they lamented
Vanished wounds,
The man animals,
Anomoly of the Most High,
Throbbing hopes within,
They wander like lonely storms.

Scorched earth
And the beams are in my eyes,
The light pulling it's warmth
Through my window
Like a coffin rectangle
And the chirping knocks
The vibes from an otherwise
Melancholy that makes
Me want to avenge my
Mother's death,

The early birds
Eaten by worms in the soiled
Veil of the repeat,
Slowly getting the point
Of no return and the ladies
Power walking to hell,
I pull the shades on the day
For a solitary confinement
And that's OK with me,
Cuz tomorrow,
Today,
Everyday the sun,
Lights blindingly.

I still feel the air between my soul
And the flesh escapes the drowning,

I am taken by the pain
Because the memory is all i have,

time becomes still
And I am im between spaces
In my mind
That create a universe,

In the inescapable forest of eyes
All that stare at me
I am collapsed like a star
Until the gravity caves

Whisper hope
And fare well to the reality,
All that a wish could be
Begins at the lips and the word
Is the only thing that makes it real.

Defunct lowriding
While a day is cruised without ship,
Captainless like syringe
Layered concrete boats,
Bliss of the broken dreamer
While content pan handled,

Alas the talons sink deep into
The core of lonely fathoms,
The taco house with corn tortillas
Aplenty thrown locked trashcan
To alter the hungry vain,
The barrio abuzz with no
Glory but the flirt of hope,

Too many to count hopeless
Whilst the few made good,
Labeled traitor for success,
Dream smaller past the thrift store
On sale blue tag Tuesday's
And neary a vagrant to shop
For what once was theirs.

We used to soar
And the wind up under
The depressed wings
Like a shattered dream caused you to
Float away to who ever made them,
A mysterious beginning
To every end of unknown
Spectrum, ***** rainbows,
And I see that i don't,
Blind the angel behind shadows,
What's come together to
Fly is just another flutter
Into the lifted dust
Settling on life's breath
Beneath a woven heart stitched
With the emotionally
Unstable needle through
My skin,
If not for the winds beneath
Us swaying  too **** much,
It'd be hard to see the grounded
Reality that we were
Off course and it was already over,
The halo is the
Last kiss under the quarter moon.

I swim in your glances,
The sea of awkward depths.
I see you look away,

A moment flutters and forbidden
Is just the beginning.
Fall into the dusk hours
As the darkness falls
And the shadows form
Over your body,
the whiteness of your skin
Becomes a pale kiss to the
The moonlit desire,
You flash a smile.

I feel a lifetime.

In the dark riding the light
Of your skin,
I become the shadow in the
Crevise and curves of your
Body,
My body over your body,
My body into your body.

Kiss the night,
Die into the desires,
Breathing your flesh,
Exhaling pleasure.

I see a fool of man in the mirror.
I'm writing about myself in reflection
To my reflection.

I sit down and burp, I say excuse me,
And there is no one around.

I shave and feel my face,
I point at the man in the mirror
And say" You da man!"

I write a philosophical poem about silence,
Suddenly I am in a league with Socrates.

I look for my keys and call myself stupid for
Losing them. I give myself a break.

I step on a nail at work and watch the blood trickle
Out of my foot. There goes a pair of socks!

I give a dollar to a homeless man.
I feel as though I may be a philanthropist.

I get on the bus and eat my lunch,
I then ponder the physics of the universe.

I'm here writing my thoughts about my thoughts.
Does this make me a thinker? I think.....

I didnt realise that
I wasnt cool enough
To carry myself with eyes
Wide open,
Like some enigmatic beauty
With no interior design,
Someone gazes at clouds making
Shapes,
People look at the man
With a pen and tiny pad,

Their thougts like dandruff
On the black polo
You bought to impress
Her father,
Self aware and glare at the living,
Painting the swindled
Version of the real things,
Wiping away the tears
Of this mornings' spilled coffee,
The 29 year old beggar looks pridedul
Enough to know you burn
Inside and out comes the
Weasal,

I couldnt truly see that I wrote
In the most sensible way,
A poet defines a classic sight
Timeless, wondering
When the pièce will be done
So he can write about beggar.

A poet is not slave to the mind,
And the mind is not a terrible
Thing, only when the door closes
And last light curls the spectrum,
The poet lays the earth in symphonie, afraid that he cannot hear the music,
Desparate and hungry
For the life he writes.

On this afternoon
       The poplars walked around,
I spoke your name;
       The wind took it away.

And the sun glazed windows
     Hold the echo of your reflection,
Sudden grey skies over
       The kingdom of your ruins.

The forms haunt, black dense memory,
          And I named this day
Perfect Sorrow Without You.

Between coming and going
Nothing stays,
A pencil stabs through paper,
There is no desk.

Thr light scatters,
Elongated, alienated,
Staring at the words.

I find myself in the middle
Of this verse,
Motionless;
Where ever I am
                             is home,
There is no place...
      I become
The unwritten.

So I f up so I fell in love, and to the man who hasn't lived in the embryonic state, the mother's womb and the ***** of chance life, take heed the warning this s** hurts. But I make do because I live and I am grateful for the pain, every tear that sheds the glory of a ******* who fell in love with another man's woman. And oh I didn't know, I know that I still don't know that I will never know that love can be a pain in the ***, but I'm still here every breath no matter how boring or wimpy or even the label here comes the sad guy Maybe, I still took the chance and got my *** kicked by her husband, but I'll never forget the time we had when I stared at her everyday across from where she served me my plate in the mornings at my favorite Taco House, I'll say it again I'm a ******* sue me I fell in love

Nothing can stay,
Not me or you at the moment's
Last glance.

I wish to stay
To watch the lake's dancing waves
   Foaming at the shores
With a plethora of bubbling
Like a warm cup of cocoa
    Meeting my cool lips.

Grass as vast as belief
With a sparrows nest just above
In an oak which shivers in a cool
Wind dressing the world with sounds.

    The harvesting is a lifetime
Embedded with a faint glow
Which is a man at the end wishing
On the dying light,
Nothing can stay.

Your hand holds between its fingers
The nocturnal glow of a crescent moon,
The touch that holds,
The kiss that stays;

The kiss is a phosphorescent angel
By a sleepwalking lover,
Hold: close as souls can be,
Spiritual dawn of lovers;

The kiss dresses mountains with white veils
And adorns the trees with gentle air,
Holding through seasons,
Naked, at the precipice infinite;

We are born through one another,
Holding breath under prophetic stars,
Held by a kiss,
Dissolving into the lips.

Kiss, hold, our love inventing love.

Yesterday in San Antonio
A drunk guy was found dead,
His wings drunkenly glorious
With a beard fully grown over his
White angelic gown.

   He was wise, a drunken sage
With wisdom of the world he watched,
    He knew the world was in one
Big **** hurry to nowhere,
    He told me so when I gave him
A cold one.

    The words that he spoke to me
Are those that will haunt me:
  " Speed produces slowness"

Footnote:
I'll drink one to that,
It was a Tuesday and raining,
A wise drunk, watcher of the world.

Image power
By that gentle confidence,
And a little boy knows his dad.

Stolen thievery,
Pride in the lost is vein
That whixh buries the heart
In echoes.

Fallen hereditary
Keeping the memory
And all is a silence of natures;
Wind and water amd stone.

A waters dive
Oceans ago when waters
Fled the open heart
And father was the only son:

Take my hand old man,
Though your at the edge,
Your blood will flow to the
Future and your soul is
Always reborn.

Teach, learned man,
Pour out your swim in life
In the waters of the moment,
Stroke, strokes, and still
And always, father.

I can't take it,
So I wrap it up
As a gift of words,
And poetry becomes
An emotion,
And I can be,
And I can live,
Here right now,
Poetry,
Life in words.

Glass eyes,
    Fractures in the spheres.
Broken bliss inside you
I
     We.

You move
You blink the night

Sun born
Sun dies
My light in youra

Darker than lumens
Touches me
Exploding the kiss....

Oness in the bliss
Nocturnes in the mist,
dew drops of intertwined
       Blooddrops,
****** the softest touch
Rush of the broken
     Feeding hunger
Flesh of lights

I sun drop
You compress
Luminosity
Laser focus.

Desolation together
A hymn in the sunrise

And I wrote the Heavens,
And wrote havens for the Heavenly
Til all the bright buds wilted,
Milk no longer flowed,
And now my muse left me for
Some dude in Canada.

     Oh siren mourning over the mist,
    That I was a bird of prey
     And was taken by your claw!
    How silly of me to sing the Nightingale's
     Transformation in the verses
    I lost myself to you,
     And in comes a chance of change
    You roll over to the next guy
     With a Daily!

Oh Muse,
The masterful strokes gone,
This arrogant upstart would write
You the last sonnet of air
That you might breathe your echoes
Upon my words,
Bequeath me the inspired harmonic
Yielding the poetical mastery to my paper!

   Oh muse,
   You old hag!
   I'm left with crooning
   Your ungiven name!