Is this what passion feels like -
Lingering in the nook,
Created between damp lips met in soft quiverings?

Idling saucily in the bowl that,
Balances in my shoulder -
Dripping down my chest, to my breast
And resting...

Does passion taste sweet,
With a hint of anger,
That sounds like,
If one's lips won't suffice,
The teeth will?

Teasing with fury,
As if tempting the jury,
Peeking down at one,
From above.

---

Or, is passion the heat,
That arises between,
Two lovers, merely,
Sharing a kiss?

I lost my thought somewhere,
Over there,
Behind my leftover thinkings on time.

To the right of whenever,
I last forgot to remember,
What is was with I wanted to rhyme.

I try to remind myself,
Quite often,
To post stickies to help me recall.

But then the thought to look,
Gets lost in some nook,
And, the whole deal slows down to a crawl.

We're all human here, right?

Why, then, is my side, most human,
Something bidden I hide?

---

Mockings chant their mocking things,
Swinging from the hinges of reality.
While, sneers and jeers born from,
Overgrown fears,
Leave small ****** in my ripe heart -

Unceasingly.

At the door, my mind assured me, go,
And my feet, those dumb things, did listen.
Went right into havoc,
Wreaked solely by tragic,
Souls, so pathetic, I can't even stand it.

Who's ripping up my soul so darkly,
Save, me and the audience I've made?
Surely, the swift-sounding people,
With valiant battles to battle -
Are too busy to waste time at the gallows.

You dug the hole,
And jumped right on in,
I merely picked up the shovel,
And finished it.

Though, now, my heart aches,
So red and opaque,
Curse you,
For doing you in.

07.2011

Sometimes, I cradle Sir Moon in my arms,
And half-whisper him to sleep.

I haven't seen that man in his own,
For too long.
So, when he's blue,
We nap together.

Sometimes, the moon melts,
Into puddles on lakes,
And ripples out into forever.
Hadn't smelled a ripple,
Until that very first night.

Smells like ink would - I think
Were the ink frozen.

But, every so often,
The moon is fine,
Full, after its harvest of,
The month's reverb.
And, on that night,
Is when I dance in full-flight,

Crazy, in the moon's elixir.

---

The night makes us mad.
The moon makes us loony.

Perhaps, that explains a lot.

You feed me jewels of golden grapes,
With your lips’ sweet verbal confections.
You warm my heart with your godlike smile,
A source of our connection.
Peer into these orbs of glass,
And gaze into my soul.
Know that you, without a doubt,
Are the one I long to hold.
You douse my heart in smiling things,
You paint glowing across my face,
And, in between your enchanted fingers,
My own ones find their place.

I’ve never fallen quite so fast,
Or cared so much so soon,
But your whispered words and slight, sweet touch,
Spiral me to the moon.

I can hardly say for sure it’s love,
For, I’ve never found love so true,
But if you ever chance to fall,
I’m falling in behind you.

*07.2009

Bitten by a bitter asp,
Scorched by a flame,
Conned by a sneaky fox,
And charmed by his game.

So, excuse me, if I’m wary,
Of your silky, smooth orations,
Or bewildered and maybe slightly scared,
Of these somewhat odd sensations.
My soul is bidding that I run,
From your words, so much like his,
But, my heart commands my feet to stay,
Afraid of what I’ll miss.

Afraid, also, that your tender touch,
Is tender in only practice.
Frightened that your wooing game,
Will end shy of the kiss.

Yet,

What if your lips are sweetened with,
Sugar in its purest state.
And, your eyes whisper to me, not lies,
But secrets of our hidden fate.
I want my heart to beat with yours,
And to allay these silly fears.
But, how can I know that you won’t go,
And leave me fighting tears?

I trust you with my kisses,
With my rain of sweet affection.
I give to you my drowsy dreams,
For a feverish night’s connection.

Though my heart wells up with age-old songs,
At the whisper of your name,
And belts them out on every corner,
It’s within my own breast, all the same.

My fingers idle at the thought,
Of unlocking my heart once more,
Leery of the childish stitching,
From heartbreaks done before.

Cross your heart, and say you’ll stay,
To love me through the night,
To narrate my dreams, and welcome the beams,
That pour in from waking light.

To give my heart is to give my love,
To the one I most adore.
And, when it’s true, I swear to you,
My heart and soul is yours.

My dreams are dreams of black and white.

I dream of the late Cool Hand Luke,
And Big Daddy in the rain.
I dream of Hepburn, where it's hot,
Of Skelton upon his stage.

I dream of Jeannie,
Of Lucy's man,
Of Hitchcock's crazed suspense,

And of my freckled friend, named Opie,
Relaxing with Papa Griffith.

Jethro swings from chandeliers,
As daddy fends off fiends.
Granny ***** that little hand,
Signaling the end.