the waning sunlight
strikes a ray of brilliance
once more
blanketing the air
in thick strokes
of burnt oranges
and yellows so rich
they speak of gold

the sky dances and dazzles
and sparkling blues
underlay the patchwork
of oncoming dusk
caught in a twilight,
in an inexplicable in-between
of settling day
and waking night

a sliver of transformation
a destined evolution of time
I race and embrace
I ache for it to stay
yet in vain I hail
in its temperance
it shall remake

sunshine,
rain crisply tattering
on the gazebo wooden beams
where the moss grows tall
the daisies wither naught
and duo respirations
beating like a thunderous soar
of golden warmth
as two breathing souls
consume the tattering rain
and faint bleak sunshine
under a wooden beam
and moss-grown roof
waiting patiently for the
other to finally
speak

to feel the pressure
building in your ears
like that thud contemplating
between two chords of hollow
resounding wood,
a twisting root manifesting
wiring squeezing skittering
across the surface we all fall~
there is naught in retrospect  
upon reflected conflicts and
toppling restrictions
hearts in chains like tail fins,
caught in a net cast deep into
frothy salty seas
hoping to trap what is not ours,
thinking what it was
thinking to grasp
gouging for a grip
into this vulnerable scare
slippery slip

A fraction thrown into abyss
A sliver of chosen tragedy
Cast those creaking lights
Like crisp piercing tails
Trailing the wounds
placed over our hearts
run smooth,  touch hesitantly
fingers sliding over the scar tissues
tombston buried forever
in our figments of contorted minds
Oxygen flushing into
Brittled cavities of our lungs
stung rotten with words which stung
take a damp sponge
Spewing warm water
learn to dab our own heads
to soothe the fever
of humanity's love
and endeavor

For once, try to live a little
They say, their sly slithering faces
Their rejection to an another intuition
Their fists pounding in faces

Try to live a little
I drink coffee at morning break
I drink tea at settling dusk
Yet I sit in glassed encased circle

I see everything in sight
Saturated with meaning and rich despite
Yet never can I touch the things wanted the most
Sitting in the middle of a relapsing circle

The glass doesn’t chip
My fingerprints fog the surface
I pound my fists
Yet leave an ocean of smudges

Blinded to the world
There is nothing I can do
Sometimes I feel like
My mind has diluted to mush

A bright wake of snow
Glimmering where
The grey meets sky
Forging and drifting,
Mounds and side sweeps
Banking against the tall
Pillars of trees
Pine and brisk peppermint
Trickling with the frigid chill
Tinkling wherein a sigh ascends slow
And crunch crunch
More silent noise to follow
Of hot, swirling breath
And Rosemary cherry cheeks
Curly blond hair and a pair of glasses
Glinting like the moon basked in glory
Her hands clutched
Nimble fingers wrapped around something
And with every step she took
Golden light radiated from the coals
Sheltered in her hands,
Hovering over her chest
The golden light rippled over the snow
An array of grass and orchids sprung
Wherever it willed
And thus the snow began to melt,
Taming the sublime spur of
The frozen maiden of winter's felt
The maiden of Spring puts forth
The blossoms and rich sweet air
The color of honey and petals which unfold
Spring walks through the forest of else
Where the cycles reroutes
Of begin anew, of life and something else

come home to a room
scattered elements and leaning towers
a pile of ******* wrought askew
as the linen bunches waves of the hour

dusty sunlight filtered through curtains
an artist breathing of thoughts gone vivid
papers pencils books and parcels nothing retains
as the artist pours over the jar of living thoughts so livid

time etches timeless, unguided and unforeseen
pastels and paint, words and typewriters
they all glitter in the eyes never to cease
like stars afar in galaxies aflame and brighter  

the world shuffles by, smacking their lips
as the artist pours over the jar of living thoughts
they may even close their eyes and fall in a ditch
no worries, this artist would rather not

the scattered papers smudges of visions
coffee cup stains and food wrappers remain
a reason there's an invisible division
between the ******* who don't

and the ones who do, unconstrained  
*sit tight

in lack of warmth to press away
trembling, crackling thoughts
resonating in my head
sometimes it's empty in there
steady rhythm of cascading snowfall
humming guitar strings bleeding
with every pick and measured swing
the sinking sunset and strips of black clouds
hands gone cold, skimming the steering wheel
driving where no one ever goes, where my feelings
today could just flutter and roam,
the rumble of the engine, I could feel
tumble over the train tracks
I drove for hours to the country side
swaying golden stalks and rolling hills
where even the clouds and horizon flirt
I drove with the music pounding into the metal
with nothing but silence to soothe the rampage
windows rolled and the wind bellowed
whipping my ears to stinging numbness
a grin creeping as the sunlight glinted
singing, really, through the branches and trees
pockets of snow hiding in shadows
sometimes I wonder how I can be happy
when I want to be loved so badly
to want someone to hold me
yet so content in my own company,
I drove, far far away
until the sun set and the stars begin to glint
the ******* galaxy immersed
I was a deer caught in headlights
as the music and bitter taste in my mouth
couldn't even compare to the way
I wanted a syllable spoken
in my passenger seat

craning my neck to the never-ending ascent
cemented stairs narrowing into dizzying consent
flickering, dull neon lights,
my shoes tapped as I puffed
above the steps of flight
the air was cool,
posters plastered on the gloss
sharpie scribbled pertaining messages
historical analogies, flashback memories
creak, the heavy metal door opened
place a stopper, shush my breath away
before me splayed an array of shafts
wooden beams and rotating lighting crafts
silent and dark, empty and stark
I tiptoed and clung to the ladder
tasting like metal and smelling of riddles
I finally sit, spotter vibrating in hand
the piercing white light following my
every trail
headset fastened, murmuring conversations
the show is starting in
3
2
1
go
actors file onto the gleaming stage
vibrant hues and melancholy shadows
each element working in unison
my hands spotting the beams
flashes of color
ringing tones of vocal chords
musical, theater performance
and I sit in my booth
hands tingling from light's heat
watching the show unfold,
behold, transform,
beneath my feet

soft scuffles, flurry into the frigid temps
the white frozen crystals cascade silently
opaque grey skies bellow in furry
spitting more cold as my feet tread
haphazardly, the cold bites my lungs
I run, breathing heavily
treading thick footfalls and smiling earnestly
whipping through trees, toppling over rocks
today I drove to the mountainside
knowing quite well a blizzard was brewing
distinctively reflecting the recklessness inside of me
but this was something which I love to do
to feel my heart beating and my body competing
against the coldness blown my nature
a hint of carelessness sometimes brings out
the best in me,
thick hat and slimming tights
yak tracks to keep my shoes from slipping
skirting around fallen logs and hearing
the crackle of frozen river beds
the sun simply glowing upon the snow beds
as I made my way around the mountain bend
golden light melted, filtered through the
pine leaves, stifling sweetness
with that of the coldness
I couldn't feel my cheeks and my toes
were growing numb,
yet I am much too used to that now
my thighs were beginning to burn
and ice kissed along my exposed neck
there hasn't been anyone to do that lately
I could see my breath puff out in front of me
reminding me that I am still very much living
it's not me and my head anymore
its me and the mountain, running without
no apparent reason,
other than to feel loved
by that of the intimate curves
and the treading of my
sore feet

How to stay anything a world gone mad
sickening consumption
so egos may last
bellies teetering
gitty with greed
and yet we all wonder
why there is so much bad

it's all spinning backwards
everything is concaving
why are we so comfortable
being so blind?  
despise the overgrowth,
yet they present life
killing mammals for sport
yet not to eat what they killed

why so tethered to that of our
computer screens
doesn't it bother anybody
there is a world to see
why,  I must ask, why
the people are growing tired of ****
the government can be of so much more

yet the white men reek in their thrones
not knowing anything
calling a nation their own
when really it's the money
which keeps their ego afloat

history repeats itself
doesn't anybody know
the protests and death
alluding to a brink of war

and who would tell
those mad fools
who would cure
the ambiguity in
their holes

stand still in transmogrification  
my thoughts are lost in constant annihilation
a puddle smooth as mirror of skies
as rain weeps under silhouetted lies

we wander astray perplexed our entire lives
never to really smooth the wrinkles frowned in despise
a circling globe of mesmerizing flights
of peoples souls awakening restless at night

we wonder and ponder
at thoughts what lie in yonder
a dreamer's dream sunlit in beauty of clouds
perhaps we wander to bury our own fire

and as series of flashes whisks astray
never fully to contemplate
why we love to drink sights so faraway
why we never see beyond certainty of date

that the rubies in waking hours
and gems of thoughtless creatures
are all and same, as one together  
systematic to the longevity with one another

for one to truly live
there is nothing but one
in unison, simply
as beastly elegance to rest desire

No matter how hard I try
To wade through the mass of bodies
Their presence press too closely
And those gleaming white floors eat up my feet

Sleet, reek, I possibly cannot eat
The knowledge up so fruitfully
Shoved into our face like sheep
When was the last time you left me any sleep

I gouge out those door handles, yet they standstill
It appears those we praise--
Resents us
Try not to burn us out like a candle
As I sit in your synthetic realms
You call knowledge

hands curled next to my cheeks
damp from the moisture
which seeped as I slept
an exhale of beauty,
grandiose yet so sweet
confined inside these walls
I built around my bruised heart
I felt the light dance on my eyes
and the warmth glistened
peeking my eyes open,
I cried, a sudden blinding sensation
the fiery orange,
the yawning majesty of galaxies,
imprinted in my vision
this morning I woke up
to the sun in my eyes
shining behind the line of trees
the bone-chilling cold
which crept in my toes
I had the sun dance in my eyes
a temporary blindness
now I know to never cry
in my sleep

We all learn
Not to be certain way
Yet there are precious moments
In my day
I just want to clasp
With all my strength
And not give a ****
But u learned right
They all jeer
Not to do that
And that moment passes
And I am left clutching the air
So I nod like I always do
And go about my day

an embellished conversation, words running catastrophe
the words sink fast, fast, fast
swollen with the stench
and gleaming with utter redness
pounding of head, shake to the left
only to glimpse the silver opal
called the moon
slip behind the ridge of mountains,
all these conversations
words translated without comprehension
slaughtered, spat out, the syllables
run rampant
a million times a day
there are two people having
a conversation
I wonder what they saying
I wonder if they mean
anything

I cannot guarantee anything.*  
the warmth of breathing human being
ruffle the cool strands of my hair,
untidy yet shimmering softly
gentle beams of moonlight
Stars glisten in the dark navy sky,
the moon floating like a pearl orb of silver sunlight
To have our feet tired from walking the daily bouts of life,
to feel the comfortable weight of life lifted even for a moment.
To have the stereo humming with low,
swaying beats of brilliant acoustic,
guitar and a ringing voice buttered
with the soothing strum of an ocean’s breeze.
To have our backs nestled on the hood of the car,
the head lights trailing two perfect beams
which stretch far into the dark night,
The headlights catch the swaying stalks of golden hay,
the flutter of moths swinging about in the fray
As the night wanes and the early morning precede,
the car will be turned off, the headlights no more,
so that all that can be heard is our silence
The morning is beautiful,
the silence a comfortable melody,
One whispers a syllable or so,
soon a train of laughter is followed,
it is broken with the voice of loss and defiance,
of confusion and youth,
the air is sweet and lingers with
the hard knock of trees, presumably pine.
The horizon glows with the faintest sheer blue,
the pine trees stand in the distance
Soothing, cool breeze flutters across the field,
Like the way I feel
When my life feels right
In short glimpses as such
Yet,
I cannot guarantee anything.
My memory taunted me

a splendid ecstasy
a festering delicacy
the joy at sight
blue marvelous skies
its own manifesting destiny

the race among stars
clouds sweeping breathlessly through
a world just created for you
my own billboards scarred
and a pelirious love affair

What am I supposed to do with you?

highways arched
and seamed the cloudless sky
and as coffins forsook their march
thousands of souls drifted in lies

frightful winds whisked their laughter
their life, their high, the light from their eyes
a Shadow crept, soon after
as bodies fell from the sky

thud, thud, the bodies broke cement
and  sweet red slathed thickly over ground
thud, thud, the bones crackled an icy descent
as skeletons eroded to their gravel mounds

forever, graves enriched seethes
to this day a shrill of knives
an icy brute stripped of teeth
which gnaws our everyday lives'

a three-shot fellow and an odd-legged stance,
whisked into a buffering four-walled alleyway
where the sand dunes eat his
sore, sore feet
and the air too brittle
for his syllables to stand
    his sandpaper hair teetering
       on a brink of straying grey,
            here he stands.
unmoving, without love
             for his land.
the sky soar far, far up above
         the brisk blue sky
              or thundering reminiscence
              of an age gone too far
                    to hold,
growing old in a bare four-cornered alleyway
    where this old man
          once with fiery gaze in his eyes
                  and a spring in his feet
                        have built his home
                                 with walls too steep

maybe, perhaps, there is a time
where the fallen shadows
and hooded eyes
sweep out from the deafening hood
into a broader night sky,
a stunning, sublime silver
of magenta crescent moon,
blood orange and flushed
because that is the way
reminiscent sways amidst
a stroke of passion
and there is that beautiful moon
spotted glistens of a starry sky,
talking, laughing, singing a soft melody
to cool the aching strides
which create pitfalls and unbearable demise,
nay, don't look that way
don't squander where the land is darker,
where the soil is tethered by an eternal blackness,
no, keep a chin up high to the glimmering starry sky
and the glimmer of magenta orang moon,
holding close to dear heart the memory
of a twilight setting nigh

Swirling, swirling echoes of greens
Gem stones shining like
A lonesome star
Magnificently beating
Evoking some sort of light

One can never pass
The cry of those
Left behind in their own graves
He was like a ghost
Shimmering slightly
Whistling an empty tune
While climbing the chimneytops
To heaven's embrace
Racing to never catch his breath

Her nimble smile fluttering
Behind the iron ivory wrought gates
Under the chiming calls,
Crying beautifully she wonders
Closer to the music
Where her fingers could finally
Strike the light of dawn

the haze settling like a brisk pace
of tap tap tap on damp pavement
the wave rippling as the wind bristled
with each eager step, one by one
away from the steps of a hollow expanse
the hollowness shrouding, corrupting
the inner veins of flesh and bone,
the vision dimming to that of narrow keyhole
as the clouds raged and the ice clang,
tap tap tap the steps tread onwards
towards the horizon, towards the steppes
of bountiful bloom and effortless search
what is that I'm searching for?
the window hasn't been clearer,
the days more lopsided than that
of a rocking, seafaring vessel,
an arching ship, a restless thought
of a destination a hands breath away,
yet a million miles etched into decay
will I make it before it is too late

Soft, glowing touch of iridescent blue
Gently caress the splintered skin
Stretched tightly around knuckles
Which wouldn’t give in,
I’ve been keeping my eyes open
Been bloodshot and shining
From the beauties and tragedies
Yearning, striving desire
Relentless tug underneath
Hidden door locks and silver keys
Not even your sound can wedge
Between what can truly be mine

An explosion of flavor
blossom on the tongue
the sizzle of vegetables
and laughter sweet sound

the crunch of iced snow
and campfire to keep
our fingers warm
slight stars twinkling

nothing so precious
but time with friends
loose wine and tongues
recounting memories

Etched in stone

the riveting chill of putting pen to paper
scratching of thoughts, blotted out
crossed over, shaky in terror
pulling the weight of body
behind the rusted ink,
knowing there is no
turning back
once the
ink scar
the
paper

the galaxy stretched far above
the ghosts of mountains
and whistle of sea shells
just the serenity of a moments pause
afraid to look down
and see the ground
vanish before my feet

Who am I
With the settlement
In what I consistently do
In what I unconditionally feel
To entertain your happiness
Just as they are my own
Most, in fact is
The love I have
For my friends
Family
&
You...

And what would it feel like
I always ask myself
Striving to be the best
Filling my cup of tea
By the affection reciprocated
Yet to actually have a beloved
Who would unconditionally
Feel and do the same
For me