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What are the legalities of coleslaw?
Are they the mere sum of the whole where chocolate is presented as a thin skin which spans the surface of a wheat-based figment of elusive imaginations?
As we casually stand under this winter sky, it would be irresponsible of me to maintain silence as we race towards the beginning of a checkered board of savoury perplexity where the science of food may be held in question.
Are you ready to remove your coat?
My overwhelming Solemnity
is represented-
by brown fields
in Spring-time withering.

Nostalgia riddles me
with, and throughout,
my Life.

It is a Sweet candy;
Sour- like the taste of my gums,
as I reflect on my Experience
as a Living, Breathing,
flesh-Encumbered Soul.

"These are the pale, empty vessels of our spirit,"
says One, about our bodies.

"'Tis the final embrace from the Mother to Son,"
says One, in regards to Death.

"This is the end of a Turn,
of the Wheel just Begun,"
says one,
pondering the endless Circles
of Our existence.

But find,
in one Moment,
peace.
But see,
in one Moment,
the sun that revels on Our faces;
that dances like flames, upon Our eyes.

Don't weep because the moon crests;
because the tides rise;
because the the vivid flowers of Our mind have begun their soft decay.

Instead,
remember that Our dying bodies exist;
that peace can be found;
that the moon is merely a Shadow of the sun's brilliance;

that We,
as all Hope foretells,
as the Flowers of one age,
tread paths for the dying New;
for unborn eyes;

for the Shadows of Our acceptance.
This is a rewrite of my poem, "A Little Wisdom Too Late."

I hope you enjoy, and your comments are greatly appreciated!
With my hands around you, I slept,
and drempt we acquired wings,
flew up hovered above the clouds,
followed the white storkes that seek
far away lands that are still warm.
Sky was the world we always eyed
as we wanted to live closer to it
with the wonder remaining undiminished,
we noticed the white clouds turn pink
flew above the extended meadows of clouds,
saw they change colors as time
travels with sun, then moon appears,
making us feel we need to drink
the milk she graciously sheds all over the world.

Now, we went closer to the valley of night
and heard rounds of gun fire unawares,
unmistakable smell of blood followed,
war cries heard aloud, followed by the cry of wounded people.
you were frightened and lamented,
like a dove in distress,"Why did we fly?
could have contented with what we have,
look at the humans, they ****
and feel happy that they could ****
the other person, fantastic!
but why don't they see,
that they shoot themselves, not others.
I hate this though we inhabit a world beautiful.
but who gives his whole being to beauty?
and just love one another, see that we are not separate!"

I woke up with my hands around you,
and found there was distress in your face,
wasn't it yet another bad dream, I wonder,
It's past midnight, but the gunshot, I heard-
still resounds outside,
      I can't sleep any more...
Dedicated to Mr. Stephen Sondheim**


What is that, Dad?
Why that's red!
Red?
Red is a color.
A color?

Oh yes, colors are those very special things
that make all the difference, that make people and things
different, special and special is what you are to me.

What is that, Dad?
Why that's a cloud!
A cloud?

Oh yes, fluffy snowballs that are toys for angels, see them flowing across the blue screen, that is the angels playing games, like we do too!

What is that, Dad?
Why that is love tears!
Love tears?

Yes, love is what I feel when allowed, me to teach you, about the world and it is wet like tears and dry like when you make me big smile for asking the greatest questions and let me love, my being alive, even more, for the sum song of just we two.
Inspired by a HBO documentary watched last night, entitled Six By Sondheim, about the composer Steven Sondheim, his life, his views on art.  Famous for his willingness to teach, in response to a question about never having children, he replied that he regretted it for what a wonderful thing it would be to teach a child about colors and...if he read this, he would likely say, throw it out and start over and someday I will...
He also spoke about the significant  differences between writing lyrics and poetry (which are substantial).  
Jan. 24, 2014
The love of my life
Is a simpleton
Lagging behind
The timeline of life
Late in acquiring ownership of tangibles
And other worldly nonsense
Society deems necessary
Making him feel inadequate

A late bloomer
With a heart riddled with regret
And hands that carry the burdens
Of his forefathers

He is a knowledgeable man
Of a quarter of a century old
Humour pours out of him
So much so it should be unlawful

He is a composer of melodies
A metal head of sorts
A homebody with an affinity for alcohol

A lanky physique
That adds to his appeal
Pale brown eyes
That glisten multicoloured hues
In the light of day
Darkening blonde hair
Coffee stained teeth
A sincere smile that warms your heart
And the most exquisite nose I have ever seen

He tucks away his bloodied
Bruised heart
Always guarded
Masking his true nature
So he can be “that”  guy
The noble one

He belongs to no one
Someday, soon.. he will
I dread the arrival of that day
For he will never be mine
To worship
My inspiration has been in the trenches lately, don't mind me I'm just gonna dig it out with a toothpick!
Crystallised syllables.
Words fall from harsh tainted lips,
like a syllable of crystallised black,
Caressed at the touch of fingertips,
encouragement seems to lack.

A heart of steel encased within,
the shattered depicted glass,
I pray that you forgive my sin,
End this forever song fast.

Your life is plainly satisfactory,
demeaning in all you do,
waterfalls of crimson refractory
broken, diminished, by you.

Wicked and nocturnal eyes,
return your weary gaze,
reflections hard to visualise,
incentives gone for days.

Leave emotion to drown itself,
in this scarlet river abyss,
place your feelings on the shelf,
and give me one last kiss…
Sublime wildflower

As I lay here awake from juxtaposed sleepless nights of thoughts of you as my own again

I wait..

I wait for a breakthrough through your pearl shaped, intricately carved paths and pink marble stone cover you call a brain
But my love..
I am using a chisel made from cotton candy and dead stars made of designer drugs and fragments of my pale fragile heart

As the chistel works its way through marinating the surface of your "brain" I wait attentively in amusement -
The type of amusement a child wakes up early to on christmas morning anxious to open the largest anonymous present under the tree
But unfortunetly he has not eaten yet, he has not brushed his teeth yet, he has not kissed his mother goodmorning yet or fetched dads newspaper under the mistletoe..

I write dispite of the chapters I have left unwritten to write your chapter (4)
I wait despite of the uncertainty my heart feels - I don't listen to him anymore by the way.

Waiting for you is like waiting for Winter again. I love Winter so I wait but in the process I fall in love with the shades of other seasons and that is the issue
My heart paves way to anything close to the words you spoke, the scriptures you wrote, the spaces you poked

I wait..

in lights of my fragile soul - I don't know if you haven't come to realize this already but it feeds of you, you are its daily grace as the bible is to a nun you are its *bible
and my soul, the nun

I await to love you again and I love that because you love me too and the love I have for you mutliplys by a thousand with each of the four letter word (love) mentioned in this here stanza including the one in brackets

I still really really love you

I won't pretend that I intend to stop living but I do intend to stay faithful to the love that you have given me.
As the constellations you have built inside my dark matter still shine/burn bright as our future together

-----

Leks
I was listening to frank ocean // sierra leone in the process of writing this
Shadow of the past,
echo of the future;
dedicated Musician,
a Phonomancer;
and inspired Philosopher,
a Philosomancer.

A Mystic and a Metalhead,
a lifetime Scholar and a self-Teacher;
a determined and self-guided mythic Artist,
a psychologist and an Observer;
I am a Lover, a Father, and a Son,
a homeowner and a Dishwasher,
a Friend and a bit of a stoner,
a social drinker and a fan of quality Spirits;
I am a self-contained Universe
contained within another Universe;
so fractal-esque.

There is much to this being I call "me"
and so little of it is visible
from the surface of my awareness;
so much of it falls within-
within the limitless void;
to be revealed only in Time,
and, to be unraveled by Time.

Discerning, yet reckless,
a wise man and a fool;
I find myself within,
and within myself,
a beautifully chaotic dance
of chaotically diverse energies.

Within:
the Spirit of a Renaissance Man;
Music, Geometry, Cosmology,
Mathematics, Statistics, Physics,
Mythology, Musicology, Psychology,
Masculine, Feminine, Canine, Feline,
Light, Dark, Day, Night, Sun, Moon,
Anthropology, Cooking, Dreams,
***, Love, Lust, and Suffering,
Spirituality, Science, Language,
Contrast, Respect, Individualist,
Intuition, Feeling, Understanding,
Action, Non-Action, Elation,
a bit of a Goth and a Hippie,
a Rocker and a Composer,
Haphazard Attention to Detail,
Conscious, Shadow, Subconscious,
Id, Ego, Super-Ego,
Animal, Human Being.
Alive.
Mortal.
Mortal,
and grateful for it.

An aspiring,
amateur Shaman
who "shows promise";
dabbling in Feng Shui,
the Occult,
T'ai Chi,
the Tao, Zen,
Music,
Art,
and Life;
a dilettante Poet;
I am an ephemeral expression,
a temporary microcosm,
of both the Human Spirit
and the very Universe
in which we occur,
if for but a brief,
beautiful,
fleeting,
moment.
Thanks to all of you who have, or will, accept my challenge:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/a-challenge-ye-friendly-fellows/
It has been an honor and a privilege to see the replies.
Here are some submissions I received:

The Noose:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/riot-grrrl/

Kelly Rose:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/portrait-of-self/

Tdudleyesquire:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/the-chameleon-4/
crackle rumble boom*
power and strength
rolls through the sky
as water falls
either the gods are
angry or simply
having one hell
of a party
maybe heaven
is trying to dampen
hells flames

either way
I love storms
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