The black snow runs down from the rooftops;
A red finger dips into your brow;
Blue snow flakes sink into the empty room,
They are a lovers’ dying mirrors.
Heavy and torn to pieces the mind muses,
Follows the shadow in the mirror of blue snow flakes,
The cold smile of a deceased harlot.
The evening’s wind weeps in the scent of carnations.

Sometimes the poem
doesn't want to come;
it hides from the poet
like a playful cat
who has run
under the house
& lurks among slugs,
roots, spiders' eyes,
ledge so long out of the sun
that it is dank
with the breath of the Troll King.

Sometimes the poem
darts away
like a coy lover
who is afraid of being possessed,
of feeling too much,
of losing his essential
loneliness-which he calls
freedom.

Sometimes the poem
can't requite
the poet's passion.

The poem is a dance
between poet & poem,
but sometimes the poem
just won't dance
and lurks on the sidelines
tapping its feet-
iambs, trochees-
out of step with the music
of your mariachi band.

If the poem won't come,
I say: sneak up on it.
Pretend you don't care.
Sit in your chair
reading Shakespeare, Neruda,
immortal Emily
and let yourself flow
into their music.

Go to the kitchen
and start peeling onions
for homemade sugo.

Before you know it,
the poem will be crying
as your ripe tomatoes
bubble away
with inspiration.

When the whole house is filled
with the tender tomato aroma,
start kneading the pasta.

As you rock
over the damp sensuous dough,
making it bend to your will,
as you make love to this manna
of flour and water,
the poem will get hungry
and come
just like a cat
coming home
when you least
expect her.

I am not ashamed to love you
As i sit here and cry
I am not ashamed to have love-d you.
No I am not ashamed to cry for you.
I am not ashamed to love you.
With every fibre of my being.
With every sin, with every moral
with every, ****** hair on my head.
I am not afraid to love you.
I am more afraid of not loving you, than loving you.
I am afraid of you loving me.
I am more afraid of you loving me more than i have even been afraid in my life.
Because than that makes love real.
I lost my love a long time way back when.
It's not important.
There's details in the details.
But my faith in loving you will not wane, falter, stop or die.
I am not ashamed to cry waterfalls of salty tears into my hands for you.
I am not ashamed of messaging you 3am in the morning to see how you are.
and getting no reply.
I am not ashamed to know that my attempts to love you are futile.
Yes, you.
You who would want to punch me in the face, the throat, the clavicles of my heart
to stop me, from loving, you.
I am not ashamed to love you like you were my only love.
I will sing for you in the car my love, i will hold your hand, i will bake you muffins,
My love.
And you would want to **** my very smile with your eyes.
I am not ashamed to lie on my bathroom floor with arms in my chest, with pain in my stomach, and my eyes blind,
from loving, you.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not.
I am not ashamed to be the laughing stock of my friends, family and lovers past;
for loving losers like you,
for loving someone like you,
for loving someone who didn't deserve me,
treated me like ****,
beat me,
use me, washed me up and dried me out, hung me out.
No i am not ashamed.
I am not ashamed to cry these tears because i lost you.
I am not ashamed to cry these tears because i am not in your arms.
For my heart beats strong.
For all these years,
through all these lovers,
through all these partners,
through all these ******, *******, tears.
For i love you more, each day.
For in this world where there is more hatred, pain, sorrow, suffering and loss
I would rather be ashamed for loving you,
than hating you for loving you once.

'We can only truly hate something we once also loved'
Logic eh? What else makes sense in this world?

I'm a hit and run victim
not your first, and not your last.
It started on my road, it started as a whim
I didn't see you coming, didn't see you pass.
In your little red car
you were smiling and waving.
So smoothly you slipped right past my radar
and underneath my skin, just to hear you saying-
Goodbye, sorry, I see my love just 'round the bend.
Forget me and don't look back.
It just started but now it has to end.
Don't worry, it's me, not something you lack.
There's no room for your baggage, think I have too much.
Don't choke on my fumes, don't get blinded by the dust.
Don't wanna hold your hand, don't wanna be your crutch.
It's time to be strong, you have to, you must.
You're a hit and run victim
not my first, and not my last.

Throbbing emptiness

Heart wrenching anguish

Excruciating pain

To feel numb is all that I wish



Utterly vanquished

Dismayed

Distraught

Betrayed and hurt



Days are dark and full of despair

Nights, long and sorrowful



I see you here

I see you there

I feel your presence lingering everywhere

The torment goes on and on



Time is a great healer they say

And I hopelessly, hopelessly wait

Where am I
if not stuck staring into a restless candle
that reflects my own inadequacies
yet brightens up my life
with every pulse of the unstable
and flickering light?

And as the fire rises up,
licks and caresses my face,
my body, my heart,
where do I turn?
There is never a painless walk through flame.

I have experienced this loss,
this guilt, this anguish before;
knowing it would be over soon enough.
I miserably wilt
like a vibrant blur
that is little more than a flash
in a pan of sorts.

The end may be coming,
but it burns like hell first.

You see the red brick road, the lines and rows,
The dreadful woes, and droves of cracks,
It's not bound to last.
It's like a viral attack.

When the lights go down, It's a quiet town, no one else around.

The stretch of stone, lined with trees,
The ground gives way and buckles your knees.
All while the wood explodes, leaving you bruised to the bone.

Don't know why you're here, suppose to face your fears.

The shattered sky, falls and cries,
The weight of life, takes you by surprise,
Gives you burdened eyes.

You sit there stunned, all kinds of blood.

Love calls out, makes you hear it's name,
When you know where to go,
And find your way,
It seems so clear, so hard to stay.

Start taking strides, and your strength arrives.

It's not an easy street,
It's just the way to be.



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