the paralleled walls
that the spiders dance along
crawling to the song
playing just before the dawn
under the shimmering sneaky sky
eyeballs glaring allow the sun to rise

Her perfume smelled of cheap Musk,
      tobacco and passion flowers,
the scent of betrayal lingered
         long after she had retreated

Ink staining blank pages,
sentiments caught fire

blurb in the moment,
a notion for the ages

simple inspiration's  nectar,
provocation's bedevilment

mockingbird of emotions
all that is sacred and trivial

tempting a blind ear to hear
invoking silent eyes to see

tainted lips to sing for eternity
asunder notes of parchment

one's own big blast of creation
*poetry in the making

love in the pockets
of my blue jeans
cherries white and ripe
the fabulous patchwork
of sunlight through leaves,
all ivory and ink, the sky
with its summer-sad blues.

Wouldn't it be lovely to write
     the way Monet
         painted masterpieces,
or Beethoven composed
       simpatico symphonies,
graciously scripting sentiments as
      utterly stunning as Neruda's
             elixirs of profound poetry ~

I'd sell my soul for an eternity of
      infinite breaths midst
                   such indubitable creations

Blood kissed her lips
  'pon the bane of madness,
wary of world's
         sans conscience,
she conjured her own destiny    
   as silently admonished winds
      withered the existence
        of dawning creations,
    in the name of the father and
       turbulent humility,
          beyond reproached deliverance

Sun flickered 'pon your eyes
    scintillating as the seas,
dappled with the chemistry
   of a thousand swooning moons

like a sugar coated table saw blade
serrated and waiting which my heart evades
as it stands up and shouts repent
i apologize, in the name of self defense

i'm proficient in the role
as the one who doesn't care
despite the effervescent fact
that you've always been there