Of long streets marked by dim lights.

Concrete steps that ran the side,
of your leathern'd shoes worn out,
by the myriad looks that browsed,
through your soul and left you untouched.

Solemn, You, sideways the smile.

Poet Prophet of the Night.
Only you could fathom All:

Broken windows of the Soul;
Nightless smiles, and daytime Owls
Who, in smooth cadence walked,
stepping into voids of
Coin,
selling their skin;
conjuring
The Harlem Dark,
Of their opaque,
blythe...
Lost Dream.

J. Eduardo Ramos©

From this terrestrial plateau,
Two planets of life celestial,
reach to flirt in that spatial,
One degree of separation;
June 30th and the minutes,
That brought Venus, ever bright,
Close to Jupiter the Rake,
almost kissing, barely touching,
in my version of events.

I do not claim to be God,
Although You Are my Goddess.
If I am not God,
Then why do my lips fit
perfectly on your
Shapely, tender lips?
If I Am Not God?
Then why, do my hands fit
perfectly on your
Shapely, warm body?
If I Am Not God?
Then why,
When I Rest my face,
on the soft, tender, warm,
Nook
of your neck,
I
Fit
Perfectly?

J. Eduardo Ramos©

...Mark
My Words
And
Remember Them
Well,
A
Day Will
Come
When
There Will
Be
Nobody
Left,
To
Cry
For You
And
Your
Solemn
Dead...

J. Eduardo Ramos ©

There are people who are born
To mend flying wings;

The healing comes easy and tender.

There are people who are born 
To curtail your flight;

And their uncaring ways,
rubs hard and rough on you.

Flying and soaring makes up for the times, we find ourselves dragging our mended wings on the ground;

Flying and soaring, up, high in the sky, 

Makes us feel we are one with the world.

Let us remember the feeling we love,
Living as creatures who are meant to 
Always Soar!

Soaring and Flying 
We live up above,

Loving and Living as 
We 
are meant to 
be:
One with The World!

J. Eduardo Ramos ©

Honey is english for Miel.
Miel is spanish for Honey.
I want to kiss the Miel from your lips, Honey.
The words taste sweet in my mouth:
M I E L/ H O N E Y
Your lips taste like Honey in my mouth, Miel.
Yo quiero besar tus labios, Honey, full of Miel.
Will you?

J Eduardo Ramos ©

In the night, dark as a coffin, we make love.
In the coffin we call night, we come alive.
*** and Death.
Eros and Tanathos.
The inseparable twins of this unwritten story;
Melancholic, true, and ancient, indicating a lost Greek tragedy;
Or a modern play, in its vibrancy and allure...

J Eduardo Ramos©