Flee from me as far & gone as our needs must be -
To the distant stars & beyond; this, my plea to thee.
Keep from me worn & wan; My Grief, My Misery!

Life, was ******, & yet you still wish to make it so.
I bet you planned & set each manic scripted episode.
But, I'll be the man & get all I left back again tenfold.

Oh, does thou ****** hatred thru her candor truly shrill?
Know just how much a dread you were & are to me still.

Gift to me gifts, sure! not your present pleas
-If truly ****-poor posture deadens Grief.
Wish duly this, you're not sure, pressing needs
It's to me this: pure, hot, for less than these.
Which doobie hits? Forgot your lesson, Steve?
This truly is, more, (not for questioning.)
Ne'er take me for the motley foolish things
Where late thee adored me, got me by the cruelest means
-There may be morphine by the tulip leaves.
Share, make me more, free not the ghoulish wings.
Swear they need Morning Time, it's the newest tease
Where maybe pure themes rhyme with the truest ease.

Gift to me gifts, sure! not your present pleas
-Ne'er take me for the motley foolish things.
If truly ****- poor posture deadened Grief,
(Where late thee adored thee, got thee by the cruelest means.)


Wish duly this, you're not sure, pressing needs
-There may be morphine by the tulip leaves.
It's to me this: pure, hot, for less than these.
Share, make me more; free not the ghoulish wings.

Which doobie hits? Forgot your lesson, Steve?
Swear they need Morning Time, it's the newest tease.
This truly is, more, (not for questioning.)
Where maybe pure themes rhyme with the truest ease.

The living endure our inquiry, but not you, ye whom thru

decease roams free. We put queries to all you left behind, to seek out what whilst living troubled your weary mind. But still your thoughts remain a mystery, your clues thus choose to evade using no reason, no logic, but rhyme -and I quiddle no longer upon your Poetry, I am the quidnunc who figured you foolish, a fiddler fond of wasting time.

According to what do you judge merit in a world where worth is in the judgment of the witness?

By virtue of what do the many lions roar
When silence speaks to thee near or far?
To what end could you shut the open door
That let in the light from the nearest star?
I am that creaking hinge which bothers so,
I squeak in the small hours of the night
And wake I the merry wives that know
Something is in the air, all is not right.
You smell of perfume, ***, and death
Wherefore wert thou, O Romeo?
She asks, “Hast thou not answered yet?”
What hides beneath that veil of virtue,
And was it all that you had hoped it'd be?
The candle burns at both ends for thee.

Disturbed, perturbed, rocking in a boat.
Afloat, remote, searching for the oath
Which admits sailors into the castle mote:
But, no luck, I don't recall at all, the absurd
Word, a verb, I stall! It's on my tongue tip:
Drip, slip, drop, slap, flip. Oh! I forget!
Disturbed, perturbed, still rocking in a boat,
Because, I was, at a loss for a passive word.

thy phantom that is the soul shall reveal itself
widowed 'mid lightless perceptions of the ashen
gravestone. not one-of all the troupe-to intrude into that solitude. be soundless in that isolation which is not confinement. then the ghosts who stood in mortal being
before thee, are again in decease  -neighboring thee; and their intention shall govern thee.  be motionless. the night-tho dimmed- shall glare; and the stars shall not watch over you from their cathedra in the heaven -with luster like fortune to the perishable given: but their eyes to thy indifference shall seem as an all-consuming blaze... which would embrace thee -forever and ever. now are ideas you shall not cast out. now are concepts never to fade away... from thy frame of mind shall they befall no more -like frost upon the ground. the gusts of wind are still, and the fogs upon mountains high are as umbrae.
yet in tact do they remain. O! how they hang upon this, the midnight air -most arcane!

Deny thyself any such loving touch I giv'st,
Upon thy neck, upon thy bust, thy lips-
For if thy ever doubting trust has soared
Into the obscure, Oh! a most just reward
For my actions, then I must account
For this and more, for, I am thus bound
To these backlashes which I must endure
In these days of no fair love, this shut door;
Which I admit aquit me not of Lust before;  
And days know thereof, evil once did line
Within me then, now exposed; once within,
Always with. Fair enough, I admit my sin!

"To err is human; to forgive, divine."

I took to rage in a fading moment,
Tho such a bore is not my burden-
No, I will not daresay that the omen
Of the Earth may purge me of any sin
That devilish pride had indulged in.
I have no opportunity to daydream.
Some call it passion-that sea of flames!
It is but the throes of such mad desire.
If I can dream-Oh Lord! I need strength!
Its origin is more sacred-more sacrosanct.

I shall not deem thee fair game, & so retire
From this attack, little birdie on the wire.

I will proclaim God to be The Almighty!
I will try to reach as many as I can.
And nothing will stop me, not even
This Satan who continually attacks man!

OF all who applaud thy existence as the morningtide-
all to whom their truancy is the night-
the blemishing all in all from the afterworld, the holy star-
of all who, wailing, bless thee constantly for the tunnel light-
for Life. ah! above all, Life. for the awakening of
deeply concealed Faith in verity-in virtue- in Mankind.
of all who they are, on Misery's unholy cradle, lying down to wither  -have suddenly come to Light-
at thy soft words spoken now --- a prelude to their eulogy ere the ending of this thing Life.

Could I,
                   Should I,
                                               Would I...
Pick this tiny rose for thee?
Take a life to see you fulfilled?
Clip the thorns so that
No blood will seep?
Watch it live a while and
Quickly wilt?

Could I,
                     Should I,
                                              Would I?
I can,
                         I shall,
                                                   I will!

Under the vast dark of dawn's lofty cope,
with eyes as ablaze as the great sphere,
desire from the first of childhood cheer
looks skyward, past the shadows *****
through the lens that dreams cannot scope;
and makes no woe of the twilight dear.

Ne'er say the attempt naught avails,
the toils and the struggles are vain,
the betrayer nay drops nor fails,
and as all has been, all doth remain.

For while the waves that are breaking,
seem to have no aching increase to gain
-long ago, thru brooks & rills making...
comes hushed

--flowing in

The Main.

There is joy in the forbidden wood.
There is bliss on the outcast shore.
There is order where none stood...
by the wide sea, and refrained in a roar.
I love not flesh the less, but Nature...
ah Nature! I love thee more, and steal
from all I may have once for sure,
to unite with the heavens & feel...

what I nay can tell

-nor can conceal.

Twilight, the early black some may call,
Is upon the horizon, on the hem to fall;
And I see a swarthy bat round the belfry,
As I shudder cold, wrapped in a peltry:
What madness this is, I think I know;
I've been here before, not so long ago.
Could I be on the fritz, at the edge
Of Sanity -once more at the selvage?
Come with you where? The Asylum?
Yes! Yes! I do want a slice of delirium!
But please do loosen these **** buckles.
I can't breathe-- -& neither can Chuckles.

True love's beauty is a gem everlasting,
It's charm deepens with every passing
Of a moment -and will forever keep
An arbor still for us; and a gentle sleep
Full of dearest dreams & dulcet breathing.
Therefore, every day we are feeding
It Worth plucked from the tender Earth,
To watch it live & grow to greater worth.
Of gentle heart, of the joyous days...
Of all the flourishing & bright ways...
Which we count like the stars above
-Made for our pursuit of our true love.

Yea, in the vast river of Life withdrawn,
With echoing narrows amidst us thrown,
Circling the endless insipid Beyond,
We mere transient souls sail all alone.
Even the reefs feel the engulfing flow,
And so our boundless ends we must know.

Although in an icy heart,
Thy hate flows
Uncongealed.
I know not what ails thy heart,
But know that Time can heal.
What could bother you so
To start this bold
Pursuit at vengeance taken?
Is it not bigger
Than you know
---This road which you do lengthen?
For when you take the law in your hands,
To take eye for eye...
You force the other to make plans ---
To fully make you blind.

The sky muted silver in color,
And I am still running,
Looking up from the earth's dolor.
The luminaries of the heavens
Glowing bright in appearance.
Breathless, devoted,
Twinkling at me as I think of her,
As time-worn relics shine;
Burst thru patina tints.
Smooth, burnished,
Brought to a luster again
After many years neglected in Time.
The corridors where my ancestors
Ran and run. This affected peace to me,
And I am one with them,
From this day on,  I am one.
Take me thru the years,
The key to open doors,
To another day, another way,
With hopes in tow; and  I realize this day, as I think of them…  

I know I am never
As alone as I think I am.

Despite the dark of nightfall's scope,
With eyes as bright as the hottest star,
I see you enter the door that lay ope
In the nebulous black, vague, obscure.
I do fear much, but shadows, no more.
So why do you pay this visit at my door?
Have you come to claim a debt I owe?
I've paid my dues, I  think I know.
Oh! It is you, Sir Death, at my door!
Silly me, I thought you'd let me sliiiiide
Making house calls still? Yes, he replied.
He took me away, to return nevermore.

All love seeks itself to please,
And for itself has Love a need.
To itself, it is in itself, a Comedy
None so funny, as the joke on thee.

More than fair and filled with extant fire

aflame above unto God so near;

joyous in which all virtues conspire,

that to the earth no other be so dear;

argent rays which ne'er blind the guest

blast out such darts & low hearts wounded;

as angels alight to put burdens to rest

in virtuous desires, in heavens tunic.

You forge my logic & design me within;

you check words and teach hearts to speak;

you quiet the storm
which love did begin,

strength your creed, but thy temper weak.

Dim is the world where light ne'er shone,

bright is the world thru you I have known.

Note that all worthy love is worthy thee note,
Blessing that within you, within that blessing;
Writing thee in Love, my only learning by rote.
"Guest," to "Heart"now you list so, I see guessing.

Blest, I writ thee, there Love was found best.
Gift by each musing or logic therewith,
That one forms, all in form,one that blessed
That one Heart is all my Heart, inside I live.

Better much that ye love certainly I. Mine adored
Gladly that darling and essential, "Nature."I espied
Never fault in thee, yet deep region, that I explored.
Be trusted as true; double seeing hearts be ALLIED.

ALLIED be hearts seeing double; true as trusted be.
Espied I that region deep, yet thee in fault never.
Nature, essential and darling, that gladly
Adored mine. I certainly love ye that much better.

Live I inside Heart,  my all is Heart, one that blessed
That one form in all forms; one that therewith that
Logic -or musing each by gift, best found was Love
There. Thee, writ I blessed. Guessing, see I? So list

You now Heart to Guest. Rote by learning only my
Love, in thee. Writing; blessing that within you, withinthat blessing. Note thee worthy? Is Love worthy all that note?

Hear me out, forasmuchas it is so,
For now at length my doom I know,
Since little all my passion does avail,
Because all my history is an epic fail,
Since this I write and it seems to be,
My entire sentiment swells to bless
You, your name, & all else you wish.
Take back the fortune which you claim
And leave me a thought of the same,
-And this don't deny, you are to blame,
If you do so refuse visitation to me.

When I do sum the moments of the dial
And spy the bold day to darkness fall,
When I survey youth advance the while
And bister coils to white unfold for all ;
When soaring trees so leave their leaves,
Which formerly did a great marquee make,
And Summers' blooms yet bound in sheaves,
Stillborn in a tomb with webs on the grave;
Then of thy allure do I inquest, I inquire,
If thou among the ebbing tide must go,
Since lovers & beauty do themselves retire;
And shrink as swiftly as they once didst grow;
Then what else against the passage of Time
Can ensure survival, besides a timeless rhyme?

So blest are they whose bosoms receive
The Lord's Word with Faith, not believe
Just because their ancestors did before,
Simply due to what we saith & no more.
Great victories of persuasions wrought,
And gained merrily by diacritical thought,
The comfort fallacious thaut; but so keen,
Of having with our natural eyes seen.
What if none had seen, felt, or known?
An extent on second thought they own.
By no personal mandate personally prest'
To exert themselves in effort they detest.


No misleading reasoning or reasons tied.
No one way being the only way to decide.
He is The Light; The Way; The True God.

Oft, in the tranquility of the night,
Ere the fetters of idleness bind me,
Tender thought of you bears a light
Of distant offbeat days that find me:
The tenderness expressed, the tears
Of young manhood's sluggish years;
The sound of lovely words so spoken;
The eyes that at that moment shone
Now eclipsed, obscured, and gone.
The gladsome hearts now broken!
Thus, in the tranquility of the night,
Ere the fetters of idleness bind me,
Sad thoughts of you bring no light
By melancholy days that find me.

I stood cautiously upon that great hill,
The breeze was calming, & so very still
That the sweet new blooms were proud.
Languid pull, in a curve, neath a shroud,
Their sweet leaves by sweetness stems,
Crowns  that keep those astral diadems
Caught from the budding tears of morn;
And clouds were fair, so wispy and borne
Fresh from the clear beck; they still slept
Upon azure plains of sky; and then crept
A faint buzzing among the green leaves,
Born of a sigh that that quietude heaves,
For not the dimmest stirring in the scene,
Of all the umbrage that lie o'er the green;
Was seen as yet, such Joy
such solace did bring.

Here, where the sphere remains quiet,
Here, where all torment rightly seems
As do breathless winds before the riot;
And clouded visions o' cloudy dreams,
Do watch the pastures there growing,
For harvesting lads and such sowing,
For the reaping hour and the mowing,
A sluggish world of sluggish streams.

I have grown weary of sobs and laughter:
And folks that crow and those that weep,
Of what may come there in the hereafter,
For those that slowly sow and swiftly reap;
And I tire of days that grow weary of hours,
Wafted buds of those stilled lifeless flowers,
Desires and ideas; and also of such powers;
And of every single double thing but sleep.

Here growth has ruination for a neighbor;
And far from seeing eye and listening ear,
Pale waves and ****** winds force labor
On flimsy ships and temperaments to steer;
To drive out of control, and therein wither;
And woe not do those who place them thither:
But no such ****** whirlwinds ******* hither -
No such wrongs felt, seen, or so perceived here.

At dead of night in the muteness I sleep,
And set I my dreaming imagination free.
"Will these visions pass to where by Death
Victims think -held captive by their depth?"

'Oh what a shame is a wast'd mind, I think!'
The landscape of our dreams needn't blink
So dim, so dull -subjacent and sunken low!
'Wherefrom comes such limits in the skull?'

My mind aches to be in the know -not now.
"Could I endeavor to provide it somehow?"
I dream all things: Past, Future, & Present;
And if I could I'd  project it without lament.

All that I see to thee, profound as that may
Be: but at least we would be on one page.

At summertide, when heaven's airy sunn
Rules o'er the sky  -the glorious kingdom.
Why to yonder ridge biases a pensive eye?
It's unlit summit doesn't meld with the sky.
Why do those bluffs of dark cast so appear
Sweeter than this ol' countryside lying near?
Loftiness, it is,  lends magic to all the view,
And cloaks the cliff in its merry golden hue.
Thus, with relish, we do dally on these per se:
Certain joys of Life, guarantees we do survey,
Thus, from far away,  can each uncharted scene
More brightly be seen than all Fear, lest its seen?
And to every image, that Fear daubs in scary dun,
Express it into that Oblivion -shine on Airy Sunn.

O Thou whose angel is in the holy place
Of human souls dwells there for a space.
Which from that quarter once conveyed,
To be to deep daedal daytime displayed,

Doth be lost, vanish, and leave behind
Mere barren and void of ****** mind,
Which froward urge doth seek in vain
With random desires to furnish again!

O Thou that in our torn rib cage shrine
Dost dwell desolate, obscure, but divine!
I thought to murmur, I resolved to say,
"The beacon is here, witness the way."
The cry was thus, and thus the Word,
And thus I saw, and aye! Thus I heard.

So I am poor, but withhold the only key
To allow access such dear safe treasure,
The rich will not a moment closely study,
For dull is the point of frequent pleasure.
Therefore are treats so sober and so thin,
Since rarely coming in the ages they own,
Like valuables rich men give on occasion,
Or gaudy gems placed just so in a crown.
So now the time arrives to peek my chest;
Peep my treasure by a spyhole revealed,
Making a blessèd instant instantly blessed
Soon unfolding the noted pride sealed.
Adored are you whose merit gives a scope,
If had, a Victory; if in Poverty, be broke.

Nightfall's soft glow steals o'er the hamlet green, with magic hues to unify the scene. Stilled is the whir that thru the village broke, when round the relics of the old oak, the serfs flocked to hear the harper play, and festivities & joyful hymns closed the busy day. She lies at rest, the matron who delights no more, with cherished fables & legendary lore. All have departed; neither glee nor music flows, to pursue the dreams of chaste repose. All have departed; yet still I idle here! What mysterious charms this quiet spot does endear! Bespeak yon ancient manor scowling thru the trees, whose hollow crown is caressed by the breeze. That casement curved with ivy's greenest shade, first to these eyes, the light above conveyed. The dissecting gateway spreads the grassy court, once the peaceful scene of many a light sport, when all things charmed, for life itself was new, and the heart promised none to be harmed, by what imagination drew.

Sad Soul, the marrow of my erring Earth,
Assailed by these bold passions afflicted,
Why dost thou ache so & endure dearth,
Desiring thy self & looking so conflicted?
Why such outlay, having such little time,
Must ye spend freely on a decayed thing?
Shall sands, ever flowing on, count on by
Yet count not thee out until a bells tolling
And then thou gain Eternal Life thru Death?
Well, Vanity could arrest such noble ardor
If truth be spoken here, this life is a test
Put forth by something greater, far larger.
So shalt thou consume Vanity's Oblivion,
And try to come to know God in the end?

How kind & lovely dost thou build shame
Which, like rot lies in the aromal petal
Doth see the allure of thy flowering name
Yet, in a sweetness dost thou sin entail!
Thy lips do speak the romance of thy days,
Making immoral mention on thy sport,
One cannot criticize but in a type of rave;
Naming names confirms a sinister report.
Yet, in a heavenly house such vices willed,
Which for their residence chose them thee,
Where Beauty's shroud doth veil such filth
All things turn fair, (far as the eyes do see!)
Take care, fairest dearest, of this advantage;
The sharpest wits ill used loses their edge.

My muse's absence saw another bloom
Saw I review of a praise, richly gathered.
Defer your attribute with golden plume
And dearest phrase is by all wit shattered.
I think nice aims while some write words,
And like untutored youths pipe amen
To every hymn that alert ardor affords
In shiny form of discriminating pen.
Hearing you praised, I say it is true,
And to utmost praise I add much more:
But that is in my head, as thou loves you,
Such words are final, they hold rank before.
Then others for sake of words give relief,
Tho my silent thoughts do indeed speak.

Who states most, which can state more
Than this fine praise, that you
Do adore?
Ye whom saw dun beauty
All her store.
Which should illustrate
Where I do pour?
Bare poverty within sad pen
Does dwell:
But a loan could lend a sum
Some vainglory
Yet I still do address you  -if ye Could tell,
That you are you, 
And this is me,
 Such glorifies thy story.
Let me but effigy what in you be Writ
Not making dim what He hath Made clear;
And such a silver shall fluff this Bright wit,
Making your silvers cherished Everywhere
You to your beautiful dank
Right be a curse,
Seeking dolor silvered, left  silver Dolors.

Whilst I forlorn did appeal to thy aid,
My lay alone held up thy tender grace;
But now my civil verses are decayed,
But my frail spark does yield a place.
I bless, Sweet Swan, sweeter difference
Deserves the labor of a virtuous pen;
Yet what of thee this poet does invent
I steal of thee to pay it back again.
I lent thee honor; robbed such word
From that vessel; beauty too I give
To find it in thy roses which I ill afford,
The praise to you, in you it does live.
So give no thanks for that which I say,
For that loan I made you  do repay.

Who will trust my lyric is so just
If be it thought just satirical farce?
As it is, many think I merely jest
When carrying the line in new arts.
I could ink the glamour of lovely eyes
And with devices tally up ladies graces,
But generations would claim I tell lies,
As angels keep to themselves such faces.
So if my aging lines keep to their page,
Tho slighted be, by some quick of tongue,
I could coyly claim ladies be all the rage;
In an expanded measure of an new lay sung.
But were these graces just borne by my writ
None would be just in my eyes to try me by it.

I ponder when so much which grows
Grasps in virtue but a single moment,
That this theater portrays nil but shows
Where the stars in cryptic spell comment;
When I note that mankind does increase,
Encouraged or judged by the selfsame sky,
Boast in young blood; but on high decrease;
And waste a courage on an expired memory.
Then the vanity of this changeable stay
Sets you wealthiest in bloom by my sight,
Where immoderate hours consider decay
To distort thy youth into blackened night;
And, battle I with Time since it is you,
What he took away, I suffused it new.

O there was good fortune in the winds that wafted thru her hair that day, a cortege that graced her lovely cheeks and seemed to know the charm it did to we two lend. From the whispering meadows and the lofty heights, its gentle caresses were to no others more welcome; escaping from the torrents of the crowded streets wherefrom we yearned to be free, free as the breeze which comforted us at will. What den, we wondered, shall we take for our homesite? Which valley shall be our very own? Within which clear river stream shall we bathe each fine early morn? O the world was  not the world in those moments, but rather the earth, a garden paradise which did before us lie.With trembling hearts we ventured on without a clue as to our destination, with nothing more than cloudscapes as our lodestar. The heavy burdens of our former lives were no longer ours to carry, but rather ease and joyous delights were promised in prospect, each to each. Thus far, O Lord! did we make flowing forth that experience our souls in measured hymns: to the open vales we sang out our hearts clothed in not a thing, two separate shades, renovated umbrae we were in that time, such Utopia was ours! We came upon a shady place with ardent steps and sat beneath a laughing sycamore, settling into gentler merriment. 'Twas perpetually autumn, never an unclear day did we come to know during our stay; and yet many were our thoughts, until we gazed into each other's eyes for the first time since our arrival, and thus long did we desire one another with growing love until the sun nearly touched the horizon -and we awakened to the busy hum of the city.

The time that has perished by mine own doing in vain pursuit of wooing, in dreaming of issuing... the light which lies in womens eyes -I most guilty am. Guilty of pursuing; and all for what more than my self-undoing. All all but blind to my pickle, eschewing my darts a' shooting for their hearts, which from the start hath been made a little fickle.

All alone, thy soul shall this accept, 'mid gloomy concepts of the tombs of the dead -none, of many, to meddle in thy secret hour in depth: be silent in such aloneness which is not quite a loneliness -for then the phantoms of the perished who walked in pilgrimage near to thee are nearer to thee in death; and the will of these, the inheritors of this mass, shall thine own will surpass.

The nighttide-tho cloudless-shall scowl, and the eyne of the sky shalt not look down, from the great heaven's with a beacon like Desire to mortals upon the ground: but their red pyre with ire, to thy fatigue shall seem more than some blazing fire, a delirium, which could adhere to thee hereon and forever -an enigma to confound.

My dearest flame is now roused out of her dreams, and her radiant eyes, tho cloudy skies they once were, now shine their resplendent streams, brighter than the midday sun in summer. Now is mine love at the ready, yet let all the undefiled maidens therefore keep attending; and tho I keep now all my actions fast and steady, I pray to Thee that I now nor ever, shall to her name offenses bring -and that, my friends, is what love most true truly is!

A lyrist was upon the night brought forth,
Like a brilliant star up above;
And Poetry did thru his brain course
Racing its way to the central hub.

He did see thru good, and too thru ill,
He did perceive thru his lone soul
The curiosity of the eternal will
Which is still an open scroll,

And with tired feet he threaded
The arcane walks of acclaim:
The arrows of his ideas were headed
And with due haste they did flame,

Smoothest lyrics came from his tongue,
And of so passionate a flight,
From one end to the other they'd sung,
Filling all with glorious light.

But the wellspring did dry like bone
Leaving the world with sweepings
For to digest as literature and tome,
Until from the learnéd came weepings;

And floating melodies, the winds bore
Them skyward till they'd ignite;
Then, like Beauty so pure came forth yet another celestial light.

Glory unknown, by cell hidden -revealed
Too from sightless vision opened; sealed
Within; outside his/hers abundance/dearth.
Now then still moving released, captured
Then, now free. Indentured servant served
Better worse then -than- now best worst.
That this selfsame opposite cursed blessed
Blessing; cursing all; nothing confessed;
Denied us them long; short smooth course
Right left whole divided. Letdown supports
Her hem, this that cloaked unveiled attempts,

Succeeds by far, impressive disappointments.