Is it wistful nostalgia or but memory's retreat?
To a more peaceful place of what used-to-be,
So tells me: my mind for whom myselfly-deceit:

Calls the ecstasy of past love by my heart to thee,
Euphoria of bliss of a time when hearts complete,
Could then says He if by nay to I and aye to we,
In eternal yet lustful hypnosis 'til drawn effete.
Likewise the waves enslaved to hands of Moon,
I, then, too enslaved to wistful nostalgia's wound.
And may 'tis again be'st the trickery of memory's retreat.

Now, tells myself that again shall hearts rest in peace,
Only to shatter in tomorrow's failures by cyclic calls,
Nearing yet another hypnotic fate by which mind-cease,
Leaves me again with but memories and nothing at all.
Oh, why's treacherous tragedies of ghostly amity -
Vowing to drive me to the inevitable state of insanity:
Ends then the tale of cycling thoughts of what used-to-be.

Oh dear shield upon the fortress walls for me,
Only wear'st thy facade shall gracefully hide,
Until may the masks fall when vulnerably free,
Shall see'st none of thy face of thee other side.

For but I shall mask the mask, for none to see,
And that I shall keep'st thee secrets that I fear,
What the horridsome being is named truly me,
When wandering greeting souls draw a'near.

To falsify oneself shall be'st thee greatest task,
Inevitably abandoning 'tis world without trace,
Shall I then wear and unwear mask after mask,
For now even I know not of my truthful face.

Dearest hand, may thy desperations hinder,
The mere desires of future events unfold,
For a heart that wants, seeks to fasten thy hands,
But thou'st hands, fasten, holds a story untold.
For a stream flows some steadily pace,
As do time, who flows as a  lonesome creek,
Yet, the lingering lusts of the desiring souls,
Shall to the future thou'st fiercely seek.
Dearest time, for the creek whose water holds,
Thou'st undoubtful truths of thy future untold.
Yet to some, the stream is but immensely brief,
For the creek's rushing stream yields thy grief.
And tell'st the story of dreams unresolved,
Upon the midst has't dreaming tales dissolved.
And too, for the current dreamers with goals untold,
Moves thy creek too rapid, for his story'st yet to unfold.

Oh dearest time, must thou'st be too passive for the desiring souls,
And too fiercely swift for those with unfulfilled or desiring goals.

What makes of treachery if by demons unseen?
For one unyielding man to see but a single glimpse,
Shall inevitably yield thy lingering mind unclean,
As if then shall cunningly stroll upon 'tis minx,
And let's the invisible hand of Christ intervene.
Aye, aye - for Geminis speak not of the wrong,
Which by demons who shall harbor 'neath his mask,
And hinders unspoken lips 'pon what desires long,
Then may wanders come forth and faithfully ask -
But as demons unseen - hath he been fine all along.

Towards to the sky, do these lonesome eyes stare,
For the darkened abyss and skies above fail to clear,
The longing site that hides beneath the covered mask,
Faithfully waiting, for until time, its relevance will cast,
The heavenly light upon this surface of earth,
Of greatened heights and improper worth.

Oh, so these longing eyes stare upon the skies,
Waiting to see what beyond those darkened land lies.
For four scores of days have passed in time,
And yet these loyal eyes stay, awaiting a sign,
That maybe one day these dark skies will clear,
And reveal to it, the vision it can no longer bear.

And when it does reveal itself, can the heavenly lights then shine,
Upon the grounds of earth, by its means, be deemed divine,
Upon the hearts of those, who sees its radiant light,
Be drowned in warmth even during the coldest of nights,
Only for a minute time, for then the clouds will return,
Leaving these eyes alone, only to again long and yearn.

For this is the feeling of waiting for something extraordinary and great,
It is when it fiercely comes and goes, do we stand along again and wait,
For its faithful return of immeasurable time...

The heart, a tide, may change amongst the day,
Like the brewing wind from north to south a'sway,
An imminent death that strikes so abruptly for one to act,
Hence draws the forsaken horrors and emotions deemed fact.
A swaying heart like imminent death is but marked a treachery,
For but the tide from the brewing storms crashes only so severly.
But amongst the tide shall we anchor our hearts with mightly chains,
And sway not the heart nor mind for we'st be imminently sane.

For the moon rises to its peak and the night grows long.
And the mass of people joyously mingle a'sound.
As you wait for your mate a'here as time lingers on.
Until the soundly turns soundless as the lights curtain down.
And you finally discover that you were alone all along.

Oh words, for which I am so incapable of saying,
Trapped beneath my chest, should they a’praying,
For if they indeed spill, must one then clean,
The words of treachery hath never been seen.

Oh dearest words, then just live inside my heart,
Never to see the light and never grow apart.
From the garish of day to the luminous night,
Always speak the wrong and never the right.

The tension in the vessels of which they brood,
From the outside truth aren’t they seclude.
And to intake a breath of air can you truly feel,
The weight of the air and that it is real...

She’s like a seashell drifting upon the shore,
Awaiting someone to truly see her worth,
And grasp her beauty to which they’ll adore,
Like the shell aimlessly sitting upon the earth.
Her love’s a treasure that they’ve yet to know,
For there’s so much more than what you see,
She’s but a blessing down to her very soul,
Like the seashell, a gift from the sea.

Because you love me, you hold those a’dear far,
Since those a’far, you hold dearly without mar.

Because you love me, you wield a grand mighty fist,
Which across my face does it seemingly, passionately kiss.

Because you love me, you speak not a single word,
As through the door have I rushingly stirred.

Because you love me, do you not chase me out the door,
For I have chase thou, only a single week before.

Because you love me, do you give not a single look,
For through an hour of the winter’s warmth have I shook.

Because you love me, you surround yourself with hungry crows,
That feeds your life unknowingly and reaps what you sow.

Because you love me, do you give the mind to those pesky crows,
And to me do you instantaneously produce your quickly no’s.

Because you love me, you cherish your crows greater than I,
For am I nothing but a tool, a naming figure, a passive shadow to thy?

Because you love me, my gifts sleep near a flame,
Whose warmth reaps the ashes of the heart, it claimed.
Because you love me, a pendant bestowed to you, split a’two,
For means nothing have you month not yielded the two a’glue.

Because you love me, thee crow’s charms sleep upon your bed,
For a tool-like shape do you and it gracefully wed.
Because you love me, upon my head do my heart you toss,
Whereas the pear-like plush upon your bedding does it doss.

Because you love me, you are unaware of those around,
Until they have advantageously brought you to your mound.

Because you love me, you say you love me with wholesome lies.
But it is only me that your mind wants, but subconscious denies.

Because you love me, you are grateful with the loss of I,
For at a deathly grave, a flower blooms ever so greatly high.
For what differences hold between either the crow and I?
I know not, for upon the earth I stand, whereas crows fly.

And that a heart holds only a finite volume of heavenly light.
Until it inevitably bursts by the wrath of the greater hellish might.
And with your grand fist may you then grandly smite,
My wholesomeness into shattering pieces, both left and right.
Until then will you finally arise to your greater heights,
For may you and crow make the happily greetings tonight.

For when fierce tides subside and brewing winds tame,
Shall too then tames our crazed-wild hearts tonight,
Struggling for the final inhaling gasp of air which remain,
And alas can we bite thy lips and bid farewell to all in sight.
O’ but can we all, as Man speaks with pleasant tongues, adieu,
With impending steps doth we glimpse but a fading look and miss you.

Let the mighty tale be told
   Of a newfound city,
Where there lives a maiden
   By the name of Annabelle Lee.

May my love for her penetrate
   The bounds of heaven and sea,
Should my dear little heart love always
   The beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Had our love blossomed once afar
   Where the night as still as can be,
And upon her lips had I planted a kiss,
   For the beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Wherein that Summer had we countless more
   And many wonderful memories,
As I fell in love with the beloved eyes
   Of the beautiful Annabelle Lee.

Yet may the heavens be cruel
   To part my beloved from me,
Brings her to 'tis newfound land
   Leaving me to love what used to be.

Alas the secret is that 'tis tale
   Be'st not that of an Annabelle Lee,
But of a lovely maiden ---- ,
   Who'll be forever special to me.

There once lived an honest man who lived upon the greatsome Note,
For upon the words of He shall the man's life fulfillingly quote,
Had he gracefully cherished the colorless life for which he was given,
Had he conducted no sins, thus none shall he beg Him to be forgiven,
Had he neither, to a life, granted eternal sleep nor deathly soul awaken.
But indeed had upon his own unwilling life had another brutally a'taken.
What once a great soul shall upon an unknown grave shall his body lay,
Until a lively being approaches his bland deathly matress someday.

There once lived a devilish man who fiercely burned the greatsome Note,
For over the misleading words of He had the man swiftly overwrote,
Had he honestly hated the unfruitful life for which he was given,
Had he proved that both lies and sins shall a wealthly life a'riven.
Once upon a peasantly life had he unsoberly and forcefully a'taken,
For with greatsome wealthy and slying lies shall innocence sway,
To a man whose facades demonstrate greatness shall be greatly any day.

For when the devilish man whose life comes to a faithful end,
Then upon a greatsome grave will to his eternal slumber tend.
For when we learn of his ungoodly lies and deeds of the slaying of another,
A godly fellow may deem heaven to thy'st honest man and hell'st to thy other,
But when we walk beyond the graves of these very two men,
We can only wonder where in 'tis falsly world were the two sent,
Dearly do we hope to be true to the voice of He shall we to heaven a'go,
But truthfully, hath we falsely created the Heavens and even He, may it be so?

Maybe that in death shall these bodies just lay upon the unsoiled earth,
For when the life of we has finally drawn conclusion from the time at birth,
Maybe that regardless of greatness or dishonestly shall all men be'st the same,
For in death, who but the falsely beings are to judge our decaying remains,
The honest man who has lived so truthfully to the greatsome Note,
Has only prematurely met greatsome death and a grave to denote,
His truthfulness to the mighty He, that Man has conjured up the definition of,
For hath none shown his existance or hath He himself speak to us thereof,

May we just lay beneath the soils, for our soul has no greater place to seek,
For in death are we all but equals - to be slowly devoured by a diet of worms...

O’ History, my grand squire, who dresses thyself in robes,
And conjures the euphoric melodies in intoxicating trance,
Rings again when infiltrating my sanity in piercing probes,
Meets beloved, I and you, by virtue of pure happenstance.

Glorious beauty alas dares happens once more than nay,
Hunts the diapered foe, O’ abominated Cupid by chance,  
Shall ash as Phoenixes alike our debris hearts rise today,
In wholesome offerings to but love-struck happenstance.

Stutter words, but no meaning to those which hold none,
Perhaps the fated stellar alignments arth we to romance,
Let us all embrace the enchanting night when all is done,
And give the bidding rose thornes to adore happenstance.

By shocking telltales in undesired casts from love to date,
In adieus, may Autumn leaves amongst the skies dance,
As what could indeed be blossomed by the grace of fate,
But instead hands the gifted pleasures of happenstance.

A being with no name is but a nameless rose,
Who bares no existence that no One knows,
And has no spacious being for One to call.
For without a name thus be nothing at all.

Oh my dearest time, for have you again flee'st by my grasping hands,
And for hath thou bestowed the drought of harvest to my very lands,
And yet for time has bree'st the misfortunes to me for years and years,
For He has deemed that sorrows comes not in singles but in greater pairs.

For in 'tis new year, shall, to the past, I give my wholesome regards,
And wish'st for the fortunate endings that time fiercely guards.

So to 'tis new year shall false vows light false determinations a'flame,
As a fragment of time shall such drive live, for inevitably 'tis fire a'tamed.
But shall'st these very happenings of the past year come'st to share.
Until thee walk'st the identical path down 'tis very next year.

To the mind did I tell I would miss you not,
But the heart, must intervene and rejoice-fully tell,
And conjure failures to let those memories rot,
Speaking truths to the lonesome hours like hell,
And even to the greater prime moments had I forgot.

Two lonesome nights may lonesome waters fall,
And treacherous waves may against the chests,
Yielding greater pains in the mind’s shallow hall.
Falsing the mind to say that he knows best,
That to live without can he do like the past recall.

As without has altered to with in a measly nine,
And now forever do I wish to call you mine.

Josephine, in her time, harbors tales untold,
Accompanied by actions at which plots unfold,
Yet, inevitably forsakened by forgiving light,
When all is adieu shall we sleep soundly tonight.
Oh Cecilia, shall final parts with final endowments,
Nests true hearts with false tongues and sediments,
Ghosts to which unharmed shall caged birds fly free -

For upon the heavy sins sits upon heavy shoulders,
For tis weight shall only be by such heavy boulders,
And for words may sit unrest amongst the heart,
Shall never be at rest until words and mouth apart.

Inside her eyes, glimmering stars untamed,
Lands an unearthly angel born worlds apart,
O' lovely, fair maiden by which named,
Valentine of my dear little heart.
Enslaved are we all by her beautiful soul,
Yielding remembrances of a time passed,
Ordained to never once more be whole,
Until the space between us diminishes at last.
Summer roses alike our love must bloom again,
Had once wintered sheets consumed the land,
And within our hearts does it always remain,
Yearning but a kiss upon her hand.
Like rainfall, her next majestic decent we wait,
Yet in her absence, we adore still with certainty,
No distance for the heart can separate,
A pretty face that haunt us for all eternity.
Destined then, to neither be tranquil nor sane,
As life's unfair course leads us wherever,
Must yesterday's memories never grow wane,
Shall I love through it all, always and forever.

May the heart be but a tide that crashes and recedes upon the shore,
For too is my heart that loves and recedes for never am I truly sure,
Shall upon the beach-floor I lay, to stare upon the graceful sky blue,
And let'st the ocean waves dance, conducted by the wind as it blew,
May'st my heart and tide be but in 'tis haunting dancing trance too,
Shall I be'st but a single soul, yet shall hauntingly only think of two,
At night shall upon my mattress these eyes stares upon thee ceiling,
Praying for bandages that upon 'tis bleeding heart shall be'st sealing,
For mornings shall I breathe the blossoming air and graceful scents,
Inevitably, I pass faithful monuments where thy presence still sense,
Some days may I, a wandering journey amongst the pouring rain,
Realizing what greatsome throne hath lostfully and heartfully reign,
And too shall I realized that had I really nothing I could really do,
May'st it be but faithful denial for  inevitably shall we say a' dieu,
And shall upon such pure loving hearts, shall greatsome hatred dye,
As what once love shall take a lonesome breathe and inevitably die,
May'st the grace of her maiden once again cross my lonesome sight,
But until then, shall'st I take my leave and abandon 'tis haunting site.

Shall whom with graceful charm grants but ungraceful time,
Had Salem conjured what tranquil beauty in but mortal gal,
And to such enchantings had deemed neither deed nor crime,
Yearning to which droughty lands shall inevitable rain fall.  
Lasts then, man in fruitful awe by the touch of grace,
Young'd to the centennial, yet angelic sightings 'pon 'tis place.
Now undeniably leaves us all to miss her dear, beautiful eyes...

We all act and do for what we believe is love's sake,
Yet we face endless solitude by dawn's wake.
Are we truly sane?
Or but love-crazed devils in pursuit of ubiquitous love.

A memory by any other name is but gnawing death,
For alike a rose, beauty engulfed by unyielding flames,
With flames turns a gallant rose to darkened ash,
And too engulfs my fair remembrance to shame,
Of what once a fair maiden - poisoned by the touch of I,
What once a fair moment devoured to deceitful ash,
To which tears shed to wash away what once a rose,
And sings its tragic tunes fading love to hate in clash.
But a memory - thankfullingly bestowed as Someone's gift,
Blessed with an art of transformation by which a masked-******,
To which builds the perfect dream - an unreachable heaven,
'Fore Dove to whom flies towards thee and reminds thee the truths.
A thought, a dream, a fair moment by which truth had lit,
Hand-in-hand by which arises in false romance,
A devouring love to which by passions aflame,
Unknowingly leaving the fair-burning flames to commence.

It is but a dream of yester-day,
A feeling for which bares me nay,
A moment of peace for which speaks to me,
And sings its enchanting songs of what used to be.

It is but a voice of whom whispers in my ear,
The lost tale of thee that of which I shall never share,
The scene of thee that of which I shall never paint,
For 'pon the whites of purity shall I dare not to taint.

It is but a daunting gift from an unnamed Someone,
For which shall nothing appears 'fore thy mind when all is done.
Hence, 'tis forsaken bounty shall be'st what is left to seize,
-- Twin daggers for which reminds me of but twin seas.

Alas -- It is but a gnawing death that shall forever tread,
The dark midnight trails, housing the demons I hath bred.

Oh, unforgiven heart shall thy weeps sorrow tears,
For hath thee dearest maiden whose heart denied,
Shall thy lonesome sleep awaken by shallow ears,
May thou'st gracefully forsaken thee dearest pride,
Among'st thee stars shall one wholesomely pray,
For His dearest blessings as thou'st solely in debts,
Yet shall upon thy matress shall'st inevitably lay,
Thee lustering greatsome lies and truthful regrets,
And we breathe the cherishing scent of midnight air,
May to thee wishful stars thou'st hopes greatly lend,  
To finally realize to oneself, what is truthfully dear,
Until unforgiving time hath drawn to its faithful end,
May then thy'st maiden forgiven thy cruelful self not,
And shall may 'tis dreadful ploy, we inevitably forgot.

For may autumn deaths bring but a carcass of sorrow souls,
    Yet April showers may hinder thou'st flowers a'grows.

For may the wind howl into the emptiness of the midst of night,
    Yet shall the songbirds still sing their lovely tunes tonight.

For may the graceful tide, like the seasons only to come and go,
    Yet shall graceful tide meet graceful wind hath it truly blow.

For may wholesome hearts shatter at the hands of lingering fate,
    Yet when whole again shall the butterflies cherishly mate.

For may wandering spectres be'st that which resembles you,
    Yet when the day is over, shall speak'st nothing but adieu.

Hath questioned we all, to be or nay,
For to be's, a dare to which hardships face,
To battle'st what demons bred day and day,
The blood 'oth our guards we inevitably taste,
In hopes dreaded will may hone value some day...
And for nay, a cowardly escape, yet speaks of ease,
Yet alas ar'th we scare greater by nays than be's.

O' should sorrows engulf the unseen shore,
Lays the corpse of man for when hearts torn,
By the thought of what-once-was but is no more,
And the unspoken vows to which we sworn.
Now in sleepless nights shall awake we lie,
'Pon sheltered roofs and barricaded hearts,
Awaits yet another loveless day drifting by,
When undoubtedly hath we made our parts*.
For a period of time for which hearts grow fond,
As simple Strangers evolve to Life’s greatest fruit,
To which the heliocentrism of man lived by the bond,
Of the love-seeking Maple and its dearest root.
But alas, ends our story with inevitable parts,
When in tales lie but two truthful endings here,
Shall either in blissful vows or shattered hearts,
For what-once Strangers shall again we bear.  
O’ for what-once bliss by the Star’s Endearment,
Yet unfortunately by concluding Fates declined.
For forever will I cherish the simple joyous moments,
Of a time when our paths unexpectedly aligned.

For may the heart reek of weeping sorrows,
As the mind hesitates on wandering thought,
Hath we all ventured for better tomorrows,
May the sadness of yesterdays we forget not.

For amongst the rays of sorrows shall 'tis bloom,
Thee faithful rose that engulfs the misfortunes of I,
For which thy troubles yields nothing but doom,
Shall 'tis rose be fed with thee tears I cry...

Dearest being who lives in thy heath,
Who chants the words of failed love:
Death with love is but life beneath,
Life without love is but death above.

O’ Lord, is this not but another mistake,
For feelings like prologues can be so brief,
And hearts that give more than they take,
Tend to be the ones that are always in grief.
For those that open up are the ones that see,
The inevitable pointlessness once you know,
How she shines so angelically as can be,
But she reaps souls of those in sorrow.

For in time's inevitable passing arth we to hear,
Noone's voice that of which had we grown fond,
When a'flamed hearts diminish to dust in the air,
And what lingering daggers are all passed gone,
Do we then sit alone, with nothing to share.

Let past funerals harbor sheltered lands - as we 'pon our wings,
For alas,  when grown accustomed to consistent pain,
Shall walls of immunity blossom with the Spring,
Let not no graceful tragedies of us die in vain,
Instead embrace what faded scenes and Nothing.

Simple words may heed simple hearts,
When complex notions urge confusing minds,
Let us harbor lies untold with simple truths-apart,
Concludes a single farewell unkind.

A pretty face for whom we once knew,
When what has grown glorious has decayed too soon,
And shall we silently bid adieu, for that unknown,
But a beloved face, doth she has, 'fore the glimmering moon.
Amidst then shall we let caged birds fly free,
In the unbounded winds of dear Madison awaits,
Where we shed our trechered lingerings of her unreturning heart,
And rests our unsobered minds in inevitable fate.
Where shall neither man nor wo may by daylights kiss.
And too may we, by her presences and impeccable glee, miss.
What is love but the freeing that of which we love,
In by due time, shall we have neither love nor mind.
Where her beloved eyes haunts us until the end of time.

Cold showers may bring cold flowers a'here,
Eternal winter may the skies unwillingly bear,
Could the warm bodies of thee thaw 'tis not,
Impending frost hath these very skies brought.
Likewise to the oceans, who shows but fiercesome might,
Into the depths of 'tis drowning tomb, shall you seek tonight,
And shall never again will I say your name...

May the heart act upon the soul with no thought,
For upon the conjurings of passions shall we burn,
Upon thee flaming torches of thy lonesome heart,
Only in the pursuing act of thy passion's concern.

Too can we act upon thy brain and lack 'tis soul,
For may logic yield but 'tis delayed passionate act,
Rather shall we'st hesitate thy plot until we know,
That when all'st adieu, our sanity stays intact...

Of the uncountable stars are none brighter than her eye's shimmer,
For the luminous skies incomparable to her brilliance depicted here,
As Neolithics hath once portrayed nature's beauty by fossilized amber,
Do we as mortals give beauty its name by exquisite sightings this year.
Centennial conjurings of angels hath stolen our sanity by the lot,
A benevolent gift through heavenly hands by the touch of graceful yearns,
Neither paints nor words shall rightfully capture her fairness not.

Posterity and their hearts shall soon then tell,
Of Fate's cruelty in her wicked tale so brief,
When earthly bodies give heavenly farewells,
Forging gnawing sufferings to restful relief.
No numbering stars in tonight’s midnight sky,
Nor shimmering grains ‘pon the loving shore,
Will surpass the heart’s tearing goodbyes,
And wistfully rests the heart when in two it tore.
Alas, a glass shattered in two will we forge not,
Likewise the heart shall beat never the same,
And undoubtedly nay, beloved presence forgot,  
Please, O’ Someone let ‘tis treachery tame.  
A wish ‘pon thy loving hand a final embrace,
With parting hearts, engulfed with immense pain,
Lives yet another day besides thy unseen grace,
Awakes I, tomorrow with time growing wane.
O’ -  but a chance, a hope, and a single dream,
Callin’ to the gallant Moon, who aimlessly glows,
To ignite what once was but a simple stream,
Whose care and passions peacefully flows.
Maternal love - a passionate, yet endless river,
In time, may existence be but a merging sea,
Whose fair soul gracefully dances and quivers,
From what once was - to an embodiment of me.

Alas, be not that of which we desire,
In silent qualms in the mist of night,
Heed not thy ashes in but a simple fire,
Until sheltered souls take inevitable flight.
Should wistful hearts draw intimate shares,
And unlikely pierrots dance beneath the stars,
May once aflamed gallance hold peaceful flares,
Drawing fated lands to treacherous wars.
Perhaps be it He who crafts us without thought,
Keeping us to puppeteer in his theatric arts,
Unyieldingly entranced towards this selfish plot,
And grants a diapered Cupid in piercing hearts.
Let us wish but act none to but a simple mind,
Shall indefinitely harbor the luminant seas,
Seeks civil disobedience mocked unkind,
And leaves us despaired in burnt debris.
Why then, doth we grandiloquently love,
By which dying threads escapes thy spool,
And pleasant hawkings to hunt from above,
Leaving us to play the undoubted fool.

Roaring thunders shall hereby commence by Zeus’ skies,
As great winds encircle thy mound where ’tis forest lies,
Before Selene shall the engulfing waves devour the shore,
Too shall Demeter blessingly notion the changes of Four*.
Amongst the storm may ****** yield the brewing winds,
Capturing but a wandering petal, which draw’st a’reminds,
With deadly souls for whom lord Hades has grant no pass,
For tell’st, sorrows comes not in singles but in greater mass,
Oh greatsome winds, may thy’st capture ’tis haunting tune,
Voice’st a dearest maiden ’cross the great seas of Neptune.

Rain, by which droughted lands shall thirst,
Emersing what once had held blossomed nay,
Of what better days to whom granted worst,
Shall seek of better tomorrows someday.
May brilliant gallance pierce this treachered tomb,
Where savaged corpses have longed to sea,
And desiring hearts to bear no room,
Until perhaps for eternity to fathom in me.
Leaves regards to sorrows to whom ourselves ponder,
And wields us the light to perhaps prevail for another.

For when darkened forms beclouds the midnight sky,
Still, there exists some light of hope beyond the dark,
And hath men been bestowed 'pon 'tis treacherous world,
Only to seek the promised light, life hath given hope to spark.

As brilliant days loom towards inevitable night,
With fraudulent captivates in graceful slumber,
Heeds mighty tides bleaching this beach white,
Leaving one's curiousity to undoubtedly wonder,
What if once by nay but instead granted in coax,
Chival'ed cursed notions of undisputed tongues,
Where a delusional heart and keen mind mocks,
The gnawing religions of those nays and nones.
Simply plays man, bounded by physical laws,
To whom knows and desires all but no-things,
Shall wears then man, the shacklings of flaws,
And grants the artifact by which false romance brings.

For may sorrows arise 'pon departures near,
'Til reflective silence shares its warm relief,
Regards to what once hath we deeply cared,
Has faithfully faded into the abyss beneath.

Ah, but do bid thanks to the pains that may never rid,
And the momentarily bliss that has Past like Gust,
For inevitably shall foul shapes fair - as thanks to bid,
To draw'st me back to whom I faithfully trust.

Be it heartfelt lingerings to unsought seas,
Enchanted by her beauty in shimmering light,
In prayers to the skies to fathom in these pleas,
To perhaps hold such gracely beings tonight.
Oh dear lady, arth thou immune to woes unfold,
And grants me the silence in unspoken mind,
Shall draws but inconclusions in tales untold,
Alas deems a little grim and less than kind.

May Summer nights harbor brilliant love,
With graceful charms heed graceful farewells,
As by religion’s light doth we bid faith above,
Concludes us all in neither heaven nor hell.
Yet in moral grounds wears us a moral mind,
Infatuated by exquisite maidens whom shall fair,
Within pure palms grasps tainted daggers unkind,
Until what once hath leaves in ghostly despair.
A lovely face shall forever haunt us to the end of time,
Where perhaps we burn silently beyond the mist of life,
Along with all that is beautiful of what once called mine,
Beholds a love and ritualistic ceremony ---.
Oh what a greatly game for had we all played such a fool,
Between clashing reasons with mind and heart,
Yet, what can lust can too be shocked by Someone’s tool,
And alas shall we as two bodies and two souls fade apart.
With simple promises perhaps unanswered draws a final adieu,
But in our deepest thought, do we truly know,
                           That I will always and forever,
                                                      completely­ and utterly, love you.

Until what once withered can blossom again,
We can never, and I say never, be truly sane.

With great ire do the winds graze the land,
Which in time, do the seas with trechery consume,
What once stable oak, left but a grain of sand,
Should we all stand idle, observing what unforeseeably looms.

Looking at strangers trying to forget my face,
My darling, these feelings you can’t replace,
For we’ve been lost and at war for far too long,
In reality, love, our hearts been here all along,
So my sweet maiden, what is there left to hide,
When we already know the feelings inside,
For there’s no one around left to fool, bae,
Because our love is meant to be someday.