The innocence that we leave behind is stolen by evil and devilish hands
Evil and devilsh hands that strewn through the velvet ash of the lost, fallen and helpless
The lost, fallen and helpless souls left without a spirit to guide them
The spirit that haunts our own existence, taken back by the innocence of being

The moss hung low off the boughs
as heat rose from the stream.
They walked
hand in hand
along the bank;
their fingers dancing
to the tunes wrens sing;
their hips swaying
to the sun's warmth;
and their eyes found
the feel of poetry
blowing through the trees.

Aztec Warrior. 6-25-15

Swallowed the sun
  in attempts to
       feel the fire,
dimly lit universe
   eclipsed neath
    inescapable moons,
horizons were hued of
  brackish tea's
   indifferent sympathy,
as solar systems' fate
      lost in darkly orbits,
  relinquished their balance

poetic fractured retractions
   gnashing night prayers,
scribbling braille,
     written sideways
 dipped amid holy water's retention,
compromising statements
     of disbelief's proclamation
spinning music the color
     of nakedly sick ******, yet
burnished souls keep on ticking
   half past total trade-offs
   in a spoonful of smoky reflections
         sans sugar's acid trip,
anointed of rose red
        ****** false pretenses
dancing off center
       in disillusioned
   pirouettes of pseudo redemption,
whirling out of control on
         staged tapestry's loftiness
surrendered ballet slippers
        in blistered half promises,
as twisted metaphors sprightly
       tuned out spun anomalies
below birds on a rusty wire tweeting
     admissions of blue's cobalt execution,
rendered inky alterations' inquisitions
        'pon pedaled pink fluff profundity,
exhaling paroxysms of engaged poetry
    in vehemently enraged deliverance,
naught one is ever as they seem
  through pigmented film 'neath
    figment's imagined looking glass
           of ingratiated grand delusions

It's hard to walk
the dunes of depression.
Not only from the loose shifting sands,
but the presence of soul eating,
demonic illusions
that pretend to be poetic
yet are just rotting, hypnotic words
hell bent on falsifying your mind.

The ironic indentations
in this madness
is you are standing amidst
blue sky lithium dreams
of xanax desires,
stuck with rainbow's
colors pounding at you,
making you think everything is fine
as the whole world burns;
a "one day at a time"
horror show
that shouts a *******
symphony in B sharp major.

Hell,
no wonder
I love the "blues".

Aztec Warrior 7/12/15

~

A crowded city street,
strolling a narrow sidewalk,
your hand in mine
Pastel neon lights paint the buildings
in soothing colors,
softening sharp edges,
creating a wonderland
on this warm summer night

A small bistro, street side tables
candle light and tablecloths
tiny dancing flames on white linen
igniting your smile as we take a seat
amidst the din of taxi cabs
racing to find the sunset,
lover’s fare put to good use
in backseat desires

Two glasses of Pinot,
fine crystal offerings
as are your eyes, glistening,
dark chocolate petals
calling me in, hypnotized
free falling into your heart  
as I drink them in slowly,
tasting every tantalizing gaze

A toast to us, touching glasses,
touching hearts, changing lives
as I wonder what I have done
to deserve this dream, you and me,
no one else exists, the city bustles
unnoticed as we sip the fruits
of our love on an enchanting evening
hoping it never ends…

Here it rains,
and the drops runs through the heart,
makes it cool and chills through the veins,
It touches your eye lashes and your lips,
makes it wet and a glimpse of kiss perfect,
the drops touches your body and makes it more beautiful,
from the inner perpetuality there comes an essence,
an essence of love which unites two soul and hearts,
sparks the love and lets it flow,
revives and connects with a touch of inner glow.