as life will have it
some are explicit poems
while others are implicit ones
When you sigh and shake your head
and when you pace the tired floor
and steadily approach  that door
to the hatch that ushers you into a tango
you're quite obviously a vivid poem
with a rhythm and a diction all your own
there is always someone dying to know you
when you brood like an intellectual
and when everything is reality virtual
you're an implicit poem, morose and taciturn
when you paint pictures in weeping colours
and from ubiquitous critics seek no  favours
you're a dirge in e-minor - a veritable lament
that will only go walking when the day may

Roses are grey
Violets are brown
but they are still beautiful
as I imagined.

it dawned
     from the half-bitten fruit,
    this boorish serpent,
      this inner foreboding
          of flesh tingling tempted
    out of frame.

     sin takes to blood, the nail
    sifting the flesh, birthing
         the bells of the word

      fracturing our silences
     displacing the void into radiant senselessness -

       this heart of Pilate
     where once in front of
    this purloined innocence
   the temples crumbled to ash
     of all beginnings

    telling us all of our
     preordained peccadillo,

   unannounced wraith pouncing
   on each to lurid each,
       biting more from the world
    and its land that remembers
     the till of feet welcomed
      by diadems of flagella,

    love have we not, eternally?
      no singing seraphs wept
        as the afternoon erupts,
      a fragmented word: love.

"YOU have a problem.
YOU have to learn to trust people.
This isn't a show all about YOU."
Me?
Nah.
Its not that trusting people is my problem.
That's not a foreign concept,
or something I have avoided my entire life,
as you accuse.
Rather,
I cannot trust myself to trust the right people.
Too many times have others not come through,
too many times have I gotten the raw deal,
that I stopped getting annoyed, frustrated, aggravated,
but disappointed.
finally it is going to be different
* this person totally will come through*
thoughts race through my head
building excitement and potential happiness
only to be pushed over a cliff of unfulfilled promises, broken dreams.
Transforming that potential happiness
into kinetic discontented and devastating pain.

"YOU have a problem."
Not from where I sit.
Just being reluctant to charisma
does not mean there is a problem with me.
Skepticism is healthy.
I would even say that skepticism is evolution,
Darwinism at its finest.
A natural reaction built by the guarded heart
to prevent any more harm.

"YOU have to learn to trust people."
Yeah, because trusting people does so many others well.
Evil is a purely human invention.
What other species do you see
almost obliterating itself,
just because they have
a different exterior shade?
read a different book spiritually?
have varying beliefs?
speak a different language?
live a different culture?

"This isn't a show all about YOU."
You're right.
As I'm just one of many that feel this way.
That have been hurt one too many times.
My story is definitely not an original,
but that does not make it any less worth hearing or special.
Domino effect.
If I spark the match that helps ignite the voices in others
that's special to me.

It's like sitting on your porch on a beautiful day,
The sun bursts through the sky,
Its glorious rays caressing every inch of my skin,
Sunlight dances through my hair and across my face
Tweaks each side of mouth into a Chesire grin.

As the warmth swirls and leaps within it
Sweeps away the withering buds, the dead flowers,
And scatters hope and joy in their place.

But then the darkness sets in,
Clouds roll in thundering, screaming,
They shroud the happiness and bleed it dry,
What was blossoming gasps and shrieks to
Nothingness.

The darkness makes your front porch seem so distant,
I'm alone
In this darkness
As ice dances unruly upon my skin
And frost seizes my mind.

The sun is consumed, its golden aura
Cannot break through
The clouds are too thick, too dark,
It's gone
And all I can do
Is pray.