My mouth is wrapped in razor wire. The less said the better. Whole worlds are caught between my teeth. My eyes are somewhere between moons, and my nostrils breathe the mist of demons. My earlobes have the jewelry of vast continents. And my throat is strangled with amethyst tears. My hair wraps your shoulders. My pearls touch your belly. And my hands? They flutter like leaves in the wind to catch galaxies. I long to say the three words. But deserts live on my tongue.

Yet it takes only a moment to say goodbye.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 3/7/2016

the other day
     it felt like overnight
spring flowers had appeared across the meadows
      cowslips  spring snowflakes   crocuses   daisies  daffodils

they tell me
in a little while  it will be spring
no matter that white caps still decorate the mountains
storms blow rain  sleet and snow across the land

the flowers know

they will not fold their leaves
grow back into their cozy soil and wait some more
they will defy a few more frosty days
slow down a little in their flow of energy
then blossom forth in all their power

show us that nature’s life renews itself again in force
no matter what our mood might be

flowers will bloom

I read in a poem,
Sky black,
             Scorched Earth.
But the night is a jigsaw:
I sit on my porch and constellate
The fires, the fathers of worlds
While I think of the words
To perceive what I will never touch.

My spirit ascending
To touch a thousand
Light years of light,
They have never heard a word,
So I write the fire,
Like a son to father,
The poem becomes a legacy
Of flames thirsting for words,
I drink in the light
And give to them words,
They will never know why,
The poem will reach them
As an ember of misunderstanding.

The immortal word
Is a light reflected .
I will write to the stars,
And when the poem reaches,
I will have gone from this place,
I write because I am a man,
Mortal and dying,
My words will remain.

The stars constellate men.