Never so lost,
Never less hope.
North Star was gone,
Let go my rope.

Never so dark
Never less light.
Landmarks were gone,
Left looked like right.

Never so tired,
Never less born.
Sunset was East,
And in the morn.

Never so scared,
Never less bold.
Map upside down,
My torch burned cold.

Never so sad,
Never less free.
Where’s that compass
Inside of me?

You exist, and I wonder how.
Of desires I feared to allow?
From dreams, did God make you somehow?
By my design are you here now?

I longed for hair silky and black,
Hung to the spot I’d rub her back,
Who’d be my aphrodisiac,
By you I am taken aback.

Your hips are curved to my design,
Perfect taste when your lips meet mine,
Made as if by a poet’s line,
I am a man but you’re divine.

I saw you before I could see,
A thought I thought inside of me,
I sculpted you in fantasy,
How is it you have come to be?

The Devil thought he had me
So many times he tapped me
And said, “Fall in love with this one.”
And I did.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times love went wrong
He laughed, “He’ll just give up, this one.”
And I laughed.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times he tried me
And cried, “No true love for this one.”
And I cried.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times he taught me
And said, “He is stubborn, this one.”
And I learned.

The Devil thought he had me.
So many times I had him
And said, “No, not that one. This one.”
And I loved.

I’ve taken my longing with me
Untethered and alone
Seeking a sense of belonging
To be domiciled in comfort
And have found my fortune.
Your arms feel like home.

These travels found lonely roads
Lost among darkness
Leading to abandonment
And doors unwelcome
Till I found a place to live.
Your arms feel like home.

In the chill of cold nights
Exposed and frozen
Hoping a guardian angel
Would shelter my shiver
Under her protection.
Your arms feel like home.

Love is in this place,
what if I am not?
I've hidden my face,
from Love I forgot.

Love’s in search of me,
Am I to be found?
Love wants to call me,
Can I hear its sound?

When feeling alone,
Love draws itself near,
And makes itself known,
But what do I hear?

Love so immanent,
Found me unaware.
Not by accident.
It looks everywhere.

The world sings love, from lover to lover,
And what if I, don’t love enough as they?
Reed warblers trill to love as they hover,
Love on their mind, they sing their heart away.

When the time comes, they exist for one thing,
Like the love that makes the hooded grebe dance,
And grasshoppers with no heart still can sing,
While I, lowly I, have not their romance.

The beasts in their beauty know more than I,
In their love season, their love is complete.
They show love as if they don’t they will die,
But I love from the depths of self-conceit.

When a lovebird calls, he holds nothing back,
How I wish I could love as much as he!
Nature gave instinct for love that I lack,
The song of the songbird is not in me.

Ink wraps its arms around an idea,
Tracing letters that act as messengers
Of hope sent from some remote area,
With defiance towards its challengers.

The ink once it’s written speaks its own voice,
Like a child set free from its parent’s pen.
The pen having etched its lines made its choice
To have its intent not matter again.

Caring for all these children in my head,
They mature the moment that they are penned.
As confidently as they each have fled,
They don’t reflect on me as I intend.

Each word is a child that I have let go,
The ink no more under the pen’s control,
Out in the world seeing what I don’t know,
But into these children I wrote my soul.

“Broken” is an understatement.
“Broken” is like a pencil’s tip.
“Broken” is just an annoyance.
“Broken” is something fixable.

Love heals what is beyond broken.
Love repairs total destruction.
Love rebuilds a thousand pieces.
Love reforms embers and ashes.

“Broken” is too facile a term.
“Broken” heals if just left alone.
“Broken” is the every day.
“Broken” is not in need of love.

Love is wasted on the broken.
Love puts soul in a crumbled self.
Love takes on what no longer is.
Love can make people out of dust.
Love does so much more than repair.
Love is the act of creation.

Flayed and tattered,
Torn and shattered,
Bruised and battered,
Never mattered.

Self-invocation,
Self-immolation,
Self-molestation
No consolation.

Bridges burned,
Lovers spurned,
Disgrace earned,
Nothing learned.

Heart conflicted,
Soul afflicted,
Self-inflicted,
Contradicted.

Hard discipline,
But genuine,
The only sin
Is giving in.

I woke this morning, inevitably,
(Thank goodness), and air rushed into my chest.
I thought not of life, invariably,
But the joy (thank goodness) gives me no rest.

I woke up and I fell in love again,
With a woman who (thank goodness) loves me.
Heartbeats and breath are no comparison
To a lover (thank goodness) fine as she.

No sooner had the sunlight hit my face
I woke (thank goodness) ever more full of love.
While life as its own reward has its place,
I’ve her in my life (thank goodness) above.

Each morning I fall in love more deeply,
Waking up (thank goodness) to have the chance.
New day new chance for this love to greet me
With life (thank goodness) and also romance.

It’s taking too long to drink my coffee.
It greeted me with a piping hot smile
That relaxed me, now it’s lukewarm to me.
To bring back steam, I’ll nuke it for a while.

My eyes were too big for my morning roast.
It calmed so soon, I drank it too slow.
“A venti, please!” I told Starbucks to boast,
It grew cold as I got into my flow.

I’m certain this is what Starbucks intends,
A fine metaphor if ever there were.
All this caffeine on which life so depends,
An excess we all self-administer.

Tomorrow another twenty ounce cup,
Burnt mouth to more quickly go bottom’s up!

These scenes play out on eyelids’ screen,
This virtuoso performance
That no playwright could have foreseen,
Of such fantastic discordance!

Engrossed in this film with no plot,
With unknown actors in the lead,
I’d look away but I cannot,
The action is driven by my need.

Leaving the theatre of my sleep,
All of the faces still remain,
Fantasies filed away so deep
Inspire the poems in my brain.

From whence a poet’s vision comes—
Forgotten scenes that once were clear,
The rhymes are just a trail of crumbs
I use to bring the real near.

I arose slowly like the morning sun,
Consciousness begun as a bit of light,
To a place where the day and I are one,
Leaving behind the discontent of night.

The sun must have so much love for the dawn,
For the kisses given its sun-kissed rays,
Relieved the false light of the moon is gone,
Dream kisses pale in light of those by days.

The sun each morn smiles as its loves renew,
Warming dreams gone cold under moonlit air,
To dream of soulmates under midnight blue,
A poor substitute for you being there.

The best of dreams are gone without a trace,
When in the morn I wake to see your face.

Remember well, O breathless kiss
While melting oneness in your skin
Soulful eyes of passion’s abyss
Hold me close to the dream I'm in.

Trembling hard within our embrace
Fearlessness settled on your hips
Tenderness spread across your face
The Heaven found upon your lips.

The whispered comfort in your ear
So satisfied in binding trust
Broken down walls that brought us near
Two souls beyond two bodies' lust.

Ne’er more perfect did two unite
Released from tortured fallacy
Compassion roused to star the night
A night surpassing fantasy.

The severity of wanting
Blessed wanting
Wanting to want
What you already have.

Feeling desire so haunting
Piercing desire
Desire desire
Love you already love.

An incomplete love lacks wanting
Cursed wanting
Not what it wants
More, less or diff’rent love.

I want a love I want to love
Love not wanting
A wanting love
This love I want to want.

Loves sees the bands, colors of a rainbow,
And in their perfect stratification,
Begs to see more, what else there is to know
Between colors’ identification?

Loves sees the spectrum, red to purple hues,
Where seven colors, beautiful enough
Disguise preciousness hid within their views,
Vibrant colors the peak, love sees the trough.

Love sees beyond the discrete colored bands,
To join red and orange, yellow and green,
Blue intertwined to violet like held hands,
Love asks what magic is there in between?

Love sees rainbows, but is not satisfied,
That line between colors intervening,
Spanning the sky, but look deeper inside,
Love asks to see beauty’s inner meaning.

Residing at depth so deep,
Encapsulated by madness,
A heart once broken heals itself.

Darkness itself has no meaning
There, where light has never been seen,
The place that hearts must go to heal.

The infinite is closer than
The distance away from sorrow
A heart must travel to be healed.

A place no love can penetrate,
Where loneliness is redundant,
Broken hearts become whole again.

In that beyond, the seconds tick,
As time, ever the master waits.
Time, immanent time, heals the heart.

She offers up stolen kisses,
Of pilfered lust from other men,
Of lips of empty promises,
To bare her nothingness again.

She clothes herself in nakedness,
Her basic need is to entice,
Her body is her sacredness,
Inviting men to paradise.

She has beauty misunderstood,
Her ugly inside permeates.
Skin deep she’s mistaken for good,
By fools that she humiliates.

She’ll gift a night of fantasy,
And all she’ll ask is for your soul,
She knows you’ll give in willingly
She’s mastered lack of self-control.

Time spent in obsessive contemplation
Of infinite paths of infinite ifs.
How many if only buts today alone?
I could be infinitely different.

My head hurts, my soul is so uncertain.
I’m this, and not infinite other ifs.
I am from mistakes of pure carelessness,
I am random intentional choices.

My world is what it is, but is that all?
What remains of other infinite ifs?
I have memories of worlds that weren’t,
Of worlds that might be infinitely worse.

There is an unknown me inside of me,
Who pursued some other infinite ifs.
And yet, what if I chose right every time?
What if that unknown me is also me?

The days, they flee like frightened prey
From ravenous needs of the past,
Appetite that feeds on today,
Voracious hunger’s everlast.

Still open wounds prey on the weak,
Tomorrow’s young without defense.
It’s deadly game of hide and seek,
It’s pain’s surviving consequence.

Tomorrow has not built the strength
To outrun this ferocity,
Anger pursues and shortens length
So it can feed on what could be.

The ruthless past pursues to feed
In service to instinct to ****,
Attack and let the future bleed,
To prey on time so it stands still.

Her voice lingers in the air, still and dead,
Stifling like oppressive August haze,
Stagnant musty pressure upon the head,
Like humid air that hasn’t moved for days.

Her voice lingers, her words stuck to my skin,
Putrid filth I can never wash away,
As unforgiving as a mortal sin,
I can’t be cleansed of what she had to say.

Her voice lingers, her “no” rings in my ears,
A branding iron of shame on display,
Her answer to my love will last for years,
Words I did not deserve to hear her say.

Her voice lingers, its echo like a pall,
Her voice lingers, “I don’t love you at all.”

Everything withers, e’en leaves of a tree,
Lush and full of life, verdant canopy.
The years take their toll, brittle death sets in,
The floor greets darkness the bare tree lets in.

The living have their time, then fade away,
Life lasts a moment, death years and a day.
We perish, and the preserved go rotten,
What we did, who we were, long forgotten.

Our long days belie our shortness of years,
The ground remains dry, unchanged by our tears.
Nothing yet lives that won’t see its last dawn,
There is no forever; all will be gone.

Plants return to earth, and us back to dust,
We live in denial; should we adjust?
Everything withers, e’en leaves of a tree.
I know this, yet, I am compelled to be.

My tears owe themselves to delight,
Flowing feeling I cannot fight,
Same tears that were sadness at night
Blur my eyes in elation’s light.

My tears owe to feelings so strong,
A heart that’s been toyed with too long,
Same tears for no love to belong
Celebrate that I was so wrong.

My tears owe to struggles with fate,
Lost loves to which none can relate,
Same tears cry alone while they wait
Flow from the joy of my soulmate.

My tears owe to emotions raw
Convinced I was creation’s flaw,
Same tears of shame as I withdraw
Thankful I embrace love with awe.

Days pass, hazy sunrise to misty night,
Yesterday and tomorrow like today,
Again, again, no difference in sight,
The fog that fell will never go away.

Nobody goes out when it is like this.
All routes barren in unpassable gray,
Again, again, another day to miss.
Who would drive blind, in darkness, anyway?

Look around, there is nothing but sameness.
Nothing changes except from slow decay.
Again, again, time falls to the aimless
Stoic and lost in a life thrown away.

Once hurt, just once, and the spirit has died,
Leaving behind an empty shell to stay,
Again, again, each new hour cast aside,
To die just a little more every day.

There between discontent and enchantment
Sits the self, seeking awe and amazement,
In response to perceived monotony
From the loss of its own autonomy.

There between morning’s hopeful open eyes
Sits the self, no different from last sunrise,
Welcoming heavy eyelids of midnight
To close one more day that seemed not quite right.

There between poems and the literal
Sits the self, with insight ephemeral,
Waging war with the real and imagined
Encounters with thoughts so undisciplined.

There between what is and what can become
Sits the self, embodied delirium,
Each unique but with no definition,
An unresolved eternal condition.

She sat beside herself and asked,
“Do you know where this feeling’s from?”
Her self stared back at her, unmasked,
And wondered who she had become.

Who but herself could ever know,
These things she thought that she once knew?
“I barely know you now, and so,
When was the last time you were you?”

The two of them, just her and her,
Each tried her best to understand.
Her self said, “Why are you so sure
You’re not exactly who you planned?”

“I wanted to be you instead,
Before you filled me with regret.”
Her wounded self smiled back and said,
“Perhaps you haven’t been you yet.”

I’m made of dust, dried bones and incomplete,
To be cursed for want of a stolen rib,
Barely alive with the faintest heartbeat,
A grown man like an orphan in his crib.

No room for a soul in my shriveled veins,
No life support for fragile loneliness,
To acquiesce in sadness given reins,
A flawed experiment in holiness.

To be alive gives no consolation,
My helpmate has absconded with my soul,
Turning my devotion to temptation
To fill a void when I should have been whole.

This lesson has been far too hard to learn!
To God-forsaken earth let me return!

She is in my breath of words so often
That just to speak is to feel kissed by her,
To have my discontented voice soften,
As the gentle kiss of a whisperer.

She so inhabits each letter I write,
That I dwell in them as they are spoken,
So each poem is her inhaled delight,
Said aloud is her kiss for the broken.

The poems from her spirit emanate,
My pen is the instrument of her heart,
Each word is a moment to osculate,
Breathing in her kiss as the words depart.

I send out poetry with emphasis
On the words she breathed deep into my lungs,
Planted on my lips with her passion’s kiss,
Words she inspires play between our tongues.

True love seeks a silent place,
A peace of unburdened voice,
Where lovers speak face to face
Without the past’s background noise.

Experience digs a pit
Crumbling love’s foundation,
For two lovers must commit
To a brand new creation.

Lessons learned in agony
That true love should leave behind
Are the cruelest irony,
And so hard to leave behind.

Rocking, rhythm, bobbing head.
Quiet wisdom, words unsaid.
Moving, swaying, in a trance.
Feeling, praying, like a dance.

Darkness, hearing, murmured sounds.
Soulful, fearing, fire surrounds.
Comfort, pleading, self laid bare.
Crying, needing, selfless prayer.

Heartfelt, wholesome, voicing praise.
Faithful, welcome, end of days.
Forgive, revive, guilt away.
Strengthen, alive, here I pray.

Intent, inspired, sensing awe.
Arise, aspire, then withdraw.
Recede, to Earth, breathe the air.
Shalom, rebirth, peace from prayer.

A snowflake’s lifespan, once but a droplet,
Now infinitely a unique object.
Oh, lucky snowflake! You never compete
With other snowflakes. You are formed complete.

Oh, to be so born! To become my own
Arriving on Earth, meant to be alone.
You lucky snowflake! You have no power
But grow beautiful, to live an hour.

You are not long here, made of winter chill,
But precious snowflake! Do hold your shape still!
I am so common, never quite like you!
Each of you snowflakes, are a snowflake true!

Of frozen water, from the cloud above,
You became special, one and only love.
To live snowflakes’ lives! What would I have felt?
None would be like me, but too quick to melt.

I have a question of philosophy
That bears directly on humanity.
Are the feelings I feel so soulfully
A result of my physicality?

Are my emotions incorporeal?
If I had no body would I still feel?
Feelings may not be the pure soul ideal.
What I sense does make my emotions real.

And if emotions are ****** bound,
Love and compassion now seem so unsound.
Feelings are stirred by what I see around;
I think my spirit world is earthly bound.

We’re taught ****** drives are so impure.
I find comfort knowing that’s not so sure.
I shall no more resist the world’s allure,
For true love on earth is the only cure.

Isn’t “love” more varied than “snow,”
For which there’s more than fifty words,
In language of the Eskimo?

No two loves are ever the same,
It’s the greatest understatement,
Two loves should not have the same name.

Love’s a unique organism
With its own character and traits,
And not by nominalism.

Love. A word so insufficient.
For each time I say “I love you,”
It feels horribly deficient.

Each facet, a surface so resplendent,
Till ground away with endless polishing
To find innate sparkle magnificent,
O’er timeless glow that we’ve been cherishing.

O the eons spent on its perfection,
Dulled easily without the jeweler’s lens.
What gain had from chiseled vivisection?
To scratch the surface with corrosive cleanse?

What value is in diamond edges smooth,
Where lines mark surfaces with precision?
Is natural shine too luminous to soothe,
So we treat works of time with derision?

Hardened we underestimate its glow,
Its care requires the finest instrument.
The process used to make it shine was slow,
But dulls with the pressure of improvement.

We so misjudge the obvious places,
Searching after our most empty spaces,
Running straight for the prettiest faces,
Fooling ourselves in meaningless chases.

Has anyone found Love where predicted?
Fantasies to which we’re addicted?
Love’s not how the romantics predicted,
Foolish poets who end up conflicted!

Love is not the salve of those in despair,
Crying till morning for what is not there,
Trying to swipe on some profile somewhere,
They buy what’s on sale, but buyer beware.

They love too free, expecting rejection,
Just to love who made them their selection,
Love of convenience with no connection—
Love ends and begins with introspection.

Love is not something you find if you try,
Focusing on just what pleases the eye.
If Love arrives, there’s but one reason why—
You happened to meet the right passer-by.

I can’t stop thinking of lips,
Glossy, pouty and luscious,
A tongue that twirls, darts and dips,
Sensing a sense so precious.

No feeling exceeds kissing,
More than any sense of touch,
If lips on mine went missing,
I’d miss nothing else so much.

Dreaming of red lips on mine,
With a tickling tongue atrill,
Feather soft tongue’s tip so fine,
I cannot hold my heart still.

Use a tongue to enter me,
Grab my face to *******,
Taste as sweet as sweet can be,
Kissing’s where my love comes from.

You’re Not The One I Dreamt Of

You’re not the one I dreamt of,
The secretly sinister
Mysterious character
Who was laughing at my love.

You’re not the one I dreamt of,
Your face was so different,
Pretentious while diffident,
Toying with falling in love.

You’re not the one I dreamt of,
Inviting my hidden needs
Promising the basest deeds
Manipulating my love.

You’re not the one I dreamt of,
With the lips of a temptress
And eyes of a seductress
Who live in dreams not in love.

Last year blessed me like no other,
Though past sins need absolution,
In my hoping for another,
I offer these resolutions:
Continue to write to inspire.
Keep after curiosity.
Win Powerball and then retire.
Adore those who inspire me.
Take pride in watching my sons grow.
Love them through the mistakes they’ll make.
My books featured on a talk show.
Act with intent for Heaven’s sake.
Achieve integrity in love.
Try to see more without my eyes.
Get weight down instead of above.
Tell my faithful heart fewer lies.
Resolve traumas at years ago.
Listen more closely to God’s voice.
More west coast to avoid the snow.
Don’t waste a moment to rejoice.
So thank you for the things I’ve seen,
Keep in touch in Twenty Nineteen.

In your coming and your going,
Feel the love my soul is knowing,
The gentle zephyr through your hair,
Should remind you my love is there.

In your pictures or in the flesh,
Each time my love wakens afresh,
Incomparable imagery,
Arouses love inside of me.

In whispers or your written word,
I dream that mine’s the voice you heard,
You’re nothing short of living art,
Writing your poems on my heart.

In fantasy or in my bed,
“I love you” shall not be unsaid,
You may well be a dream unreal,
But truth is in the love I feel.

She’s a figment for vulnerable men
Who see beauty through self-loathing windows.
Her beauty is far too much to take when
It pierces the heart where passion’s sin goes.

Ashamedly smitten men curse their eyes
For beholding beauty they don’t deserve.
They seek her attention, she ignores their cries.
They grovel on their hands and knees to serve.

Her nakedness sows men’s basest skin’s need,
For intimate contact with lurid thought.
She is the temptress, they’ll follow her lead,
Through gates of despair their lustfulness brought.

She strikes men dumb just because she is there.
They have nothing real and pure to compare.

I’m aware of my awareness of you,
Of my absorbing everything you do,
And wonder if you are aware of me.
But you are not real, so how could you be?

I’m loving the feeling of loving you,
Of investing my heart in all you do,
And hoping inside that you’re loving me.
But you hide your heart, so how could you be?

I’m aroused by my arousal from you,
Of the lust I feel watching all you do,
And aching for you to make love to me.
But I am nothing, so how could you be?

I’m needing those needs I have for you,
Of needing to live in the world you do,
And needing to dream you also need me.
But you’re just my dream, so how could it be?

Which other side would you reflect
If you turn?
What kind of change could you affect
If you turn?
Something new to learn?
Turn.
The world’s your concern?
Turn.

What would be your new direction
If you turn?
You would overcome rejection
If you turn.
That to which you yearn?
Turn.
Live the life you earn.  
Turn.

How many parts? Transient…
Tearing apart? Permanent…

An angry one. Powerless…
It’s never done. Sorrowless…

The battle rages. Survival…
Till one prevails. Revival…

Is there a third? Unaware…
Has it been heard? Everywhere…

Forces at play. Unresolved…
Hear what they say. Unabsolved…

Fight for your soul. Unlivable…
Your self-control. Forgivable.

Your kisses are like colors to the blind,
Your touch like an aria for the mute,
As elusive as passion to the mind,
As beyond the grasp as an absolute.

Your kisses like a full moon in the day,
Your touch is like a rainbow’s harmony,
Like language that the angels use to pray,
Or the dreams that wide open eyes can see.

Your kisses are like clouds held in a palm,
Your touch like a silent cacophony,
Embracing the ferociousness of calm,
Embracing the constraints of being free.

Your perfect kisses defy description.
Your touch is a sublime contradiction.

I’ve traveled the world
Lying here in bed,
Had places unfurled
All around my head.

I’ve ridden on dreams
To fantastic sites,
And followed the themes
Of songs sung at night.

Drifting to places
That don’t exist,
While here in spaces
That real life missed.

In sleep I don’t stir
And go everywhere,
‘Cause awake I’m sure,
I’m going nowhere.

Carelessly crossing this chasm
For finding fallacy in fear,
Enter with enthusiasm,
Through thoughts that are thanklessly there.

Bringing bravery to the bridge,
Tripping over trepidation,
Pacing o’er pious pilgrimage,
Away from alienation.

Approach with awed anticipation,
The bridge beyond being banal,
To the valued validation,
Across achieving all your all.

Taking up this terrible truth,
Understanding what is under,
Spanning the other side will soothe
Being burdened by your blunder.

Between the sheets, in perfect peace,
The back and forth is synchronous.
The movements slow but never cease,
Then rise with violence amorous.

Between the sheets, yet closer still,
The lust for love becomes sublime,
One slides in to the other’s fill
The coming moments beyond time.

Between the sheets, the eyes roll back,
The light caress has now dug in,
Moans interrupted by a smack
Of rhythmic impact skin in skin.

Between the sheets, in unison,
The lovers’ gush of spirit meets,
Their finished glow beams like the sun.
They lie alone—where are the sheets?

This spoken language,
Spoken by my heart,
In garbled anguish,
Can’t be deciphered
By a mind that learned
To speak happiness.

My heart is vanquished,
Crying to come home,
In foreign language,
Can’t be understood
By a mind that learned
To listen for joy.

This is when your body learns loneliness,
When your thoughts don’t comprehend what you feel.

You crawled from out of my heart to my head.
From where I wanted to keep you instead.
I should have known once you entered my bed,
Dreams I have of you would need to be fed.

My heart would hold you but then you burst out,
Reminding me what mem’ries are about.
I was a fool to have had any doubt,
That the seed you planted in me would sprout.

My love was too much for my heart to bear,
I could not ignore it and keep it there.
Since you came around it hasn’t been fair.
My stale lungs need to breathe love in the air.

Between my heart and mind you shall dwell,
And when you’re near me then all will be well.
While our story has still chapters to tell,
Without you my heart’s just an empty shell.