Searching with a ravenous smile
Beyond depravity to find
Lustful home in a woman with
Pinup soul and centerfold mind.

Like prowling wolf under full moon
To find in habitats untold
Attracted to a body with
A chest that shields her heart of gold.

Sensuality unrestrained
Approaches as innocent knave
Seeking that woman who has too
Naked Eros towards the brave.

Drawn out by libidinous need
That only making love can cure
His darkness only wants her light
Everything about her is pure.

The L word is so powerful
A response involuntary
The opposite of sorrowful
It’s synonymous with merry.

The L word draws defenses down
It’s a visceral connection.
The antidote to ev’ry frown,
It defies any inspection.

The L word comes as a surprise
Result of the unexpected,
There’s no need to apologize
For how others are affected.

The L word is a mystery,
But you’re always happy after.
Nothing else makes you feel as free
As uncontrollable Laughter.

I see fine art when I look in your eyes,
And your voice sings in perfect melody.
E’en the thought of you I romanticize,
I read fairy tales in the you I see.

Your eyes a subtle pleasing pair in rhyme,
All history’s beauty found in your smile,
Your touch beats my heart in meter and time,
Your moves transcend every poetic style.

All of the poems written about you,
Inadequately composed by myself,
Are merely shadows of art that is true.
You are the words of a poem yourself.

The trees have shed everything in defiance of frozen air,
Nudely and bravely they boast of their strength with a stoic’s stare.
Their leaves have deserted them, their fruit has fallen, they don’t care.
The trees in January stand strong in loneliness, and bare.

Is their naked strength in the wind how they are supposed to be?
Do they welcome autumn, to rid themselves of their greenery?
Perhaps they don’t notice that the lives they gave have set them free?
They have lost something beautiful, but are they less of a tree?

Spring water flows into their roots, branches drop their icy weight,
The first sun-kissed buds emerge to witness the tree foliate.
But does the tree even notice this, its cause to celebrate?
The tree is at its life-giving most, but it does naught but wait.

The tree changes before me, and because of it I change, too.
But in that moment, when I love that tree, it feels nothing new.
And I think back, if the moment someone loved me, if I knew?
But I am too like the tree, oblivious to what is true.

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.

It makes change irreversible,
It’s powerful and terrible,
It moves a person’s soul to act,
Not even strength is left intact.

It forces unexamined fears,
It’s the most common cause of tears,
Once it’s alive can’t be undone,
Unstoppable once it’s begun.

You can’t resist when it arrives,
You only hope that hope survives,
In its wake are broken pieces,
We can’t avoid its caprices.

A weapon not to be deployed,
But one that no one can avoid,
To make a change you can’t undo,
Risk telling someone “I love you.”

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.

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 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.

I thought I had dreamt of perfect beauty,
Of something so perfect
It could only exist
Hidden in the dream realm
Behind my closed eyelids.

I had never seen such beauty for real,
Enchantment so perfect
It could never exist
Outside of the dream realm
Before open eyelids.

But you, who is so real with such beauty,
You are real and perfect
As I breathe you exist
I never knew this realm
Beyond my own eyelids.

Your beauty is to encounter Heaven,
Angelic and perfect
I can barely exist
Here in your gaze’s realm
Lost beneath your eyelids.

Thank you for the surprise of your beauty.
Dreams were not as perfect
There you did not exist
Somehow here is your realm
To open my eyelids.

I have never met a woman
in whom I did not see beauty,
Though I’ve met so many women
whose own beauty they could not see.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t say otherwise,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

I have never met a woman
that a good man could not adore,
Though I’ve met so many women
convinced they’re easy to ignore.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t show otherwise,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

I have never met a woman
who did not radiate her light,
Though I’ve met so many women
who thought themselves as black as night.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t act otherwise,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

I have never met a woman
for whom loving was not assured,
Though I’ve met so many women
despaired that love had not occurred.
And they were each one and the same.
And if I didn’t love both of them,
I’d feel I was the one to blame.

Left-handed, a lefty, the other arm.
It is forgotten because it’s weaker.
The other, extra, the one with no charm.
If it were a woman, none would seek her.

The sinister and the clumsy left hand.
Derogated abnormality.
Like an afterthought that was never planned.
Its only benefit is symmetry.

At least I could have been ambidextrous.
Then I’d be capable on either side.
I want perfection, not a little less.
This left hand is a source of wounded pride.

When can the useless ever find their place?
This dangling vestige had made me bereft.
But then I found that someone to embrace,
And I saw the potential I had left.

These are the things I think are fun
So much so I can’t choose just one:
To hold you.
To kiss you.
Be with you.
(Not miss you!)
Laugh with you.
Walk with you.
Listen and
Talk with you.
Ride a bike.
Park a car.
Stay at home.
Travel far.
Get undressed.
Lie in bed.
Don’t wake up.
Snooze instead.
Kiss your lips.
Kiss your ear.
Kiss your neck.
(And down there!)
Foot massage.
Shop and eat.
Motel Six.
Fancy Suite.
I guess the things I like to do,
Are anything I do with you.

This. Morning. Brings me. Hope.
Hope. Comforts. My lost. Soul.
Soul. Welcomes. Angel’s. Breath.
Breath. Living. Gift from. Heaven.
Heaven. Smiling. Above. Me.
Me. Thankful. I have. Life.

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.

You know why time flies?
Because it never slows to stop.
When time hits you, it does so with a crash.
It hurtles into you with violent awareness.

Time doesn’t crawl.
It doesn’t walk. Or even run.
Time doesn’t unfold methodically, or slowly.
Time is an event. And another.

The arrow of time is a broken spear.
It’s not straight and not constant.
The present announces itself, out of nowhere.
Time is a measure of suddenness.

Time is revelation.
It is darkness speckled with epiphany.  
Time passes only when change happens.
There are no small changes in life.

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.

Today is the day.
I am a mayfly.
I have no memories of growing up,
and no expectations of growing old.
I have learned nothing.

Today is my day.
I will not sit by.
Swiftly I live, there is no slowing up,
and no time for my feelings going cold.
I will be something.

Today is the day.
I’ll reach for the sky.
Driven only by instinct flowing up,
to unknown destiny of glowing gold.
I am everything.

Today is the day.
I will live and die.
I’ll have seized the day just by showing up,
ignoring fear to live by knowing bold.
I won’t be nothing.

He gave
Almost everything,
Knowing she would take it.
And he let her
Because she needed it,
More even than she wanted it.
He gave
Almost everything,
But he kept enough
To still give compassion
When she left
Needing more
Than he could give.

The sensation of being touched by eyes,
More sensual than any finger’s touch,
With intense softness that can paralyze,
Overwhelmed by feeling that means so much.

Your mystical gaze safely holds my heart,
Your stare is more gentle than velvet hands,
Even in photographs when we’re apart,
I’m moved by touch my soul never withstands.

If only you looked at me endlessly,
In my dreams I’m nothing but a mirror,
That’s never so blessed as to simply be,
To receive your stare when you come nearer.

Your eyes are like fire that doesn’t consume,
But I melt in their radiant presence,
Seducing me like the perfect perfume,
To be touched by eyes is feeling’s essence.

Shall I say “I love you” again?
Endless fawning adoration,
I fear there will be a day when
You tire of my adulation.

But those words are bound up in me,
And I can’t hold “I love you” in,
They cry out with sincerity,
Though to your ears they might wear thin.

“I love you” is significant,
It shows you how I want to live,
Born of feeling magnificent,
But sometimes all I have to give.

Forgive for each I “love you,”
Don’t dismissively demean it,
They’re only spoken if they’re true,
And each time a man should mean it.

I keep trying to forget you
As impossible as it seems
But from the first time I met you
You’ve been a fixture in my dreams.

There’s no moment when I see you
I don’t pretend we’re together
Or you felt the same for me too
That your love was “when” not “whether.”

Each time I look into your eyes
I see so much love reflected
But it’s all mine I realize
And I come away rejected.

Although you effortlessly smile
To draw in my adoration
We’re separated by a mile
Of futile anticipation.

I’m going to keep loving you
From first sight until forever
I’ve tried to stop and wanted to
Even though you’ve told me “Never.”

This tunnel of vision
defies indecision.
To choose with precision,
I hide from derision.

The voices outside me
tell me lies to guide me.
With no one beside me,
I hear what’s inside me.

I can find my out.
I’ve always done without
others knowing my route
or what I’m all about.

Though the tunnel’s unlit,
dark and loneliness fit.
I’ve made myself commit,
Straight ahead, and don’t quit!

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.

There was a moment, so unexpected,
When I woke, seeking just ordinary,
Resigned to loneliness, unconnected,
Our encounter—felt imaginary.

Seeking isolation, no need for lust,
Appreciation gone, beauty no more,
Passion burned, with eyes I no longer trust,
You—a seduction I’d not known before.

Pulling back from feeling, and nakedness,
All the beauty, futile, unrequited,
Choosing instead dullness, and wretchedness,
Our spark—an extinguished soul ignited.

Recoiling, fear, cursed sexuality,
Libidinous impulses, uncontrolled,
Bare, on altars of sensuality,
You—inviting love I cannot withhold.

Kiss me, hold me, bring my love in deeper,
Forgive me, embrace me, don’t let me be still,
Touch me, and own me, and be my keeper,
Your look—I resisted, but have lost my will.

With what fingers have I caressed your skin?
With whose open arms have I let you in?
What lips did I gently press to your cheek?
With what eyes beheld the beauty I seek?

What heart beats now next to yours in your chest?
What arms pull you close when I lie to rest?
What nose inhales the essence of your scent?
What eyes reflect what the look in yours meant?

What hair stands on end when it feels your touch?
What spine feels chills from loving so much?
With what ears do I hear your every word?
What tears of joy have made your image blurred?

Who is this man who you’ve so affected?
Whose whole body has been redirected?
The first time you kissed me is when I knew—
I’ve lost control of my body to you.

It’s simple really, a clear solution.
Clear enough to get rid of confusion.
Wait.
When the love you knew leaves you desolate,
Wait.

The simple fact is, you’ll never solve it,
Martyred anguish will never resolve it.
Wait.
When you think that you’ve lost your true soulmate,
Wait.

It’s a simple truth, despite what you feel.
Time hastens the better for you to heal.
Wait.
Love will come again, even if it’s late.
Wait.

Trust simplicity, don’t listen to pain.
If you loved once you can be loved again.
Wait.
Make your self ready to welcome your fate,
And…wait.

There are two kinds of waiting:
Hopeful and hopeless.
Hopelessness is weary angst,
Violent eddies of despair.
Nervous pacing while staring
The mind battling the heart.
Hopefulness is jubilant,
Spontaneous leaps of joy.
Nervous tapping of your feet
Ready to meet life head on.
There are two kinds of waiting:
Hopeless and hopeful.  
But neither prevents waiting.

The sunrise was a shadow’s shine,
The birds sung their songs out of tune,
The rooster crowed silent alarm,
As if each day began at noon.

The dew was dried before it formed,
The moonlight never left the sky,
The pre-dawn dreams never took hold,
The darkness never said goodbye.

The bedroom shades were never raised,
The morning haze was ever still,
The alarm clock did its mime act,
The morning’s sunlight brought a chill.

It seems the Earth forgot to turn,
There was no morning to wake to,
Looking back this is how it was,
Before I woke up next to you.

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.

The colors of the flower touched my eyes
like the warmth of summer air touched my skin.  
Like tenderness of your kiss touched my heart,
space between sense and feeling is so thin.

We’ve grown accustomed to this sacred space,
where we don’t notice the weight of the air.
Still, it touches every inch of our self,
a touch so light we act like it’s not there.

The physicality of our senses
is defined by near invisible touch,
of the lights, the colors and fragrances,
they touch like you, but not nearly so much.

A fluttering feather would crush mountains—
no touch is lighter than your fingertips.
Yet no sensation ever had more depth,
than the weightlessness of kissing your lips.

What choice have I?
Presented with my dreams in waking light.
What hope have I?
I could not resist you with all my might.

What choice have I?
When looking at your face makes me crumble?
What hope have I?
In your stare I forget to be humble.

What choice have I?
When the years denied me beauty like this?
What hope have I?
When I’d given up on the perfect kiss?

What choice have I?
You’re fire and light of the brightest star.
What hope have I?
I can’t believe just how gorgeous you are.

What does Love want from me?
Nothing more than just to
Walk through the lilac fields
Aware of the splendor
Of varied purple hues
And breathe in blooming spring.

What does Love want from me?
Nothing more than just to
Listen to words spoken
Aware of their silence
With perfect clarity
Hearing sounds in my heart.

What does Love want from me?
Nothing more than to
Revere what God has made
Devoted to beauty
With full adoration
Seeing a soul’s aura.

What does Love want from me?
Nothing more than to
Live today preciously
Sensing a divine touch
In appreciation
Life is a miracle.

To love is to wonder, “What is wonder?”
To find myself lost in, her eyes of green,
To quake from my heartbeat, strong as thunder,
Dreaming that she loved me, what would it mean?

To love is to wonder, “What is wonder?”
To never unsee, her angelic face,
Utterly helpless, her spell I’m under,
Could I feel her love, held in her embrace?

To love is to wonder, “What is wonder?”
To not have her image, out of my sight,
But not let this dream, tear me asunder,
Dream she’s in love with me, all day and night.

To love is to wonder, “What is wonder?”
To vanish in love, the moment she looked,
A love forever, that never shunned her,
Wonder, O wonder, on her love I’m hooked.

A circle.
Two enclosed in endless togetherness.
A square.
Two aligned and side to side as equals.
A triangle.
Two begun far apart destined to meet.
A rectangle.
Two beside each other through thick and thin.
A rhombus.
Two as equals leaning on each other.
A diamond.
Two joined at the sides in perfect balance.
An oval.
Two turning as one with each the focus.
A trapezoid.
Two in parallel until they converge.
Amorphous.
Two can be as unique as love makes them.

Scribbled notes, a word, here and there,
thoughts jotted down before they’re lost,
journals filled with rhymes from thin air,
failed metaphors erased and tossed.

Crumpled paper piled in my head,
stories that should not be written,
poems penned never to be said,
a single word had me smitten.

A phrase I think might become more,
a tiny twinge might be a seed,
a style I’ve never used before,
an allusion that might succeed.

Images that need description,
seeing a fraction of a whole,
each of these an apt depiction
of chaos in a writer’s soul.

What is the best time of day to love you?
When just below the horizon
The sun’s morning light warm the dew?
When just from slumber arisen
My first thought today is of you?

When sunlight bends grass to the east
And arcs to zenith in the sky?
Mid-morning my love is not least
Growing ever higher than high.

When my shadows all disappear
With the sun direct overhead?
At the noon it’s you I revere
More than I could have ever said.

When warmed by the hours of light
Each moment I have loved you more.
The sun recedes into the night
And I love you more than before.

When light of the night are my dreams,
Still loving a love that is real.
I can love you more now it seems,
And wake to recall how I feel.

When is the best time of day to love you?
No time is better than the rest.
I love you no matter the time.
For no time is better than best,
True love is a love too sublime.

The first time you said “I love you,”
I felt my soul floating away.
I’d been waiting for it, it’s true,
But words I never thought you’d say.

Life changed when you said, “I love you.”
I had lost feeling in my heart.
Your words made everything feel new,
So new I don’t know where to start.

You surprised me with “I love you.”
Needing to hear it so badly,
I wasn’t sure just what to do,
Knowing I love you, too, madly.

The moment you said “I love you,”
I felt that Heaven was my own.
My love, the one thing that I knew
Was that I’d love the next unknown.

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.

Quiet, still, afraid and alone,
I cried out, “Who will hold my hand?”
I felt a voice I had not known
Say, “I will.”

Paralyzed and drowning in fear,
I cried out, “Who will hold me close?”
I felt embraced by a voice near
Say, “I will.”

When loneliness felt close to death,
I cried out, “Who will kiss my lips?”
I felt a voice with tender breath
Say, “I will.”

Hopelessly desperate, no control,
I cried out, “Who will be my love?”
I felt a voice that touched my soul
Say, “I will.”

Her voice I felt set my love free,
I cried out, “Who will love you back?”
I felt my voice outside of me
Say, “I will.”

Why even one?
Why should even one die?
Why should even one die from hate?

Life is too short.
Life is too short to die unnaturally.
Life is too short to die unnaturally from hate.

Why doesn’t man learn?
Why doesn’t man learn not to ****?
Why doesn’t man learn not to **** for hate?

What’s God’s purpose?
What’s God’s purpose for making man die?
What’s God’s purpose for making man die from hate?

Why sacrifice?
Why sacrifice six million?
Why sacrifice six million and eleven more?

God made man.
God made man hate.
God made man hate his distance from Him.

God cries out.
God cries out for our response.
God cries out for our response to hate.

God is looking.
God is looking for man.
God is looking for man to return.
God is looking for man to return to Holiness.

The stirring of violent eddies
Collide with and wear down my skin.
You’d perish in those emotions—
You’re safe if I don’t let you in.

The violence that leaves nothing safe,
Outer calm gives the world shelter.
I live torrents of ecstasy—
Much more intense since I felt her.

Storm’s pressure too fierce to control,
Explosion is not if but when.
Violent joy too much to bear—
Now the poet must grab his pen.