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She said, turn out the lights,
I look so much better in the dark.
I said, love is an artist; I like what I see,
And  lit the candle beside her bed.

She said the night and shadows retouch my flaws,
Blend tight curves with round intrigue,
I said, the sexiest bits of you are all unseen,
Now smile and let me love all of you.

In ode to all who succumb
through wayward passages
lined of scribble notes
dripping ink’s savagery,
staining cursive patterns
in Sylvia-like depressions

Jarred bells ring
down lost tunnels
around each dark corner…clang
from steeples we chase
and beds we lie
draped in sadness
and shapes of
poetic happenstance

Tear drop vinaigrette
spiced of leftover lifetimes
drizzled on leafy desperation
bids a tired farewell
before time collects
*the deserved rewards

The wind this night
wafts in solitary melodies
through restless willow
branches weeping
in lilting violin strings
and raindrop piccolos
flowing in an off key
lullaby echoing in the
chambers of my
*lonely heart
Missing you

Life becomes a golden meadow
basking neath a warming sun,
amidst butterflies and dandelion seeds
floating silently upon a
wafting breeze whispering
through a mountain valley
tucked away among rose gardens
and gingerbread wishing wells,
gleaning in bent knee proposals
and sunflower smiles reflecting
sapphire sky promises,
bathed in every beauty
the eye could ever behold,
*when you share it with me
Good morning beautiful

I wish falling in love
was as easy as writing a poem...
what the hell are you saying Aztec?!
Poetry ain’t easy.
It’s messy,
it interrupts your sleep with word dreams;
it runs away when you get close;
every time you think you’ve
found the right words.
Poetry ain’t ******* easy!

Yeah, true
but when you do find the words
they fill the pages
with lilacs
and wild blueberries
and strawberry cream truffles;
they dance with the shadows
within you
and caress your lips with
butterfly whispers
when you read,
then re-read...

But love,
it’s fleeting illusion,
even if whimsical,
and leaves your heart
in shambled pieces,
when it isn’t returned!

If you are honest,
a poem will always be with you.
Even if it ain’t ******* easy

Aztec Warrior 8.2.15
looking for the words
Foolish Aztec.
Why would she
fall in love with you?

Aztec Warrior 8.2.15

South of Houston,
an ethnic divide
that turned into yuppiedom
and new hipsters,
but not the Beat kind.

I miss those snaps,
the Nueyorican taps
of bullet fast words
steppin’ into the streets
with wild eyes beats
and the howling rage
at hypocracy.

Now all you find
is dead eyed
zombied out,
but starbucks energized
and freaky fellows,
all into themselves
as though they
knew something
more than the chase for
money and ***.

And they say this
is the American Dream;
follow the greed
as humanity burns
to pay for these pleasures.

SoHo, Village groupies
who long ago
gave up their tongues
and their eyes...

Aztec Warrior 8.2.15
WHOA,  a titled poem
 Aug 2015 poetessa diabolica
 Aug 2015 poetessa diabolica
Defeat isn't a word
I care to hold in my
vocab, but alas,
here it is while I
contemplate what's
become of me.

My time runs short
and my patience stretch
thin to a wasted summer
of work and depression
while I envy those abroad
or soaking in the sun, while
I sulked in a desk chair
that I kept luke-warm until
someone else came to claim
their rightful throne.
It's incredibly trusting.
In a way, fearless.

Sometimes to the point of being impulsive.

The test to humanity as a whole is not to take advantage of such an attribute.

Folks may be naive but stepping on them for it is arrogant, ignorant and selfish.

Perhaps the lesson to be learned when naivety is a factor is acknowledging that more is to be gained for a society as a whole when its members spread the wealth and teach one another with compassion and patience when some know more than others.
being an *** to someone because "it'll toughen them up for when the next guy tries to ***** with them" is a self perpetuating farce. Developed by the egos of self important goons.
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