Speak to me
of your knowledge,
with your parted lips so lovely,
whispering my name,
such soothing thoughts,
holding me
close to your *****,
I’m entranced,
engulfed by your inner-flame,
a romantic at heart,
I’m starting
to fade into your wisdom,
blindly.

Do I invoke
your deepest inhibitions,
the things you cling to
hiding.

I am so happy
to accommodate
your sweet-soul,
your succulent-being,
inside and out,
spew soothing words
to your heart's content.

I know you are Heaven-sent,
but  every now and then,
I just want to write,
let me vent,
it will be alright.

The stillness of the silent night
was broken,
angry rants I heard
above the sparks crackling
from the brick-chimneys
down my street.

Strong-whiskey flowed
in my neighbors house,
the home of four
beautiful children,
ages five to eleven.

And for a brief-moment
I felt a happy thought,
thinking things would be alright,
feel a bit like Heaven,
'cause Santa was coming soon,
to soothe them
for at least one day in Hell.

I flow into you darling,
like a tidal wave,
I’m out-of-control,
steaming downhill
locomotive-style!

O your gentleness,
your sweet sweet tenderness!
It makes me,
it makes me
feel soooo emotive,
I’m on fire!

My fingers imagine you
dipped in creamy-chocolate,
pounding keys,
sending you kisses,
tasting your delights,
mmmmmm, soooo dreamy!

Our heart’s are in the right place,
but it feels like
we’re in the wrong time.

I need to buy myself a Harley,
run free, roll west,
toward the setting sun.

Frozen-tundra
bitterness seeps deep,
breaking brittle-bones,
as tasty-spittle forms
at the corners,
slithering down
like wet snakes,
eager to inject venom,
with no cure
'till the summer thaw,
you kissing me.

Cool winds whispering
names of lovers,
eons,
generations lost.

And we,
we cry,
snuffing such
sweet memories,
those swirling leaves
dropping with
each passing season.

A little older,
wanting boldness,
yet grasping
to nativity,
wishing things
could be different,
find better reasons
to love you more
than loneliness.

The moon glared above,
exposed solid ice
beneath headlamp-glow.

Winds whipped across the wall,
freezing warm breath-vapor
onto my stinging-face.

Chinks of my axe echoed
against the moraine,
crampons etched
my signature behind.

Slowly I moved up
into the pitch-void,
toward the twinkling stars.

Tethered
to my kindred-spirits,
together we found truth
on the summit-push.

Do you hear it now,
the buzzing in your head,
the continual drip,
the hum of traffic,
the notes of songbirds
carried by the wind,
the ticking of the wall clock,
the silence of being alone?