Ice cream is sweet and quite the treat
A savory delight I crave at night
At almost any time and any where,
it is worth to desert for this dessert.
Some keep it vanilla while others want a twist.
Sometimes it's good to mix or other wise switch.
Maybe you're *****; can't resist other flavored dishes?

What if you were denied it or could no longer find it?
*** how I'd crave its taste, but at least I'd lose weight.
Other substitutes are lame and aren't quite the same.
Regardless, I would survive and still be able to thrive.

Why is *** so different?

It's a biological need you'll probably say,
so you, can't compare the two.

I disagree completely.

Though we'd all prefer not to be lacking,
it's not as if we'd die for wanting.
Additionally, people have lived ascetically
and have been perfectly fulfilled and happy.
Those kinds of people aren't born that way,
but rather we are conditioned to be *** crazy.
We are made to feel as if
we are measured by who or how many we've been with.
It is validation we truly desire
and to know we always matter.
And though *** is one of life's greatest gifts,
it does not give your life an overarching bliss.

A palindrome isn't a palindrome, intriguingly  
How can that be?
That something isn't itself by definition, literally
...Am I really me?

Death drew lines in sand,
Boarders on grass and divides
Sea and land. But know
The scorpion will strike, snake glides and bites

A predator; not of ill-belonging, but of fear.
Birds float across continents,
Dolphins flow and follow the tide.
Exhaust all energies or you can hide;

Forget illusion of deity and rebirth,
Of perfection and redemption.
Let live. Accept and move along,
Move along with your only feet for as long.

The absurd, the faults and the strengths,
Believe no charity nor fate or luck,
Swallow dignity and hate;
Or choke on beliefs soon to break.

What happens now is up to you.
Rise with scarlet sun and high-sky blue
For not even language is absolute; it deviates time.
Grasp words you know, tell me what’s mine.

If a man is only strong and righteous,
  What does that make me?
If a man is productive and protective,
  What does that make me?
If a man is duty and power,
  What does that make me?
If a man is money and ***,
  What does that make me?

What does that make me
  If my gaunt face and bony body grows under hate?
What does that make me
  If I proclaim wrong amongst complicity?
What does that make me
  If I write what you don’t know?
What does that make me
  If I scratch an insecurity to show humility?
What does that make me
  If I am encompassed in new morality?
What does that make me,
  If I realised forever is nothing?
What does that make me,
  If I inherit debt?
What does that make me,
  If I told you between my sheets is authenticity?

I’m forgetting what father foretold
Because what he foretells was from his father,
Who also forgot.

If ancient Gods’ gaze upon me with judgement,
Judge evenly.
Judge not your errors,
Witness your loose fingers carving
Misery one whisper at a time.
Observe male and male actions of
Understanding; where does this burden carry you?

If tyranny is the call of man
The conscious invisibility murdered your perfection.
Call man a beast and watch beasts roam the earth.
To whom do you call in distress?
Darlings gone rogue,
Or was this foretold?
I cannot call upon you; I never have.

Call this a confession of poisoned sin:
In acquaintance, love and kin
I cannot trace your value.
So call onto me, oh merciful monster,
All the injustices of the world for us to fix.
For all we mortals can really do is understand,

Forgive and carry on with the great burden
Of self-destruction and
Inflicted preservation.

Look into this cauldron.
Tell me - what do you see?
I can see hibiscus, salt, vanilla pods and bees.
Let me see what you can see
In this navy cauldron of granite, balancing
On the remains of a dead tree.
It boils and it kills and it nurtures
And it can even grow flowers
From beginning until the end; if you
Do not disturb its condition.

I can tell you most things can survive anywhere
If you let it adapt and provide tender patience.
Say yes, look at your gains and give spirit.
Death may be stalking but you tread
Thoughtfully along and give praise
To beauty and every wonder residing in your only mind.
Let freedom flutter and kiss velvet
Lips - delight; let silence surrender
Us in a nation of two where one truth exists:
worth and you.

Look in this cauldron
And tell me what you see!
Because while I see a cauldron of exceptional wonder,

                          

                                 you might see a decay

My hands search the Sun -
Your hands reclaim the Oceans.

My feet flee fear -
Your feet finds freedom.

My eyes pursue intricate; marble sculptures in ruin on the eighth floor
Your eyes a fluttering motion of wonder; belonging to all.

My tongue so wants to serenade your soul to sleep, though I cannot sing very well; so sometimes I try to make words dance for you-
Your tongue! mellifluous, soft eloquence whispered, like the hymn of the wind, and intricate - too fractured in places; ineffable. (I will wait)

Four parts of the body, which
Most people have -
Surrendering self-consciousness of by-standing witnesses,
I am waiting for these four parts of you
To teach, tender and passionate.

Being is not singular, nor hateful in permanence,
Much to the dismay of popular press -
It is not only a face with some red patches,
A chipped tooth or non-proportional nose.

It is not past misgivings, even if you have repented when they were cruel.
It is not false pretensions, for we see the sadness in your bones.
It is not even wealth, the fabric wrapped around your ribs
or hips.
It is not ecstasy and it is not sorrow and it is not black despair.
Serendipity

Humility taught through serendipity - sly salvaging of strength.  
Glorious gains, grateful for hindsight now placing a delicate kiss on the forehead of foresight.
And doesn't this help us to repair?

I know we are only mortals.
And you know now I am waiting for you, fellow being.

Weathered eyes
Watching I
Wondering why
Stupefied.
Either the tale is
Wrong
Or, surely! not yet another
Lie?
‘Here within the story lies’
I heard you whisper;
And I just thought you meant
‘You made your bed’
(did i steal your whispers?)
So let’s not deny
The bed,
Another tale yet to be said -
Because another fable
Makes me feel unable
To know knowledge.
Then again.
Then again, Maybe it was never meant for
One.
One plus one isn’t always an equation;
Just separate entities
Together again, are you now an
Enemy?