Styles 12: Poems

Styles 12 May 2017

Razor blades stuck
in the back
of your throat
peeling through
long moonlight letters
written by an angel
in sacred dreams
capture the essence
of why silence pries
up iron covers
to penned in tears
you kept safe for God.

I Stood On The Shore

Styles 12 May 2017

I Stood On The Shore

I stood on the shore. A great ocean called out to me. At first the fear gripped me. But then I decided to Sprint towards it. **** it, I thought. It's too beautiful not to swim out there.

I got lost in the waves, body surfing for years, lost in the roar and crash of it all. But as time passed something else beckoned me. I wanted to go past the waves to see what else was out there but I couldn't make it past the tremendous breakers.

I waited. I almost drowned. Pulled and dragged by rip tides, I was tossed around like a wounded puppy, I suffered and failed time and time again until one day the waves turned to glass and I made a break for it. I swam out there, headed for mystery and depth, I was tired but I kept at it.

The burning curiosity driving me.

What lies beyond the struggle?

When I went far enough
Way Way out
Hitting all the silence where words seemed unable to follow.

Submerged there, almost helpless in great depths I began to listen.

A great connection began to build.

It was there in the quaking waters of my heart I saw myself sparkling in every drop of water. Every single heart was connected too. No greater, no less than any other drop.

I realized I had to swim back to help the other shore dwellers realize this, only hoping they'd believe me. It was a grand idea, after all to believe in when one was raised in hell that was over run by vicious wolves teaching that hatred was strength, and love was weak. But I had to try even if only one person believed it.

It Stirs Within

Styles 12 May 2017

It Stirs Within

It stirs within

barely a leaf scrape
swimming asphalt street
where first glimpse
skipped away free.

It stirs within
begs with Alcatraz prayers
for release.

It sits
tiger crouched
flexing claws
waiting to savage you
with stripes.

It talks with no lips
plants trees
using wind

it builds up

merging puddles
into lakes

owl dashing
water ripples
on the surface

its wing touches
you in perfect glide

mind hysteria
running mazes
in search for longing words
that leaves your tongue hanging in moonlight ivy

vibrant pieces of beer bottles
glittering in your eye sweep
struggling to speak full light.

I have roots inside
escaping ink

help me to explain
my knees bleed
your Throne.

Eyes too bright to stare into
My shield stands no chance
to block YOU.

It rises within
a cascade mountain range
where a hidden trail is waiting.

It listens to your heart
shapes fortune by intention

It responds to good will

brushes forest
with no fingers

It calls down
an echo
that shatters illusion

that you are all alone.

Jim's Suitcase

Styles 12 Dec 2017

Jim's Suitcase

I put your words in locked suitcase,

a misplaced key
playing hide and seek with me,

it's not over at all,

just in case you underestimate
me with a undermine way,

mercy kidnapped
held for sacrifice
at Bohemian Grove.

Old clever owl,
I found your weakness at last.

I am visible now
to the master

or rather

I AM AWARE of HIM.

His words crafting
me in train stations,

write me a book
on the art of going astray,

and

coming back

prodigal son times 10

keys given
back by You.

Here I stand,

Autumn liquid
flowering my frosted eyes

The digested suitcase swimming
with Jim's suitcase,

after the story

burns us back to absolute redemption.

Empire Of The Sun
"You are a tired boy Jim."

Job Is Back

Styles 12 Aug 2017

Job Is Back

Job is back *****
I saw him on stage
singing like a wild man,

destruction's wings

flew out of his
broken home throat
like a village of spears
impaling faith,

stop to listen
wilderness has a voice
deeper than moonlight reach

strength has an outlet now
listen, listen, stop it all and
******* listen to it shatter
devil cage.

Job is back *******
and his army of gypsies
have gone black blood
warrior hanging upside down

on a skyscraper about to rise!!

one hand
gripping the Sword of Truth
eyes gone clear from talking with God.

I heard him wail,
back up against the wall
ready to thrown down
a hidden suprise.

Everyone who saw him
leap up
got out of his way.

Job is back
His ****** hand
holding the devil's head.

I saw him cross the street
His spears taken out,
Faith was all he could see.

Just Before Sunset

Styles 12 Aug 2017

Just Before Sunset

Taking time to paint the pondering
leaves like you did just before sunset when the silent eyes of knowing relaxed on a slice of shady lawn and your persevering love burning across the street from heaven shimmered the entire galaxy
just before night opened up her billion starry eyes to hold us with
as we felt the brush strokes sliding across the nameless space that tingles with phantom fingers somewhere inside a corner of sacredness-

I have reserved just for you.

Lace Wings

Styles 12 May 2017

Lace Wings

Dead man's head on the wheel
horn blasting for siren's to come

a thought

torn loose by zephyr
travels free

past every Totaliterian sign.

sweet invisible thought

naked
burning

with a mad rush
to explore
what leaves feel
scraping magically down anywhere

a thought untouched by minds
floating through mist
cascading down steep rock,

barefooted boy dreaming for lace wings
along forest edge

a thought
free from panic

free from all addiction

free from all constrictions,
pride
prejudices
and
hatred.

A thought free to roam wild
to feel anything

to leap with fiery eyed squirrels
hopping
limb from limb
better than master ninjas

free to bounce off danger:

objective
loose
skittering across galaxies to reach a radiance
lovelier
than Spring Sunshine
dancing
with vibrant meadow.

petals lean in south bound
gentle on a breeze
begging for a kiss
from a bumble bee

drink my nectar
please never leave
buzz off

fly
fly

but please
return back to me

no more questions of existence
why this
why that

just free
to be anywhere
like God

burning Magnificent
with Red Maples

free from the chain of mad love desire
pulling dead weight battalions through
the Western ghostly sky
haunted by savagely slain spirits
prowling black forests

once
filled
with gun blasts and blood rivers
crazy as human thoughts that made it.

Medieval Man dilapitated and cruel
Medieval Man desperate as a ghoul
searching for the next war-****.

I know a place beyond the cold Oregon
dripping rain night

safe from the pensive lonely stares
safe from ****** screams
and
mad house Corporations
digesting people into profits,

safe from the alleyway suicides
and
the helpless kidnapped innocence
found in a ditch
near the cold cold tracks
hiding in shadows lurks the ever eluding lunatic
running rampant
all over the world

I know a place beyond the lush green longing
behind
red bursting Magnificent Maple burning
always there longing through my shadow trampled heart
behind buffalo
stampedes
roaring unstoppable
in
the
heat
of her sweet sweet kiss,

behind the songs of silky voice skating through the treasured vistas of memory
so sweet
it flashes suddenly alive
out of sheathe
forever to shine:
BEAUTY'S KNIFE
slicing in your heart
like summer stars dancing in nights
when you snuck away
to melt in life:

barefooted boy running and dreaming for lace wings
behind a captive verse skipping on glassy lakes that pace
a heavy mind
weighed down by decimated loss
of heart and friends.

Long blistered miles add up
on tired cracked bleeding feet.

A cry for HOME is felt in every aching bone,
an invisible lasso pulls you in
but you can't get you out
tattered feelings
lay splattered in the moon reflective puddles of wintry night walks
every Fall leaf absorbing the shine of both worlds
half a sentence away from a lapse
into cold pools of Truth
Once again I know a place that I cannot see
but I know is There
like a brilliant thought you reached
on a summit of illimitable hopes and blinding dreams.

A place beyond sad drenched streets
where hopes and flesh do not starve or freeze.
I know a place I cannot see
but feel is there
some Magnificent friendly Hand reaching to be known
reaching to reach out to me, to us, to let us know
it's Here, It Cares.
I know a place I cannot see
but feel is there
It whispers to me at night
like a Father in my ear
embraces me on a warm Island
floating floating flowing floating
out at sea
lazy waves stroll in soft as eyelashes
to touch and tickle
what I cannot see
impossible whispers turn to invincible songs
I never remember
in naked form
if only You could linger longer next to me
and
SING ..........
these soft waves licking sand across my tattered
hostage dreams.
roll back in
and
take me out
please,
to your singing Magnificent Sea.....
Can I toboggan slide down your cool track of Tolerance
to feel the patience of Unconditional love and peace?
Can I cross star trestle river strikes
where sweet flows course down God's infinite Heart
burning brighter than even these Magnificent Red Maple Leaves?
Can I be invented as Freedom's thought but shaped the size and color of a red maple leaf
That people know are there but cannot see?

Can I float across the galaxy like this just YOU and ME?

Free to express anything
Free to shine twice in the summer twinkle of a child's eyes
who just one something of importance
or
is
reunited with her Mother and Father.

Free to inspire the genius of a tortured artist who overcomes his doubt
with that delicate, special touch that changes lives for centuries to come
Free to be that Voice singing so pure
auditorium eyes are filled with salty tears
making people think of their Mother
and her Garden
and
how bright it was to walk through there.

Free to be a song remembered loved and cherished running
through the world faster than Chariots Of Fire,
Free to be a speech so strong it gets shot down but comes back
forever as Legend for the courageous heroic Truth
It touched upon in a dangerous time
filled with oven baked murders and absolute Terror.
Free to be the invisible thread of love
star-lit and still flowing through incredible
vast distances
half a sentence away from a perfected masterpiece
that will not get recognized or seen or heard until
long later.
Free to be the Light-House of human spirit
and to never kneel or yield
to reins of Totaliterian regimes.
Free to be a smile blooming beneath
soft maple magic.

Somewhere out there
beyond their drab dark talk
plays the wild music he is seeking,
Somewhere out there, in here, a vast beautiful creature awaits to saturate his soul
half a sentence away from vanishing
I could melt away from every burden to find YOU once again.
Once again I know a place I cannot see
but know is there beyond the desolation
of insane deeds
there is a quiet master singing through the trees
trying to help us see
We are Free
We are Free
to be
the miracles of our thoughts and dreams
please please
do not turn away
but take a leap of faith
rise rise
rise through Me
to be
everything
and more
than what
the eye can see
please take this limited sight from me
and
show me what I know is there but cannot see
barefooted boy dreaming for lace wings
along forest edge
reach back in to me, seize me please
all is restless now
all is restless now
my silent voice
a longing thought
floating naked and panic free
half a sentence away from lace wings
vanishing to the fiery Maple of your sweet
silky dreams...........

Last Dime

Styles 12 May 2017

Last Dime

I will spend my last dime on you my friend as we sit side by side eating lobster on the shoreline plucking out golden coins from mid afternoon tides, our voices rising and falling into laughter to silence.

You will have a certain shine in your eyes I will recognize from a soft spoken pocket adored in the Sun.

I will swim inside it when we depart for years remembering what your soul said without any words.

I will comb through humility gently as if your friendship is baby hair.

My internal eyes knowing who you are, reflecting on everything we both have been through.

I will spill dimes from my hands to watch them roll across black asphalt and think of your one thousand smiles glinting in rolling silver.

I will dance with your ghost in my room listening to candlelight music
as Mountain wind screams through my open window bringing me the scented garden of your memories.

I will drive down moonlight hallways alone in a forest as the violet ghost of your light reassures every tree how much they are treasured.

I will speak your name.
A whisper of music in my clear mind and count the seconds your eyes cannon blast back into mine.

Launch

Styles 12 Feb 2018

Launch

Reductions in visibility
snow clawing at your eyes

iceburn memory

we moan in blizzards,
whisper to desert moons

mahogany lips
  turning us  irate.

Mesmerize,

blast,

  invigorate broken cores

****** doubt

invert its position

invoke luminescent lexicon

scrawled out boldly

in       juggernaut  gales

from the interior palace

  of your plush,

introverted launch.

Ledge

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Ledge

When I was 12,
I remember staring down from a hundred foot ledge.

I stood right at the edge for 3 hours looking down.

Filled with things I couldn't speak of all I could think about was jumping.

I don't know why I didn't.

Everything black burned inside
like the devil stormed your castle and killed everyone
but left you alive to suffer.

Now I understand.

There is a conspiracy against the light.

We must hold on with everything we got.

We are the ones,
spirit will use to help heal the darkness.

There is more going on than meets the eye.

Use your light.

Don't jump.

I believe in you.
We have legions of angels on our side.

Ask them for help.
They will come.
Use your heart.
Heaven lives inside it.

Let's Drink Rumi Wine and Toss our Stars into Sea

Styles 12 Nov 2018

Let's Drink Rumi Wine and Toss our Stars into Sea

Single for seven years
I decided to take the Sun on a date

dynamite verse slid out of my back pocket
even roaring breakers stopped to listen

seagulls approached
slow paced,
small child-like eyes

eager to fly through
a brand new moon

steam rolling lavender
mending another broken side of light

after machine gun Kelly storms
left our town upside down.

I left hidden pools
under your magnetic medallion

one closer look
made sea and river whisper together

under countless nights
when sand begged for her footprints

like a student
whose master was murdered.

Imagine Khan leaving your village in
tatters, pick up your pen,
dedicate every page to Light.

Wine and roses falling graceful
in a place we cannot imagine.

Hard to believe we all came from there
after all this madness stormed our souls
our desire drinking naked from
invisible fountains.

"Come to Me all who have heavily laboured and I will give you rest."

Words pulling our treasures out from
the chest, teach me again,
beyond price jewels dripping from
a unfathomable fall.

Looking back unclouded
tasting strength in her eyes

made his pages come alive
a hidden cave storing our clipped wings

left our sentences flowing
secretly, pageless, nomadic beings

never once human
tossing stars into a battered sea.

Let's Drink Rumi Wine
dash out into tides

and read seraphim masters
reclaiming pieces of shotgun
splattered wings.

I could watch your words
revive an entire ocean
your phantom body walking on
glassy dazzled waters.

Robes of uncountable stars
falling through broken mirrors
healing darkness and fixing cracks.

One look staring back at us from all
things,

her lullaby sand full of brand new moons,

a left over bonfire smouldering in her
morning masterpiece.

Tell me again what you said last night
my memory is wiped out
tides stole our evidence

during high tide.

I have always had extreme difficulty
trying to capture the perfect night

and your spiral shell of echoes
holds the mathematical equation
for all living things.

Can you please come back down again
so I can pen every word?

You've caught more than my attention
but these tides keep on erasing the prints she left when dreams flew into our
reality and carried us away.

Everything is different now
after I felt the Sun kiss me.

Give me the strength to describe it before I head back out into wilderness.

Looking at you now

Styles 12 Aug 2017

Looking at you now

Looking at you now.

Chopped up, a broken string riding gutters, my wordless love ransacking stores, full loaves of compassion stuffed in silent mouth.

Looking at you now

from viewpoint of moon
a full circle, blue gem whirling in space, captivated wishes in skin crying up, hands splayed out.

Looking for invisible door. Inside.

Looking at you now
a well where tears go
seeing you like this
a deep pool that couldn't rise.

Your child voice.
Your old man eyes, lost, helpless.
Barely able to get up.

You went through so much.
My God. Why does I love you not sing properly when it's stupidly spoken.

Looking at you now dad,
I still think of you as strong.

Looking On

Styles 12 Oct 2017

Looking On

Crisp as paper
  waiting for words

an idea
  browsing wind

caught up
  in a draft

sizzling distance

every street
  falling variations of fire

tiny eyes
  looking on

transfixed,
motivated for floating

looking on
wordless fascination

as paper crumbles
   and idea bleeds out

gone

  like a morning whisper
   painted by a master

Lucid and Sincere

Styles 12 Mar 2019

Lucid and Sincere

The world is melting all around me
relax
sip deep breaths of air
taste ice

indifference

branches shaking
an early morning wake up call
new courage flares up
flickers like ****** smiles

new growth promise
Conifers nicked
deep gouged scars
carved from distant blades

still standing Captain Strong
like protective Kings
crowned by age

my hand runs over them
amazed
dripping on me
from high above

glittery cold drops
not one dime I could offer it
to show appreciation

gratitude
webs of luminescent silk
threading distance or aches

what can I offer you
my burning hands

deep prayers pounding at mysteries door
new liquid light
gushing from chambers unspoken?

circling your massive trunk
my invsible halo
lucid and sincere

my own melting glacier
full of drips
my tangled tongue
cannot unwrap

some distant hawk screech
burning with river cry

I will not forget
every scar and name is mine.

Marble Angel

Styles 12 May 2017

Marble Angel

She waits in stone for you,
hears you chipping and cursing,
knows how your introverted eyes drip weather and war.

She tingles in anticipation, cheering you on inside her captive prison waiting for your hands to find her.

She is smiling at your frustrations, lending out silent encouragement for your chisel determined hands, flamingo inflamed with sunset; beckoning you from another place, your steel will to understand how magic flows between you and her.

Intrigue drives a midnight blue Mustang leaping across canyon gaps that only tease with rain scented whisper.

Her voice is registered as proof she exists.

Any trace of violence only distances your chances on ever finding her golden form.

The jet black stone taunts you
it bleeds Egyptian sand from Cleopatra's hair, glitters in moon
like violet creatures who beg to be seen and appreciated by a Prince who wears the desert in his eyes and carries April orchards in his heart.

A Ripe golden harvester
who has the key but doesn't quite understand where the doors located at.

May be it's beneath a sky island oasis whose realm is always watching?

Maybe your hard breathing body is a open receiver for love's undeniable signal.

Your breath brings her closer.
Strung out heart beats sound to her a moving symphony.

Your helplessness and hopes
string a chord she's never known but is engaged by your digging ache to find her.

She drinks in the callous sweat of May, hears the voiceless, muffled cry struggling in strait jackets ******* in your heart.

She feels for the spotted leopard who left footprints in your heart glade, she wants to tame claws and paint your visions with the inspiration that's killing you softly as you try to unlock a door you can't see but only feel.

You may feel a slight brush on your fingers as you hang defeated in the disaster zone of prosecution's room wondering if perfect Hawaiian breezes will include your name in its sweep.

She may zap your will back to life with her warm bon fire hands around your ankles as she tries to pull you back from a dark ledge.

Her ladder defying time and space. Every rung of light is a hidden dimension she hides in.

Your heart quickens in the fierce fiery flash of attainment.

Your mind clicks off.
All focus becomes a rain fall river taking over roads.

You become flow.
Dance through anything.
Move 5 ton steel with thought.
Levitate despair over the candle of her sky.

Marble dust litters your arms.
Blood and obsession throb in the pulse of her creation.

You stare at her, gawking like a child at a unicorn flying over a double rainbow.

Her June smile becomes Hercules and lifts the continental divide from off your shoulders, drop the chisel, let it damage maple floor, who cares?

Here she is. alive and well.

The Marble Angel who speaks and knows your tears to find her were always cobblestones leading to her Palace.

Marilyn Monroe

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Marilyn Monroe

More than a *** symbol
You race the World's imagination
as You
hang on over a million walls
in bars
offices
bedrooms,

You name it
You made it.

Big talk of the World.

Fame's comet hurled You,
bright fire through Night Sky

crashed YOU
on a Heart shaped bed
body full of drugs,
by whose hand?

Yours or them?

Gangsters, celebrities, and politicians passed thru your swinging door,
wire taps, satin sheets and hidden traps,
covering secrets of an Empire.

Affairs in high places may have been your downfall.

If your tasty lips could speak what secrets would You share?

I imagine you
near a cliff
ribbons of sunlight
flood down between fir branches
a river of Gold
splashes your hair
golden-red flashes blind me
nobody is safe from dropping dead
in the natural light of your splendid beauty.

If I could infiltrate your silence
what would it feel like
would I be entangled in silky visions?

I want to hear your secret language written behind voluptuous lips.

What would They say?

A book of poems that rampage the soul?

Tell me your story
lose me in obsession.

Lost in a river of Gold
flowing under Casino's secret tunnels,
for a trace of truth behind the mystery of your life and death.

Worshipped by men, a hero for women.

Immortalized by posters and movies
there's something contagious in your personality that attracts Everyone to YOU.

Soft seduction in star-light
You dance with violet moon beams at your feet.

Lift the sad stone dropped in your heart,
pull it out crying from bottom-less depths.

Rampage me with your song
meet me there
below fir branches,

ribbons of moonlight
crashing kisses on your angelic face
heated lips travel down your neck
roses rise from your hair.

Tell me your favorite flower?
I'll plant them in your heart.

I want to rip down cliches about you
from Judgmental circles,
lift all 118 pounds of You against the wall,
explore the soft valley along your back with determined lips and hands,
write ten thousand love poems,
attach them to a tumbleweed
and send it zipping across Death Valley's floor.

If anybody finds them
they'll sit and cry alone for a week straight with a gun to their temple.

I want to watch conifers take graceful bows in strong Coastal winds,
let's drop off maple leaves and sad stones from high cliffs and make a wish:

We'll eat at Romanoffs, your favorite restaurant,
sip on Dom Perignon 1953 to celebrate,
hang out with Charlie Chaplin.

Hear your laugh shatter a million walls.

More than an object of ***
I want to know YOU intimately
without the make-up,
plant blue delphiniums in your dreams,

give You back your soul,
throw back the 50 cents they paid for it in Hollywood's star dazzled face,
keep the thousands for the kisses,

flip them the bird,
spray them with rounds from a Tommy Gun,
peel out in a silvery Porsche Spyder
head for the hills,
music cranked,
play it Loud for all the misplaced wild child's of the World.

Sea-wind blowing back your hair
will drive every man insane
enough to die for
enough to **** You for
enough to pull a Romeo and Juliet
over a cliff,

James Dean waiting in Heaven to greet us with a sly knife smile and a beer,
a sea of
blue delphiniums in your last glance
one last song to rampage our souls.

If your dresser could speak it would tell me Everything,
before we crash our blood into rocks
one last time to kiss the haunted sun
and tell them All
to ******* **** IT!!!

Yes, I too became haunted by her.

Master Of Wind

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Master Of Wind

Love calls me out of my tortoise shell
Begins to sing louder
My slaughtered bridge is resurrected.

I walk across, stunned like a new man coming back to Eden.

Love calls me out like a train storming through at 2 a.m.
Runs me over like a penny on its track, sleep is still another world away.

My blurry eyes sting the page
everything I held back draws itself like a hidden blade and spills my red river travesty.

Hold on to me.

I saw myself become something else sliding in the corner of a child's closet.

Do not run from me now that I'm getting closer to your secrets.

Every moment in life is a gift.

Every dark pull from the dark side a chance to appreciate your light that much more.

I have been levitated from love's track. My heart becomes a countryside.

Any heart not living here makes us incomplete and mission bound with inner ancient  heat.

Blazes so intense you'd think we wouldn't survive, so tell me now how do we even live?

Once I was loud and obnoxious, angry at this and that, not until you came back to me, I was a mad man screaming at himself in a mirror I thought was real.

You came through and silenced me and said, "But I never even left."

My humility carrying a stranger's heavy luggage.

Your light dancing brighter in my chest spilling your glory across my scars.

My tears were a row of icicles
painted new in a violet storm of You.

I knew nothing could be the same again.

Every hurt I experience now I can never hate again.

Every person who does me wrong I will instantly forgive.

Why?

Because they are You, forgetting  themselves on purpose.

Your plan for reunion will be different from what anyone can imagine, still You will always try to reach them on a daily basis, ever vigilant like a Love Knight who most will turn against.

I Follow ghost mist through the twilight woods of your song.

When I arrive at your clearing  house the mist is gone but I cannot tell anyone of what I saw, not because it's a secret but because my words fall short on the threshold of your dreams made manifest.

Heart connection from You to me is a hidden pipeline that exists between us and Everyone else.

This will twist your mind and make it break.

Do not over think it.

It will only lead to constant confusion.

I felt You outside my window but when I looked I still could not see You.

This will always break my heart until my childhood dream is granted.

You may not know what it's like to feel this pressure but I'm not sure You know my angle and if You do, please forgive my ignorance I sometimes forget Your spirit lives everywhere.

I knew this as a child as sure as a fish knows how to breathe underwater.

There is some hidden plan of magic at work here and I can see it in every piece of creation You so cleverly mastered.

Speak to me again.
Your whispers are like welcomed daggers
and your presence
is the oasis in my desert.

I have traveled through dark places and my feet are heavy houses dragging through burning sand.

Your waters are always welcomed.

Let my heart become your staff.

Master of winds
It is this humbled letter
To whom I address.

Singer of truth
Light of all heavens
Lifting off my lid

My gift to you does not come packaged but rather a swollen river of an angels sweet tears running when sleepers are dreaming forgetting they're  You.

Master of winds
I want You to know that even if fear is still present
I still hold you
My dear precious lifeline
Fragile as an eggshell rocking
in my heart
if You break at any moment and splatter your yolk filled heaven down my lonely corner You will still cover my cages with hope.

Master of winds
Angel of magic
I am pressed tight to your voice as if I was a leaf waking up dark sleepers sliding across their dreamy face.

Waker of men
Shaker of trees
Shed down your holy red colors
And land in my hand
one more time so the unbelievers will know You exist.

I am aware of grim dark places
that feed off innocence like the shadow man who steals children and offers them up as sacrifices to the worst of all evils.

Everyone who lives here will be touched by its shade and crunched by its branch.

Come to us soon

Master of winds
Lover of truth
Designer of worlds

Let your love become a net
and catch us all.

Master of love
Your glorious reach
Knows no bounds.

When I went to bed your warmth and grace flew in my chest, Cardinal dressed but still invisible.

When I awoke your song burned steady lava beds in my deep wounded cell of complete abandonment. I rose no longer a prisoner.

A flight of leaves scraping through a dark hallway mind
letting me see new colors.

Love calls me out of my black cave prison I stumble out to see the world like I did when I was a child.

This time I know how to guard You, this sword You've given to me is a holy weapon, anything evil I strike at will vanish.

Master of winds
  Holder of love

Singer of truth
Light of all heavens
Lifting off my lid

Dance and weave your magic.

Melting

Styles 12 Sep 2017

Melting

Raw in the wound
black crows circling

pink morning clouds
rays of the Sun
gunslinging through them

coarse in the muscles
twisting into complex sailor knots

steel beams falling down in Michael Douglas eyes.

Scorched in the wound
all outlets blocked

pink morning clouds
writing her name

explosions of cry
screeching in flight.

All my dreams
melting air

shackled wings
refuse to stop

all my feathers
stabbing Sun.

Nothing is as it seems.

Mercy

Styles 12 Jul 2017

Mercy

At first glance
skin, eyes, hair.

Terrible sweat patrolling
for a Sun wearing your name.

Face of perpetual reflections-
Nameless one
Illuminating canopy
on a street no one can see.

Help me
float there again
and rest in the great Light
OF I AM.

What is this inferno blaze
taking every petty word?

This hysterical laugh echoing
from hidden attic?

This Soul penetrating every
Dark Night.

Angels of mercy visiting me
as I silently cry in hell.

You are the greatest mystery to this ancient riddle I am trying to solve.

Missing Piece

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Missing Piece

grazing long hours
in a maze

I run

just to chew the fat

from a missing piece

of understanding

that fits

in the

crystal blue room

of your sky.

  she opens the door
  night after night

checking to see if someone is there

arrows rapid fire from her belligerent mouth

they stick to anything male

wears her denial like a crown

but the love of her life killed himself when she was 19

she never told my half brother
how his dad died until high school.

it's complicated

stop asking me ******* questions

I don't have all the answers.

all I know is that moment changed everything

You have no idea

neither do I

why black rain puddles
to drown dreams

or how tentacles slither out
from all the cracks that never heal

impact like a meteor

dents so wide
they'll swallow your whole family

and cruel fire will speak
  from the missing pieces
   of love

to teach you how to forgive
or to become another lunatic
driven by rage.

I have smiled at both your faces and earned my right to graze in the meadows of tears and fire,

after this
only
wisdom
will walk with a limp.

Misted Stars

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Misted Stars

I don't know how
all these stars from God
found a way into my eyes
blurring the clear night;
how you misted me
as your shine
threw embers
into my loneliness
and
the howling wind
moaned my name
as if the entire Kingdom of Heaven
rose up inside
to bury me with feathered grace.

"Listen, if you can stand to.
Union with the Friend means not being who you've been,
being instead silence: A place:
A view
where language is inside seeing.

-Rumi

Moonlight Wind

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Moonlight Wind

I breathe benevolence in wild dust of tumbleweed.

I store a thousand miles of moonlight in my crunched up tangle.

My scented hair holds the essence of night diamond winds.

I gather my life, curl by curl
  twist by twist, rolling through like knotted midnights-

A bruising ball of spike and thorn.

  I will sweep through deserts like a wild thing.

I come out of nephilim scars.

Weep the outcasted country of fallen angels.

Tortured rambler of ghost war roar.

I am torn loose
my thistles flow rapid
   like a giant ball of desert song
     haunting the darkness in
          moonlight wind.

Moon Sermon

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Moon Sermon

Prowling night,
  moon priest
hooking sermons
     to stars,

a yellow crescent lecture
bending light
  in a way
     out of time.

Ditch it all
  to link up to
serenity's  field.

     Pull out
       a dream

attach it on
  this invisible kite

full sail rip
    surrendering to open violet

     sky bloom
        cloud burst

        let go,

find the sermon inside
  listen to it glow.

Moving Pictures

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Moving Pictures

It slips off the rooftop in sheets of powdered sugar, curls and drifts, shoots out at you, touches briefly before spiralling into darkness.

It moves electric, under skin
claiming ownership of your vessel.

It builds up in heaps
lifts the night up
with invisible arms.

Shadows crawl across the pasted walls asking you where the light has gone.

You say, it will be right back.

It digs beneath the iron core of fathers, plays the strings where guards have latched tight all the cabinets.

It wrestles through your dreams
sneaks across cobblestones,
whispers traces of holy songs
you never can remember.

It haunts with mighty winds
spreads its spirit through any mountain.

It sets a thousand ships on fire
and you know that you can't stop it.

Moving Through Heaven

Styles 12 Aug 2017

Moving Through Heaven

black water night
movement of steel

far away all knowing lights
blinking in flowering spaces.

High towers of paranoia
rising in distant siren faces
patrolling
or
burning
for kindness

black water night
moving through heaven

unwanted living room sets
kicked out on streets
sitting torn and ragged
like so many people
searching for love

finding

broken teeth eating away
their neon splashed hearts

with

jack hammering

madness

instead.

Oakland is a crazy place. *******.

Music Of The Sun

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Music Of The Sun

Exploding in skin
this light grows
in crescendo, swelling up
to cascade in auditorium ears,

violen strings cutting the hidden ache making it leak symphonies.

Silent storms breaking cliffs,
sections of you cannonball to water.

Underwater music brings out electric eels to zap and dance.

You slowly sink down
  staring breathless at sun lasers
slicing through sea blue water


You marvel at their
resiliency to reach
the rock bottom depths

where even the darkness dwelling
  creatures hear the music of the sun.

My Friend's Father

Styles 12 Apr 2017

My Friend's Father

I was in 4th grade
when I met A.J.
he had chestnut hair like his father
that swept down to his chin.

He was a golden gloves boxer
with lightning fast fists.

We played tackle football and shot pool together.

At night we dressed like infantry men
and dashed out there
in the bushes and trees
mixed up in serious battle.

A.J. would borrow his dad's combat gear,
flashlights , blankets, etc...

His father was a short, skinny guy
who served in Vietnam

a constant, intense blaze seemed to burrow way down deep to his core.

I knew he had been through something Ginormous over there.

He killed a lot of people that much I knew, but he had also witness friends die and after seeing that
something inside him must have snapped,

a rainbow bridge falling forever into a cataclysmic darkness.

I never got too close to him
a clear intuition always warned me
to keep my distance.

There was a rumbling warning in his volcanic eyes that told me
He never really left the jungle.
Some vital part of himself was still over there.

His screams slashing through his dreams
still riveting his head into the swollen firefights that made demons
crawl inside his lonely foxhole.

I always had great respect and admiration for A.J.'s Father.
I used to hear those bloodcurdling screams at night when I slept over.
I have never heard screams like that since.

My heart would pour out to him in those long washing mind wanders
you get when you're cocooned in ripe silences
and
the heavy texture of the world seems to vanish
and all you have is the lonely ripples of quiet, secret love
washing to your shore banks.

I loved the man you see.
Even when he lost it.
Even when he beat A.J. to a pulp once.
His foxhole eyes intoxicated with whiskey & war & loss.

It was then and there in that horrible moment that I seemed to really see
how war had come and carved him up, left him still a prisoner in his cramped one bedroom apartment.

I saw him still fighting
a deadly riot within himself.
His demon still trolling jungles for the enemy, or his lost friends, or Rainbow bridge.

Whatever it was I still think of him today sometimes
wanting to understand him more.

Maybe it was that damaged, haunted look he always had in those more than troubled
quaking eyes of his that always made me wonder what he had seen and did.

What cruel monsters were still digging through this poor man's soul
when he had seen the world darkly end?

What red line of unforgiveness kept tugging at the corners of his blasted out heart?

I still lie awake at night wondering, hoping he has found peace.

© 2014 Scott Lee

My Love

Styles 12 May 2017

My Love

My love levitates above me,
begins to circle out
  heading to the silent softness
tucked beyond perception.

I have packed you
  with Milky way hopes,
  witnessed the slashing
    of stars make their way

bright against the purplish night.

I have known you to slip out from
the hidden human crevice
to perform secret plays
   with oceanic aches
       surpassing all words

threading impossible rich
   grasslands in a desert
     of a million scornful suns.

I felt you harpoon me
  pulling me back to the immense
  place beyond the curtain
  verifying every hope that kept me crawling for just one taste.

I heard you speak me into shelter
  every promise of your verse
riveted my skylines with the most delicious eclipse I've ever seen.

Your love moved me to another hidden Everest where The Golden Angel sang to me with a voice that bleeds my haunting.

I felt you craft a crystal ship, your freedom set it sail inside me.

Mystery Machine

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Mystery Machine

The mystery machine
inside me knows more than me.

I have felt it do impossible, unnamed things.

Secretive marches streaming in night missions, pulling armies of light through me.

My lips have not uttered it.
My silence cries alone, thinking of it.
I felt the river of God break me, inside, where it all makes sense.

You took my words, crushed them all, left me with this expansion inside where you have obliterated every wound I ever felt.

How do I proceed to the next stage, now that my pollution is gone, and the water holds the sun, rushing through me like a heavenly beam of purity?

All my locomotive prayers shapeshift to liquid on my cheeks.

I will wait for you to March.
My tears quaking in another world.
My understanding reaching for more.

The keys to your door gleaming in the feelings this mystery machine produces as I sway helpless from your beloved wind.

Neon Yellow Petal

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Neon Yellow Petal

Opening in silence to your neon yellow petal,

I found your voice to be the sun beam to every garden.

My blood poured into this moist, fertilized soil.

Scars and burns settled, grew over time to be priceless teachers
in a school for rising angels.

Opening in the space inside me I have carried your cherished color
as it bled its dreams into my skin.

You are change less.

I am the broken circle
  made whole in the forgiveness
  of perfect light.

When your mysterious eyes opened up like a full moon sneaking past a gigantic dark cloud,

every stream of You
  blossomed me

not even the rigid concrete
  could stop the growth
   of our immortal connection.

You are everywhere
  burning for every eye
    to know you.

You spoke and said,
Everyone is my precious family.
Some have just forgotten
their neon yellow petals
all connect to me.

Never To Be Severed

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Never To Be Severed

Never to be severed,
that middle rip I have trouble writing about.

Never to be severed
every nation inside you defeated
unable to see past billowing battle smoke.

Not pushed or shoved down a well but savagely kicked in solar plexus
after only learning how to ride a bike.

**** up ***** water.
Choke on betrayal.
Mom's ****** face calling to you.
Step dad hit her so many times you lost count.

Too young to understand this will be your great lesson.

Packed into someone else's violent
shell, load me into your hollow chamber, fire me, like shots heard around the world.

Martin. Kennedy. Africa. Christ.

Severe me.
Break my heart in a thousand ways.

From now on nothing will be the same.

This will be Love facing the gun.
This will be my God on the cross.
This will be clomping boots terrorizing Purple Mountain Majesty.

No one will know, my child.
No one will know us.
We will never trust.
We will cry for our lost god.

Why has he abandoned us?

We will fold up silence and pack it tight into our suit case.
No one will know.
We shall not speak of it.

We will use mixed metaphors to erase the true origin of our salted wound.

We will fly across troubled waters,
people will smile at us but we won't smile back.

We will eat the shattering palace of paradise and it will taste like the bottomless pit of hell.

We will gnash our teeth over rebellious years, we will cope on poison, on fleeting pleasure, we will learn to write flames over golden arches.

We will close ourselves.
We will store our hollowed house so deep into our bones not even I will be able to find it.

No one must know us.
We will break apart.
We will traverse a haunted world
finding others like us.

We will make friends with the battered face of recognition.

We will eat the betrayed dust of every nation.

Our anger will have no limits.
We will use it to condemn ourselves.
We will practice self mutilation.

We will hide our most precious love in the silence of a pen scribbling away years searching for reason in caved in coal mines,

our interior selves packed tight with 'blacker than black' darkness,

yet we will not stop searching for diamonds.

No.

We will still have hope.
We will still go on.
Bashed in, fermented in rot.
Our throats thirsty for golden ale.

Our eyes still roped in by the whisper and grandeur of sunset,
our hearts full of uncontrollable aching for this moonlight plastered in water, we will still hear John The Baptist's voice screaming in the cell of our bleakest, darkest dungeon.

Have you Not Known?
Have you not Heard?
Has it not been told to you from the beginning?

Even though our foundation is crumbled we will look high and low in the valley for our healing prophet.

Never to be severed,
severed in the break of hallow ground. We will know that violence is not the way even when we want to **** ourselves.

Our ears to the earth
listening for her hidden spring
we will cut our pathway into secret channels.

We will scramble for it.
Restless for a taste of purity.
Our haunted inspiration will leak resin and find twisted flame.

Our desire will grow higher.
Our fire will fan into every capillary.
We will carry hidden, super forest fires in our eyes until we hit the ocean.

We will laugh until our abs are rolling down the hill.

We will make unforgettable friends and we will find comfort in each other.

We will open up slowly.
Taking our time.
Our love vapors will find a way around the darkness.

It will build up, our awareness connected to A Great Hall, every part of our fragmented self will start to seek it.

We will have close encounters with powerful peaceful angels stirring us in our sleep. We will thirst for Home with a thirst so deep the entire galaxy will hear us.

We will realize we were wrong to hate.

We will feel ashamed of our misplaced ways.

We will ask deeper questions.
We will read more prophets.
We will learn to forgive it all.

We will have compassion on ourselves.

Our unworthiness will learn to cry and in our willingness to change:

The Great Spirit will ask for our permission to heal us.

We will say Yes.
We will be cleaned out.
Every ***** action brutally ****** upon us will be wiped away.

We will understand we are bigger.
Every single human being is our brother, sister, mother, father.

We will feel the unlimited love from the Great spirit and we will never be the same.

We will make it our new mission to love.

We will walk lightly now.

Our expanded understanding has made our eyes into vistas, deserts,
rivers, oceans, we will flow, never to be severed, we will seek to heal entire nations.

We are back.
Complete.

In full knowing of who we are, where we came from, resting from want as the Great Spirit has returned to us.

We are all angels.
Even the wretched ones.

Our souls will grow stronger than you can possibly imagine because we were willing to brave the darkness.

New Born Grass

Styles 12 Jul 2017

New Born Grass

She carried Ireland in her skin,
a vast mist of mystery,
hiding away answers
to something profound,
and true.

When she spoke, the tides eased from boom to calm.

When her anger boiled
Thunder clapped the roof.

Someone lived inside her but she never said who.

She always questioned everything,
worked her spells on mountain trails when silence opened up and twilight speaks of only golden things.

I saw her once in a dream.

She whispered Ireland to me.

When I awoke
I reeked of

ocean

mist

and

burning trees.

I saw her smile,

suddenly understanding
the secret to emerald
so rich in the mist
capturing new born grass.

Next Level

Styles 12 May 2017

Next Level

Dying to reach
reaching since I remember

small hands toward grasshopper

in search for something
grander than what words can say.

Bigger than any thought.

A dynamic pulse between flesh and spirit.

Co-creation with a invisible magician.

Something mingling between dreams,

a tumbleweed racing through blue sand searching to speak with your lips.

A feeling wondering how to escape
prison.

Captive sunset waiting to reflect in
  still sea,

your hands reaching for paint but
  the ache of it stops you before
     fingers can clutch it.

Yellow lanes of rays drive beyond
   ordinary confines.

Deep blue heart
indigo soaked with promise
    submerge and reset.

     Rise and float
       weightless thorns
          lifted by pure sea.

  Merging silent

with a invisible brush
   no hands

    IT shows off
      paints your face with sacred
            perfection.

It levels you.

You elevate beyond all peaks.
     Immortality smiles without a
          face.

     Next level is engaged
       awe becomes an everyday river
          including you in it's priceless
             sweep.

All of a sudden you know exactly how to proceed.

Only up from here.

Night's Voice

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Night's Voice

Night strolls in like a stranger
with a book of stars in its cloak,
takes it out,

begins reading in front of the polished sky,
every stone weeps off its tough exterior.

Night's voice paints the color of deep rememberance,
vivid streaks make the canvas
sing, ancient eyes awake,
use the forest to stir the story up.

Night's light takes the white guard passing and explodes it into more.

Pines drip envy.
Windows turn to waterfalls of light.

Halos form,
rainbows dance in circles,
tongues drop, thirsty for more.

Night's rhythm dives into blood.
Cuts the icy edge inside with the sound of wonder.

Heart pools into a vast lake.

Gaze into stillness.

Night's reflection wears your mysterious face.

Descend from above.
Bring the above to below,
and shine calmly to reflect where we come from.

Night Wizard

Styles 12 Oct 2017

Night Wizard

Picturing you older
black beard running down
to knees

ancient forest stalk
vegabound loose

drawing energy from
stone and sky

every scar
went Iron Wall sturdy

nothing to own
except wisdom

all attachments
forgotten

only spirit
flowing adrenaline ******
in long Canyon gazes

where magical mineral
hot springs

collide inside you.

A deep purple sphere
  framed in your lair

notebooks
hiding under granite

night spells of thunder

  tumbling through her green eyes.

Icy white sheets of gust
  traveling far just to remember human love.

Tundra feet
  and
long walks

skating  lonely  white  plane
  when the rope
burned your psyche

attentive as the smell of pine
  to a boy or man

anyone free

enough to dance
  in the golden hallway of
Heaven's Treasure,

when the dream
woke up to you.

No Shield

Styles 12 Apr 2017

No Shield

The fast descent of snow
covered Reno like a legion of white angels

furious flakes gliding and collecting in mass

it was late
around 2 a.m.
or so.

I was stranded like an alien in another world whose ship had crash landed in a strange, hostile city.

I remember turning the corner,
a body was sleeping in the door way.

I felt my heart leap out from its chest as if some wild boar lived in there.

I felt a warm wave of compassion engulf me for this person who could have been anybody. I could see no face. Man or woman I could not tell.

Just a body.

Who are you huddling in unforgiving cracks of a broken down society?

This reflected so much to me in that moment that I stood, half paralysed, gawking at the stranger, wishing I could do something. Being broke I could offer no money otherwise I would have laid down a 20 beneath his back pack.

What a brave soul, daring to sleep out here. -10 below. Just a sleeping bag.

Was it a veteran?

All I know is that he or she was a member of the human race.

No face. No food. No shield to protect him.

I wanted to call someone but I knew nobody here.

How could society so eagerly throw away people as if they are just inconvenient trash?

It spoke a lot about our system. How could anyone trust it?
Not me.
Not ever.

They will only lie, imprison or **** you with no regard for anything humane.
No heart.
Soul-less.

12 days stranded and there were so many homeless people that it felt like a 3rd world country.

Except for the lights beaming from Casinos which 3rd world countries do not have.

My friend just committed suicide two weeks ago. He visited me in my dreams. I could feel him walking next to me.

A 12 year friendship, gone like that. Tears were trapped within me. I could feel them but I couldn't let them spill until I got through this. I willed myself to be only IRON.

Let the softness collect and build. No time to cry.

The heart was like this sleeping body, left exposed and vulnerable in a doorway,
no shield from the way they talk to you, convince you its fair and normal to leave people in snowy streets with nothing.

They'll turn you cynical in a flash, saying that he deserves it but who knows this person's thoughts, the texture of his life spreading over walls that I couldn't see.

I pictured this person like a brother.

He could have been through anything.

He slipped from the top of a dream, landed here in a doorway, snow fall whispering ten million white pages through his beaten life.

His key to love buried and burning beneath 10 feet of snow.

I walked away, ashamed, tired,
trying not to let my heart leak out from my eyes and freeze against my stinging face. It was not easy trying to suppress a sea from spilling.

All I could think about was home.

No shield around my heart as it opened up
to let in every white Angel of love landing there, growing huge with mounds of feelings;

still,

it broke my heart with flakes of falling silence that a pen could never trace.

No Thorns

Styles 12 Apr 2017

No Thorns

Imagine moth wings fluttering inside her eyelids, restless tapping on clear pane knocking to get out.

Imagine dipping down like a blue jay swooping above a blackberry briar.

No thorn could touch you.

Imagine her memories pulling out some vital root displacing her voice on a stage with no Mic.

She sits alone staring at mountains wondering how to close the distance between herself and freedom.

Dying to get out, an inexplicable letter she can't understand written by a stranger living within.

Her dreams bloom lotus petals in a smile she almost remembers.

Something dire in the air turns birdsong electric.

Steady barking drives her stranger to forceful writing.

His hand in her bones cascade her cells over Niagara Falls.

Her thoughts thorn ivy, she pulls misery from the roots and discovers a hidden utopia only the stranger knows how to pen.

Her voice travels in silence driving through hard blizzard highways searching for a Mic.

She can taste his words like frozen fog hanging from clusters of pine.

Her restless moth scatters out of her eyelids knowing where the greater light is located.

Etheric tingling intrigues her flight, she rises higher, every breath a drum beat invoking higher understanding.

Her sense of freedom expands when starlight hits her wings.

Ecstasy swims her veins, the mysterious letter sinking further in.

She can see the stranger scribbling, his face lit up, a remembered smile frees the entire universe, his words produce a funnel web unlocking her voice into rainbow silk elimanating her search for a Mic.

Her silk stretches through eternity.

No thorn can touch her.

No Words

Styles 12 Apr 2017

No Words

Sometimes I have no words to explain anything to anyone especially me.

Sometimes every word disappears
I can see them marching off a suicidal cliff everyone dropping to its death.

Sometimes this world carries a silence so thick the words just scramble away like little kids in a field of rye with nobody to protect them.

There is a place inside beyond the scribbling dilly dally dance of my pen that the heart just gets too tired to try to ride.

No more words sliding through the rye.

I have been defeated in a thick, steep silence

my legs dragging logs in unknown territory.

I have been smashed through walls trying to deem it worthy.

I hung on with less than a thread for a right expression.

My fingers clutching air
my eyes burrowed in
my thoughts scraped clean
my words all dead
but why do I come back here?

I must love this game.

This battle to try and save the heart from dying in the quicksand of a silence so great that only tears would hit the pages if no words were there to build me.

One Golden Smile

Styles 12 Oct 2017

One Golden Smile

Never seen you like this
floating down there

while I hold you up here
a masterpiece of cloud

able to reflect spilling light
how it all goes friendship grateful
or suddenly dark

as the shift in your eyes
brighten when you watch her
walk in,

8 years later

letters written silently at
solitary windows

flash Gordon cursive
taking down page after page

with One Golden Smile.

Pearl Moon Silent

Styles 12 Apr 2017

Pearl Moon Silent

She sits silent
as night collaborates
cursive wind to spoken pines.

Pearl moon silent
she is the main attraction
radiant dream, dark angel lust

thirsting for every eye
  to stare
and burn
for the fortune she hides

as her naked pearl shine
  illuminates forest wonder.

She will glaze the ice
  scurry her light
    in ways
       that trap your tongue

around the rutilant jewelry
you wish you could wear
  leaving night to worship
    her perfect crisp blaze

as your enamored pen
falls into a coma
     too deep
        to speak out.

Her silence is another world
    only imagination understands.

Prying Up Thunderbolts

Styles 12 Aug 2017

Prying Up Thunderbolts

Light licks glass
searching for reflections
finds it smooth to shoot from

she tickles my eyelids
zooms in,

her wings bouncing
off rhododendrons

drinking insight
a thousand eyes of perception

gazing out from my veins
knowing her is nectar

calm like a kitten
purring in my ear

prying up thunderbolts
from my night sky stare
so I can look at them
from a clear distance

instead of being thrown down
by their raging bull charge.

She lifts off- gone
carrying away secrets from a flashing garden.

I curl up
knees to stomach
wishing for the next life
just to hold her.

Rain

Styles 12 Jul 2017

Rain

Posted up in shade
gazing at desert mesa
waiting for my militant van
to be fixed.

Wheels turn, the violent shaking of tears left me clear, a giant spirit of you lifting me from the pit.

The outstretched hand,
a reminder of kindness,
the prayer for rain
came true,

fell like ancient memories
putting out an 80,000 acre fire
from wiping out the rest of me.

Rainbow Edge

Styles 12 May 2017

Rainbow Edge

Know the Sun
walks inside You.

Blue dark galaxy
using light to dance.

She told me,
"We are pieces of the Universe
walking in skin."

Voice like an Autumn breeze
brushing against the pane of clarity.

"Do you question the Mountain?
For it knows how to rise.
Learn from solace."

A voice above, burrowing in.

My wish still dares to evaporate into Spirit to understand ten thousand burning rain drops falling from the moon ache.

Touch my broken stars.
Please, make them flow.

Ocean Child of Song.
Sing me a book of Waves.
Dance on Evening Glass.
Stalk my Rainbow Edge.

There are no walls in Sunset.

Understand my distance is a haunted search for secret shores.

Her perfect glow melted every scar.
Took my falling echoes, threw them away to stream.

Her radiant, pearl hand
breached my cage.

Her love made my spilt glass gleam.

Her Golden strength lifting me up and out.

Night is a million stars beaming from your eyes.

Pick the Ice from injured wings.
Her whispers lifted miracles inside my prison.

My self defensive feelings no longer wearing wolf fangs.

All my hatred blown away.

She guided me back to the Kingdom
every cell radiated light within me.

My bruised angel healed by the flowing river of Sun.

All the love I never felt here,
She returned to Me.

Rainforest Mist

Styles 12 Oct 2017

Rainforest Mist

Seeping up
moving through

serpentine slick
wordless glow

drop for drop
out of time

beat upon beat
marching fire

blasting on horizon
  curling like her eyelash

writing secret whispers
  for invisible suns

burning faintly
through leaf
and  thickest canopy

her body wrapped up in
a blanket of crowded stars

rainforest eyes
covering her dreams

in illuminated mist.

Rays

Styles 12 Jul 2017

Rays

I am learning how to capture green,
obvious signs keep leading
me on.

I hear you but I cannot see you.

Inside my body, light is flashing wild.

Up and down,
hard to describe this angelic burning,
sweet summer hopes broken out, hunting you down
my soul of eternal mysteries.

There is no need to speak.

All this green shelter
speaks for itself.

All this light
still teases me,

like rays
miss the Sun,

knowing your full capacity
is more glorious than my ability to write it.

Razor Lips

Styles 12 Jul 2017

Razor Lips

This is how it zigzags
a thousand bolts of you
rippling night glass
speaking razor blades
through humbling lips.

Following the flash

one spark

is all it takes
to make the forest
write fire.

Crackling mean,
tornadoes of flame
orange red green

caught up
in a blaze
from inside eyes

praying for pools
delivering amens
sharp sun
razor blading library lawns,

prophetic writing
trapped on a bathroom stall
craving blood from understanding eyes,

jaws opening in the ocean of her heart made swimmers fear her depths.

Truth is a ruthless wanderer
a scar littered bolt of invincible storm living inside rooms of skin.

Watch out
when it speaks.

Razor blades swimming
through water
will cut you open
and force the bottom
to shed its colorful secrets.

You are a cool breeze in August twilight pushing off from green misted river,
that flows through all my dreams,

saving me from disconnected illusions.

Red Lace Lust

Styles 12 May 2017

Red Lace Lust

my red lace lust
breaks your laws
      and is
scattershot through
fantasy woods
that busts open the door to your perfect, creamy thighs.

red blooded bloggers
caught up in a writing spree
are sealed away in private rooms training to undress you         with
the
brush
of
wildflowers
along your neck,

down your
  back,
three kiss charmer:
one to ear lobe
one to upper thigh
third,
somewhere in between
the other two
maybe along your side.

your green eyed shake
rattles my roll right off the ledge of
                Table Rock.

You stir tomorrow's dust in the red lace lust of A perfected sunset.

My eyes are locked in lasers from space spotting your graceful movements like a predatory beast.

she runs in my head
no off button
for mountain springs
she falls in my dreams
a heavy, sweet torrent
smoothing rocks with constant rush.

her red lace lust
a raging sun
forced to shine
     and
trample everything with light.

She paws at my glass
   begs me with those longing
cat eyes
she wants to pounce in
moonlight and frolic with
   anything.

I must be rid of her desire.

She drives a cool sleek midnight blue Cadillac of
     Temptation.

She doesn't stop to pick me up
I am invisible
   and she isn't even real
  but I know she is out there
driving smoothly down some siren filled boulevard hoping
       for a catch.

I must be rid of her desire.

Redwood Patience

Styles 12 May 2017

Redwood Patience

I heard her thoughts breathe.

said,

she needed something with Redwood patience to understand why her mind traveled with butterflies searching for Eden.

Said, she felt ants inside her dreams carrying away the dead.

wondered if there was no limits to how her heart could grow or communicate with anything.

I saw her quaking eyes search for a place to land back before the first words that God said.

She felt the masterpiece come alive at midnight it spoke beyond all languages, treaded outside of logic, flew outside of time, connected itself with everything alive and spoke to her with a simple grace.

Everything is already yours.
Your heart is the doorway home.

She took a piece of me when she left, left an ice pick for me to play with.

Her sensitive nature understood why roots dug down in a quest for warm solace.

My heart almost closed forever, I felt the final straw detour me to wasteland.

I ran emerald frontiers in her eyes,
butterflies landing on my hands
their wings stained my eyelids
I can't go to sleep without flying through her.

my heart headed to the outskirts of Eden
imagining how she is
Loving her from behind bars
Her butterflies never seeking
my garden.

It almost wilted.

Windy wrath almost destroyed it all.

I had to search the silence
Try to understand myself through a tortured past, I had to tame your tyrant that grew inside my head.

I had to bear the weight of impatient voices that I could not repeat to anybody here
but the dead already know it,
Ones that died by their own hand.

I heard her thoughts breathe

said,

our roots go past the stars
hidden in our beating blood
is the whisper and light of God.

Resurrecting Bukowski

Styles 12 Oct 2017

Resurrecting Bukowski

Listen here you control freak sonofabitch,

I want to resurrect you from the grave and fight you in a broken
bottle
alleyway,

Not one soul to see it
except Absolute Force Of The Universe.

Don't forget we are being recorded by pure consciousness.

Get out here.

I need to test my fire.

Let's dance.

Even if you destroy me
I will taste the full angst in your blood,

when my fist finds your lip
like a star jingling rocket
painted by a moon child.

Even if I go down,
I will always love your strength

when you gave me what it took
to get up from Babylon's poisonous cement floor,

three decades of abuse on my side
flaming through every bone in Skelator's gigantic walk in forest closet,

Hansel and Gretel
roasting on smorgasbord
waiting
for the monster bite.

Do it *******!!

I am ready.

I need flakes of your teeth
in my cheeks while we tumble down razorblade hill.

Find me rehearsing your work
alone, biting at an underwater night
without stars,

when dark conifer fog
rules it all.

Waste me.

Or I'll **** you.

Then next time you can **** me again.

Until one day we laugh like old buddies, our arms slung around each other,

laughing and talking like
brothers do.

Return

Styles 12 May 2017

Return

Loose paperclip on the table
signaling for order
waiting for words
to manifest on paper
and
hold it all together.

The overheating radiator
in his mind spews out
ancient cruel riddles
of self torture
over and over

anxious-

to boil his sleeping hand
that hasn't touched a pen for weeks, even though the emotional impulse flies with lightning tips through his storm scandal eyes...

Scorched by green antifreeze
all he can do is bury himself in
passing clouds of inarticulated patterns as they flow beneath a blazing moon-

hoping for the invisible, wayward prophet to return
and interpret them
in such a way-

He hears a otherworldly voice become his own.