You are the meaning of my life
You are the dreams of my thoughts
You are the lyrics of my feelings
You are the literature of my silence
You are the journey of my emotions
You are the translation of my path
You are the definition of my identity
You are everything for me
Just do one thing for me
Allow me to be me....

Pleasant surprises never come to me and
Pessimism is how I learned to survive
So forgive me if I show doubt my darling
I haven't felt this happy for a very long time

Fried brinjal rolled in flatbread
Her magic recipe of love homemade
What treasure they hold what charm unlocks
When sharp at two opens up lunchbox!

A sweet candy from the finest cheese
Made from cow milk a salivary bliss
I feel helpless and little can do
My belly when growls sharp at two!

I feel entranced in that magic hour
When smell green peas and cauliflower
She makes them fine rich butter spread
The toasted breads her love homemade!

She knows my bowel not makes it rich
Fine cut cucumber in soft sandwich
In all them I find her special brew
Of love homemade to be opened at two!

Though it’s never that I made her known
How sweetly relish her love homegrown
But when I open lunchbox at two
Wonder without her what I would do!

Christina
undresses
before bed

views herself
in the tall
wide mirror

narrow waist
small fleshy
mounds of *******

she turns round
and gazes
at her hams

smiles thinking
what he'd say
if he viewed

what she views
looking back
over her

thin shoulders
she turns round
to the front

***** hairs
narrow hips
he would say

you're too thin
need more meat
0n your ****

but your ***
is ok
time for sleep

to put on
her nightdress
brush her teeth

comb her hair
get in bed
close her eyes

think of him
making love
in her head.

On a y-shaped twig hanging on the stream
The kingfisher was absorbed in fishy dream
Move close I told myself move as close
To make sure you shoot its meditative pose.

Instinctively manifold alert and smart
It didn’t oblige me as an object of art
But flew away with the thought in its mind

**No luck now with a ******* creeping behind!

Will, makes the body a fiddle, every string vibrates with music,
life continues to be a bacchanalia, for long, from teens to midlife,
the weakening of pleasure seeking streak, brings spirit
to the center of thought, meditativeness brings connect
with the all pervading spirit, then poetry of the universe seep in
ecstatic moments of body, mind and soul, one is convinced,
are soaked in poetic cadence, oozing from the divine spring within.

See us at our worst
while we are shooting rifles at the stars
cutting our teeth on razor blades
opening smiles on each other's skin
See us, scorn us, for we are mad indeed

Tell us what you think
that we are broken glass
And what is broken cannot be fixed
by something just as broken
Tell us, scorn us, for we are hopeless indeed

Loathe us for what we have
for our ability to walk on the path
of a crashing meteor
to fly without wings, without loneliness
Loathe us, scorn us, for we have something beautiful indeed

Madness, hopelessness, and beauty
weaved into an artless pattern
pulling at a rainbow of threads
forming knots amid chaos after chaos
For we are wild forests and flowers and greenery

And we choose no more
We choose no less
We are right where we want to be
Floating in uncharted galaxies
until there is only us.

A trinity of three styles one man no religion one morning over a lifetime

Temporary (we tat too)

Temporary love
has no precision definition
so if I say
love you forever,
as I do,
know know
just know
this particular
phrase
is temporary,
unique and forgivable

as temporary
as our permanent tattoo,
the one embellishing you,  
the one marking me,
the two hearts tat
that means
we are a
tat two

If you begin a poem,
a love, a tat
with temporary,
usually, but not always,
you have already failed

See http://hellopoetry.com/poem/if-you-begin-a-poem-with-i/

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Invalidation

my living bones, twisted.
my words, slurred,
disfigured with a panache,
that makes the mirror
turn away, ashamed

invalid. in valid.

I have been invalidated,
I spit at your too late heroics,
unwanted.
I spit at myself,
for missing the moment,
when choice was mine

I would have self-destructed, freely,
reborn in an act of self-validation,
be my own living will,
if only I had not been enslaved to my
*******
Fear

invalidation, the Cain mark of every failed man

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bootyoir

three day weekend has commenced.
it's con-occlusion
now in rapid descent
mini-vacation, ****-sensation.

the only question remaining,
present but debated,
as yet undecided,
whose turn is it
to answer
the doorbell,
when the delivery guy
brings our break~fast

for it is forbidden,
a transgress,
to egress
from the bootyoir,
except for the
call of nature,
and naturally,
I am calling
you,
comeback comeback
hungry time
it's time we
co-authored some
bootyoir poetry

The stables
where horses
snort and move

and grooms work
and sky dull
and greyish

Alice walks
holding on
for dear life

to the hand
of Mary
the one she

has chosen
to be her
new mother

fingers red
with washing
chores and things

but it's warm
as she holds
the hand tight

Mary talks
of cold nights
noisy bed

attic mice
and spiders
in corners

of the room
Alice says
I could stay

in your room
keep you warm
cuddle up

hold you close
as I did
with Mother

in her bed
before she
was locked up

with illness
of her brain
Mary sighs

feels the hand
in her own
small and warm

small fingers
tiny nails
pink and pure

different class
than her own
we will see

Mary says
stable sounds
horses snort

their large heads
looking out
******* eyes

large white teeth
busy grooms
at their work

Alice looks
inner fear
but draws near

wants to stroke
Mary lifts
Alice up

her red hands
wedged beneath
small armpits

mother's love
smells the soap
in the hair

on the blue
pinafore
Alice smiles

feels the horse
smooth and hot
on her hand

Mary holds
feels the heart
beating soft

as she holds
Alice up
to the horse

secret child
adopted
in her heart

none must know
of this love
secret pact

lift her on
a groom says
Alice thrills

lifted there
Mary holds
the groom laughs

in loud barks
in the blood
this horse love

the groom says
Alice smiles
happiness

shining out
of her eyes
Mary holds

her tightly
keeps her there
on the horse

safe and sound
then later
after that

lifts her down
to the ground
as the horse

with the groom
walk away
come on then

Mary says
let's go back
your father

will wonder
where you are
Alice nods

holds the hand
soft and warm
wants to be

close to her
but she sees
by the house

Nanny stand
arms folded
grim features

dressed in black
Mary holds
the child's hand

tighter still
walking back.

Sometimes ***** tastes like you.
Like having *** on the bathroom counter.
Like pizza movie nights.
Like getting high on the roof while reading poetry.
Like eating you out in the back of that church.
Like crashing that car in the field behind your house.
Like playing the guitar on your back porch.
Like the sound your horrid contagious laughter.
Like drawing hearts on each other's backs with crayola markers.
Like your tongue after the first cigarette.
Like you and me.
Like you.
Like us.
Like you.