when I get home
I won't be alone
you're always with me
in my mind.
your hands are always around my neck,
you write symphonies on my body with your tongue,
full waves of electricity,
we never stopped kissing.
the feeling of your body against mine,
the beating of a heart at a steady pace,
your good health
for letting you share this life with me.
for this moment.
I am alive.
She walked down the road
In the middle of “everywhere”.
With the wind ruffling through her skirt
And wild flowers stomped beneath her feet.
Her hair twisted around her little finger
Along with his heart.
Of the one who had walked by her side
For an eternity.
His one hand carrying the luggage
And other clutching his heart.
His world was what she saw
And his “everywhere” where she walked.
Silences were made
To be filled by her words.
and her pauses were
meant to be filled by his voice.
The companion in their travel
Was the transient fluttering image
Of his arms entwined in hers
And her laughter weaving
A dream in his eyes.
What this image was to them?
That gave them courage to take one more step.
That made every loss bearable.
Or a reality of their hearts?
An old silly idea of romance
That found no place in this world
Maybe found a place in theirs.
On Thursday evening
I pray near a Grave in Kashmir
Lit in bundles
Aroma makes me feel
As I kneel
This is land of my forefathers
Where they rest
I too look for a place nearest
I belong to these graves
Here my soul craves
To sleep till eternity
In the Eden of divinity
What else Should I ask
That has more dignity
I often find myself gasping for air
on a Tuesday morning
when my window sits overcast and painted with fog
a black fountain of youth finds my company
as I sit gazing intently while life drips through the cracks of dried skin
my elixir presents itself in the form of bittersweet beans in a cup
eternity seems forever but conceptually I can only view it as ashes to dust
a normal day is wrought by much contemplation
but yet my mind is blank...
not a thought in the world can seize eternity
but maybe the fog on my window can whisper her secrets
as I sit riddled with anxiety on an Tuesday morning
Traveling, the long dark roads
every long night,
to faraway memories…
Looking for the woman,
I adore, lives in
Seeking her Soul,
at the heavens,
Asking her with words,
from deep within my heart
to come to earth from paradise,
"Please, spend a loving night with me, my Angel."
Opening up my Soul,
Asking her; the love I miss so very much.
Please end my pain, wrap your wings around me,
and bring my Soul home, with the magic of your love and beauty.
Copyright © 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved.
The desecration of vitality,
Melancholy entices the pond of hope, repelling golden shimmering.
Infernal tendrils bringing insight to carress in snide
Dug its sharp elongated thorns inside, mending its stride
Gently encompass its roots around the mask,
The concrete veil that shone brightly in false atonement.
Expulsion from the realm of gold, sent astray for an eternity;
Such naïve, brazen happiness, ignorant of the caveats
The mere playground of unbridled mania quarantined.
Faux manifestations of an illusory smile,
For the horizon cast mere wisps of blight,
Rejecting heartbeat of rays gone awry.
They smirk as they watch you flee.
Palms and hedges and drooping flowers
Redeeming my desperation for a marvel
Palms and hedges and drooping flowers
We’ll get there soon, don’t sulk, let’s go
The moon is low today, something about it
Makes me want to stay, dark green bends,
Said end of an age, not for me, worth it but
I know the Lord does not see like man-kind
Like bells, time tolls, but I’ve run distant – don’t hear ‘em
Like resurrection, time’s ignored, so I’m not afraid to hold you close
Long travels are tiresome but get you were you want to go
And finally I’m in the house of redemption like more – Morrison
It’s easy to love the more long lanes, dark hours
Won’t trade it at all, these what money’s for
Taken with soft tropic pain, I watch the moon alone
But this is bliss, maddening bliss, want it, give me bliss
The moon is bright and old, reflecting the sun
Like I do a great design. City’s a beautiful lagoon
With gems lingering in their own detention
Not it’s not decided so I’ll sing it cold, electric