vivid blushes of cerise
painted the morn's waking dawn
they served as a portent
to the coming rains

Sweet slumbering, sublime surmise
Dreams one source of oblivion, a rendition of her submission
Imagined kisses taking her slowly, staring into those eyes
Fast asleep, breathing sweetly, lost in purgatory or perdition?

A tear falls in the night, forgotten and forlorn
A secret relic of sorrow and joy in simplistic form
Glorious, but gone, long before morn
A moment of clarity, you stir to say goodnight, I weather the storm

Of emotion, the joy and the tinge of pain
As another night fades away and denies
Your touch, the taste of us is sought but I shall not gain
A trap in the dream telling me lies

Daylight brings the flame of life
Mirror full of lost secrets and the end of yet another night
Of delight and desire, burning strife
Such is the dis-glamour of our union and desire, strong is the bite

Bitter but oh so sweet the broken
Trampled, mangled, torn asunder, it's a long road to tend
That angel who slumbers, still in rest, what rages unspoken...
Within' makes me shudder... but mine is to mend

Marks upon her heart and soul
Lingers long, heals slow
Heavy is the toll
Great the distance, greater the longing; dealing with all I don’t know

I could ramble on and on in poem and prose
****, seductive or tender and soft, the words I might find
Only the bottom of her heart and soul, knows
What limitless bounds, memories and pain that cling and bind

Fate and fortune to my will
That at journeys end "we" go beyond her history
Seeking all that we can, beauty beyond my measure, dreams to fulfill
For a moment or an eternity, oh that mystery

Lost in moments as I sit and reflect on the words, barely aware
Have I finished or simply begun
A prologue, composed at 14 after midnight’s kiss, sitting in my chair
Past, present, future - matters at hand; one by one

Line by line it takes form
I find function for each word, making a case
Nothing of the norm
Each word has it's place, like tender kisses on that lovely face

What words, what fate, what shall I do
I find myself working, crafting, smithin', my reason sound asleep
I wish I was lying next to you
If I lay my head upon that pillow, my soul might weep

In joy, watching the gentle rise of thy chest
Lying next to thee, how divine
Bodies, hearts and souls at rest
Words to open the story well, hints in each line

~Wes Noneya
Lay Me In Your Stead
Upon That Bed
Of Nails
'06

In my old house
there seemed an old spirit
or maybe a mischievous mouse

I use to lay
in my old room at night
tired of the preceding day

The house would speak
tales of bomp, crattles, and creak
and here's what it had to say

"Womp, boop, dat,
flush, whoosh, and crack"
late at night the house would say

"Thud, crick, snap, whip,
Bang, Bang, Bang, blip"
laying on my bed this trip

And in the morn
when the old blinds were torn
here's what the old house had to say

"Pop, pop, pop, pop,
slam, nick, split, lop"
the old house continued to say

"Whack, ding, bump, splat,
hack, ping, thwump, flap"
wondering what made it sound this way

And through the noon
and into the night
my old house chatted all day

As I lay here thinking
I get the sinking feeling
that I'll start making it say

"Go to sleep and good night,
don't let the bed bugs bite,
I'll always have something to say"

How beautiful is the fairness in her *****.  It makes me.  Is the sun shining within me?  Is the lover's ***** alert again?  Me?  Is the party?  How goes within here? Is the true morn awake, smiling too?  ***** fire too?  Within recesses there stands all fire, cold fire, majestic fire, Who?

Eyes of glass, in the ocean, deep and blue.
Like fabric of white-
worn to grey.
No where in this world are there people to shiver,
yet the people, we live without day.
No morn' to see.
No rooster to crow.
No light to show our way,
yet we as humans',
lives continue,
while our mother's love makes us okay.
There be..
there be..
moonlight..
dear be..
lukewarm water,
so in which it sway.
If I may run,
I may yonder,
for I'm a mere symbol,
a minnow.
To which will force up ponder,
if rather or not,
the fishy is gay.