I passed you on a stairway

Somewhere back in time,

I just had to make you mine!

You tried to take me your way

Up where the skies are blue,

I had other plans for you…

You wanted to go towards the light,

I dragged you down into the night

Through depths of dark despair.

Welcome home to the devil’s lair.

I pushed and you fell

Down the stairway to hell…

By the light of a fire burning bright

The Lady sought love in the night

Desire ignited within her dark eyes

She went to him with innocent guise

In his chamber her Lord did wait

With his black heart full of hate

After Hearts and bodies did entwine

He gave her a goblet of ruby wine

The venom brought her to the floor

He told his wife he loved her no more

It was another who set him aflame

He was callous and without shame

As the poisoned wine her life did take

A final promise she did make

Beyond the grave, his cruel crime

He would rue until the end of time

Oh poetry, grant me no greatness, no skill to outshine
any other artist, for humility should meet my own soul.
Rather, every act of mistake, character flaw, have each
unlived moment I experienced shown and glorfield in
the echoes of eternity. Poetry, provide me passion now,
for my Muse needs rest of teachings, reminding that
any act now, could be my last. I believe death is a constant
in thy life.
(knowledge variable)

It’s a delight to know the fear,
providing a loss of life. With
only the moon that wears
feathers from phoenix. Gold
drippings and arch of eternity.
Rebirth not from water, but of
soul selling to herself, in
innovation and originality. As
the others emulate. Starlight
allure, speaking languages
with humanities musings.
Waking the dead world, dropping
men to their knees as their
boyish behavior is pulled to the
front. Relinquishment of dogma,
as we all enter a new age.
As chanting songs in homage
to her. As no more tears to cry,
to what she avoided in the first
place, is attention from others,
pushing away romantic gestures,
conversing conversations, a
standard practice of life’s narrative.

Her, a silent twilight, alura of lights, glitter outside
from the in. A sublime way, letting go of her own
queenness, surpassing poetry and any narrative
of symphony. Thought ballet tried to replicate.
Belonging only to herself, for herself and none other,
than the chess game of mind, body and soul.
Musical actions, outgrowing sentimentality. Modern art,
portrait paintings, clanker's orchestra. Mystical
in fluid literature, writing such as these, potent poetic
prose. To where she won’t notice, nor even care.
Mother to art. Sister to romance. Regal without effort.
Harmony in thy soul. Because her breathe is harmony
in this world. Where this earth or matrix, perhaps
isn’t as sinful as I thought. (I repose from spells,
there is a belief in love and romance that sparkles
in this world as poetry.)

To be in pursuit in my own destiny, to break away
from my dreams. Proclaiming my inner world as
my state. Land walked over. Vagabond. Lusting
for experience. Haunting now. Haunting never.
I’m breaking the narrative of society and made
something of myself. Poetry that I write, is a
different story. Truth be told, its in order to grab
attention from thy lover.
(knowledge variable)

After
heartbreaking
realization.
A loss of life, a loss of another path. Destiny crumbles. As it shouldn’t.
Phosphorescent radiance in roaming ways, that twinge and flicker, distorting the sun's natural beams of rays that have sneaky ways in entering. Tilting up and gasping. Where the kids remain open and the eyes begin to scatter.
Becoming aware in not small moments of waves.
All at once.
Hitting every burrough of one’s soul, while the hands are in the pockets of a standing body. It’s horrific, yet not in disguise, spellbindingly beautiful. Filling out the tumultuous darkness in the inner-world, tempest to awakening. Be with me now. When it starts to ****** one’s secrets. I begin to sit on the nearest chair, trying to take a look of the sun through the colours that appear.
Turreted
towers that collapsed.
Heavy breathing that takes parts away, is the harsh payments of ones sin committed. Eccentric persona, developed from years of artisans works, finally taking over. Porta.
Darling state. Poetry letters open. Words of confessions.
Feet stretched out. Hands stay the pockets. Head slightly moves right. Held a moment. Looking up again. As after so many prays. The Heavens finally opening up for humanity for the first time. Rebirthed had always involved water.
Overpowering welcome. Restoring from the forgiveness of sin. And each word from every dogmatic book written, pops up at random, making sense and every flash. Atmosphere drops in heavy weight, the past is murky mist. Easy to let go and never to return as a spot to live, lessons when they appear. Like how stars are here to teach beauty.
Coherent schemes
by the
Mystics.
Patternless carpets. The inner-world is a funny things. Confusing lust for love. Believing own ideas are works of genius.
The sunlight darkens. The room cleared of any breeze. Still muteness. Standing and feeling the heart pump. Parish. Laugh now. In a post style, it enters with a meticulous way, lavish to make any prince grin with tinted jealous unable to contain. It’s good poetry. ****** outside, chanting to make my peace within and myself. Forgiving any mistake I bear hands had made, smile at any regret and remember shameful moments.
Anything till now is nothing.
Illumination happens during self-discovery or self-destruction.
There’s goats in the field. Moths circle them.
The ****** wears black in preparation. Myth and reality collide together when the rapture happens. Be conscious of it.
Life happens, whether I pay attention or listen.
Death is my final payment, after hardships that I am to endure.
Passing my soul and spirits to a another world. I continue to read ancient poetry that has been written to last eternity. Sunburnt kisses on the paper.
I leave the room, shall never return. And it still runes in me, like a  violent fever. Standing out in supercilious atmosphere. Like a son to a Muse. Meanings in fumes. Turbulent soul, mixing in with neo ways. Sweeping motions. To what happened than, in earth is now gone forever. So goodbye. Strange to think of you, as someone I knew and we no-longer talk. During summer hazes and frost biting air whilst surviving winter. Now, we have nothing to say and never to witness another’s hard times and weep while it’s happening. Goodbye. You can say I’m hiding behind poems and their words, instead of thinking I’ve gone to seek comfort elsewhere, still you haven’t goodbye. For I still wish to live in poetics, my romantic nature I cannot part, I wanted love and so-far, only poetry had supplied. So goodbye for now.
For I wanted and felt, that my own revelation would be your arms, **** fleur, thinking I’d be safe there and feeling holiness while inside your open legs, being baptised by the wetting puddles you produced.
Goodbye, writing that,
feeling it’s forever.
Prophecy in poem perhaps.
Maybe in abstract ways, in obscure and teasing ways, I tasted love, the love I felt for you and it’s snatched away in quicker ways than the duration it lasted inside.
Perhaps this end of times, change of worlds, is everything wrong, my flaws, defects, regret that’s opening up to swallow me whole. And that will be the end of me.
Goodbye for now.
Maybe love knows how to moonlight.
Lust.
The freedom from the ******* of self, is an open den, full of stronger stuff than *****, **** and seducing in it’s absolute liberating methods.
Twilight.
A salt grain on my path to total enlightenment and I’ll be a single totality of illumination, even without my true love. Plucked from and placed down this world of Musings. Oh lover, I do wonder what would of happen. The only thought I dwell in, play to it’s fantasies. Perhaps it would be something we’ll laugh about together.
Good old times,
with nothing to show for. Just something shaping experiences.
I’ll go forward, not knowing how to quit love. Without any conditions or expectations of communication. Look inside, for hold intimate essence of thyself, achieving the extraordinary, because now, I have no one to prove myself to, without a yielding validation. Full of mystery and wonder. Humble with the toiling actions hands and feet. Viewed as something else to others. Thyself is normal. Humility is even harder to grasp and hold. Thy world now, full of poetry I’ve written, full of gold and silver that makes love with stopping and fail, madness never hiding behind a veil, nothing else to burden me, slowing me down, never to distract.
Knowing too much
to which will never
satisfy
my thirst, but time provide to learn more.
meditating
over
jazz ballads, smooth
surface
wondering
moods.
I’m present not with myself in comfort. Pretty words spurting out, forming sentences in hopes to evoke emotions mixed in with thoughts. Do not say hello to me now. I’ve gone elsewhere. I’ve only taken coffee and dropping off poems.
Where I’m no longer a victim of times mocking laugh with the face of a clown. No longer to decay of what I could've been. Forever exists where I live.
Without thy soulmate, I have everything but turned into nothing.
Like a monk in a monastery.
In odyssey, sleep is never, conscious always, dreamy form, full figure, waking. Tattoo drops. A saint in a province constant evolving beauty. Angels are thy neighbour. Discussing never the issues held within humanity. Passages of passionate time. Lengthy duration. Lover, if you ask me now, I got peace in my own mind and happy now. My shakes have left me, like the morning of a day beginning.
Understanding everything.
Dropped my heart, press it closer.  I’ve dropped into myth, never to leave, exiled not, jailed not, prisoner not. Goodbye, I’ve left.
Perhaps I’ll be plucked again, picked again, any enlightenment given to me, will all be stripped away and wake from this wild strawberry dream.
(knowledge variable)

Oh poet, always in that stream of mood, a stranger,
in a place that’s overwhelming and never asked a
thought on it’s own design. Given life freely, born
like everyone else. Yet, still in exile over this globe.
A dark yawning. A mundane normality. Without a
lust for anything, going about it’s daily business,
without a name. Do not wonder too close to them.
Stay with poetry. For someone needs to mix
emotions, sensations and thoughts together and
take the time to articulate. For the rest, are too
busy fitting in.
(knowledge variable)

Vanishing yearnings, losing sense of time, provoke a myth,
impending a little apocryphal. The sun rises and it goes. A
breathe that creates shadows, covering mountains, something
that isn’t learnt. Flawed genius. Goats cry. Mystics chant
songs that praise. A faint taunt of rage, before turning to sobs
and whimpers. Gloom in darkness. Sin to be paid. Nothing
to do, but change in shift structures.

Believe in eyesight, believe now, if not, not to worry. Garments
drop from the air, blood replacing rain, this is not to express a
furious despair. When evening is not, muddy and dark waters,
where children swim, a distraction. Adapt not. It will not reward.
Murmur of voices carry in the wind, as the earth prepares to
stop spinning, it’s prays and nothing else. Horror turns to most
resistant to a religious observer.

A collection of suffering and nothing else.  

On the other side, debates, battles, things we cannot invent
in our minds eye, argue over us. Their decision is based on
our actions. This is democracy. A flavour of goodness. Brewed
from unholiness. Tragedies remind us, constantly on death.
Yet. We all die one day. Despite our thoughts, intents and
actions leading towards it. We can’t we die together?

Underneath, there’s a stream of something different,
tender feelings, fear, broken pieces, memories, wishes
of the future, a complete inner-world, where everything
is speaking in poetics. Maybe a whole disaster. Touched
and ever flowing. Shattered over the crackling floor.
Where everyone seems to step on. Musings, letting me
know, endurance and there is no promise of life. Maybe
it’s you that’s destiny. Colliding together. For I’ve written
poetry before. Because I wanted t say everything to you,
without fault of forgetting and still want to say everything,
without skipping a beat. I’m desirous of all of it, everything
that comes with love, simultaneously and burst in explosion,
as if love was the first time ever. Actions in wild passion,
forgetting what’s underneath, I’m wanting to love now. Like
if forever exist. Validation happens in love. The mastering
of flaws, happens in love. Perhaps even streams of the
stronger, meaning of one’s life. For we know, bypassing the
unexpected turn, the horror of stumbling upon love, poetry
would of never started, if wasn’t for moments like this. There
is life without you, for that I cry, it’s something I would rather
not, endure if I must, viewing the world with hate and complete
bitterness.
(knowledge variable)