The only good thing about this dream is how obviously well it's been hidden.

Brought the 62
Eight of Swords burned in carpet
Told me you'd bound me

This is the Canyon lands Can you feel it man?
Dawn's early promise to lend you her hand.
Awake from the cave from the rubble you climb.
Down the lonely path to the river of time.

This is the Canyon lands far from the thought Plateau.
Deep down in that crevasse where the warming fires glow.
Where the canyon walls climb to the cheeks of the sky.
The sun she peaks in from time to time.

This is the canyon land Where the River she winds.
Cut down deep by her flowing design.
Through the valley she runs away from the caves.
On a long from our shelter to a place that we crave.

This is the Canyon Land but all we want is more.
To travel the river of time set sail from our Shores.
Slide along the river to where the canyon meets the sea.
Float on from that crevasse to Eternity.

This is the canyon land from where we took the plunge.
In to her cooling hands flowing toward the sun.
To divide and conquer explore the high seas.
Gain, grab, and get more than we can dream.

This Is The Place To Where the River Flows and the canyon meets the sea.
Plastered form our being until eternity.
Something Beyond this miserable cage that we live in.
and the sky opens up to give all she has to give
Where the sky opens up to give all she has to give.

The world
is nothing
but
a web of deception
Do not get your soul
tangled too well,
In the end
there will be left nothing
but regrets
in the ember and ashes
of time.

~dedicated to the old poets here~

the addictive pairing of certain words, a line,
a lyric, slap-snapping you to full attention,
unfailing decades of instant recognition,
an adrenaline + caffeine shot that powers

a chance, a tensile injection that causes

the lips to commence a new choreography,
the fingers to tap, a jumbled, hurried, embattled
disorderly mess that regenerates, reformulates,
concords into agreement, a harmonic consistency

a geometry of many differing angles that equate

a hard physical, a soft mentality in a singled work,
coexisting in a sacred state of singed confluence,
though imperfect, satisfies mathematical boundaries
of a random outpouring, crowning the stripe inspiring

the spark that finally satisfyingly silences an ignited

filament a-glowing for years, that holy happens
to cross your antennae, fulfilling the need to honor,
the sacred geometry of chance, the honor to need,
the joy of saying, at last, this unwritten debt, paid!


————————————————————————-
(1) a favorite of many years, a lyric from “The Shape of My Heart” by Sting

(2) Dec 3 2020 2:53pm  NYC

It took 7 dates,
But it was worth the wait.

When it finally happened
I could have sworn
that I saw explosions from
synapses firing beneath
the surface of her
bewildered
eyes;

My lips brushed
against
hers,
pressed tightly,
then
narrowly withdrew.
Incense
tangy & alluring,
smothered the air
between us.
I could not breathe!
I did not need to.

“Take off your sandals,”
She said.
“Feel holy with me.”

The thunder of trumpets rattled the red sea of blood in my arteries.
A chorus of shouting thoughts compelled me closer to her.
I laid a hand on her cheek, & stroked the contour
of her torso with the other. I felt us trembling,
but in my arms the gentle ripples
from her skin dissipated & I
Drifted into calm.
Our walls had collapsed,
& in the clearing beyond the rubble
& melted silk heartstrings,
I found promised lands.

Along with the morning mists
The tender leaves gently  uncurl
Soak in the first rays of the Sun
Listen closely to the dew
And its translucent views
Up in the mists
Rolls the voice of the soul
Behold

🌿🌿

Let me unbotton
The scarf of the feelings
Behind your chest
The layers of mirage
That filled you with mist
The fetters around your *****
And let me try
To break your shield
On the rips of truth
On the lips of the lightening words
In the middle of the night
I want to creep so deep
And reach your glass of thought
That keeps you afar
At the doors of the facts
To watch your limbs
Striding the moon
And beam with pleasure
In the eyes of the young
So tightly clung
To the sides of the river
That springs in your heart
With dispatch
That is born in brains afresh
To start from scratch
Poem by/ Hassan Mohammed Alemrany
Egypt