Revelational 33 in triangulation
A one, the perpendicular, the two
A pyramid adjoint in intersections
Recalled dream of masters and teachers

Repentant breeze on drowned water
a leather polished and scaled to sleek
A lover, my 33 year old angelic man
Reaped at the foot of the rooted crux

Restored from the mire and mirage of mares
An outward crimson, the glorified grace laced
A river that flow eastwards on descending cliffs
Revolved from the depth of oceanic rocks

Revelational 33 in triangulation
A light, the spotlight pearl unfurled
A  force that will never die but live
Rectifies and autocorrected from the abyss

I wouldn't confuse the reality of having you near
With the abrasion of things that's happened prior.
For as strong and as independent as you are, my biggest fear is becoming
An after thought to the standards of the things we both face.
The privacy of things kept behind our eyes.
The affection of things overlooked in the heat of the moment.
In the social media of our conversations, I'd never pacify
You.
As romance is well endowed, with the width of every throb my heart beats for you.
Interpreting with listening ears.
Meaningful conversations held each, with their tight grip.
If there is nothing good on TV let's soul search,
Finding my heart in your hands.
There is in fact nothing wrong with your attitude,
The passion that flows deep behind the wells of your eyes.
But understand the intensity only crackles around the fire built between us both.
Should it ever extinguish, I'll surely relight it.
For light is equally needed to see in the dark.
In the times of uncertainty, don't be afraid to grab my hand
As I'll guide you through the dark.
Reassurance that I need you just as much as I need you.
The depth of my soul pressed against your lips.
For if I should ever fall, I am confident that you will always be there.
I am not perfect in the least, for where I am weak, you are strong.
The missing piece to the puzzle of my heart.
You are far from the damsel in distress, genuinely mature and caring.
I know you have your own set of dreams and ambitions.
I respect your privacy, the intimacy
That implores both of us to achieve both.
Together nothing is impossible.
A perfect selfie of both of us lavishly enjoying the moment.
For you shall never be an after thought in the entirety of my heart

If I ever were to describe myself, I would be despondent.
Never happy when alone.
When with others, I would be absorbed into their feelings.
But really, my feelings couldn't be faced.

If I ever could depict my past, The painting would be bland.
A lone grey figure struck against a white wall.
The child without love nor maternal instinct.
Paying for survival with absolute compliance.

If I ever told you what I was thinking right now, I'd be lying.
Surrounded by a thousand paper target in a warehouse.
Suffering through your interrogation.
And you dare call it conversation.

I remember shouting at myself.
Decreeing my own hell.
Whispering in that sullen terrifying voice.
"You are the epitome of nothing, unable to love or be loved."

In truth, I was loved.
I was loved and cared for.
My love, was conditional, it was always paid for.
And for that payment I will never love back.

If I ever wrote you a poem, disregard it.
My words are better off in the sea.
Closing the book on my heart.
You, who loved me.
I, who needed you.

[12W]

In a disposable society
The first thing thrown away is

The Truth


SoulSurvivor
(C) 5/15/2016

My soul is an empty crisps packet
caught in the sour mood of a shouting wind

She snarled and I careened
— a drunken trapeze artist

That moody spirit let me fall upon a mountain top
at the feet of a brick of a black man shouting

he has seen the promised land!

My heart cracked as an egg that slipped from the bench:
his people still stumble in chains

My shouting mistress carried me aloft and I fell
in the slit of a rock upon another summit
where the finger of God scratched Hebrew into stone

The wizard’s face burned as the Lord’s shadow
passed before him as the orange tears of a volcano

I know, I heard him call up to the Almighty. They’ll
melt their earrings and innocence and cast a calf

Beneath the roar of my mistress’s temper I heard the
wizard plead like a lawyer, forgive them Lord

They don’t yet know

That temper carried my dizzy soul to another peak and
I beheld a young man slap the Devil on his left cheek

Get thee hence, Satan, he said, rejecting a throne
offered by that beauty with the stinging face

I heard the wind hiss and I cringed awaiting another crash

I broke my fall like a child off a bed and marvelled
at the sight —Oh God what a sight!

ten thousand prostrating candles hurling shadows from a cave
and ripping sleep off a man with the bugle command, Recite!

My soul my soul! I am overcome. I begged the wind to return me
to my home and she took pity and swept me in a final gust

Verily, Verily
Wandering  down the road
Singing for the pleasure of it

Suddenly,
Another  acorn in the grass
Dropped like an unexpected Thought  from the Sky
How Beautiful!

And with it
Happiness alights

..."Be smarter than that arrives.."
A word of cautionary warring
Growled from an ancient Wisdom held Below
A lover perhaps

If only we had met sooner
A Black Lion of the tangle it up sort of mischief
Raw Desire engaged demand

Return Inevitable
Neither shall Time wait,
nor shall Time go

Shadows Optional
For a Game of Chance Is only ever Play

Love acted Upon
Is Life in the Round

It was during a spring rain that
I finally understood my desperate
Obsession with poetry.
With writing.
With why I write.
It was in the silence,
In the drawn breath between the
Impact of the first raindrop and
The shattering of the second
That I remembered something
I had always known, but never
Given voice to.
I write, not only to put a piece
Of myself on paper,
Immortalization, in a way,
But because I was searching
For something. Searching for some
Forgotten and lost part of myself.
Thinking, maybe in the words I say
And the words I don't,
And the reasons in between,
I would find my missing piece.
The other half of my soul.

Wavering.
Seems to be stuck in the sidecar.
With doubt in in back.  
And fear spilling out of every pocket.
Where can anything else fit.
It always seems like the only option is to floor it.
And hope.
The next experience isn't.
A wreckage.
Time seems to slow in this moment.
As if to give you one last replay.
Of what can never change.
Tumbling end.
Over beginning.
Through logic.
And past the last chance.
Lementing choices and decisions.
Hate flowing through burning veins.
Igniting the very air.
Causing a caustic reaction that seems to backdraft the entirety of it all.
Leaving only the ash to tell the tale.
And then there are those who see this very disturbance.
And find something within themselves never before used.
Touched.
Or seen.
And alter the very fabric of repetition.
With nothing more than a smile and.
Willingness.
Fear knot the emotions that entangle others.
For it only takes one to wade through the murky echoes of the past.
To ensure.
That The insanity will recede.
There are no shackles.
Only encumbering thoughts.
The only impass.
Is the very reflection staring back.