shine storm shadow heave sordid sky
beat your diamond rain and milk sweet
delirious black blue moaned symphony
drive woman drive rough skin delicate
run spring drunk light panting velvet
watch you play your sea on raw bed
live rust sun mad rose-tinted like moon
you have chocolate drool ache
mother I never did like those sad
arms all dressed in red and furious
but see no wild woman feels less
sit or go but let what is be is
eat one picture a day, smear languid
love with finger
flick you kind wand kazzoo away
and please whisper smooth scream
through apparatus from forest
lather you life white bubble like
use all ugly love as fertilizer then cry
bitterly and pour frantic sleep into
lazy garden moss soft as a pillow
upon sacrilegious world thought
swim water through silken sheets
and rock it fluff puppy
you are an enormous exquisite honey ship
lick it fresh juice sweet cream
rip your winter above want
and rave on brave pilgrim
A rave party of atoms,
Ideas, events, everything; bouncing off-of each other creating,
A shallow breath, an itch, a masterpiece waiting to be made,
A symphony, a design, a calling.
Anger, hurt, despair.
Eating at me like a parasite,
Feeling relaxed, released, and recluse.
Your contradictions lead me to think,
That I'm the only contributor plugging the sink.
It's overflowing, somethinge's stuck,
I peer down the drain, it's filled with muck.
What you don't understand is I'm not the whole cause,
You're not either, but we both carry flaws.
I like to watch the water drip down the drain,
So I don't have to go out and get wet from the rain.
You like the thought of where it goes,
As you hear the sweet symphony the drops compose.
But these faults alone don't hold the drops hostile,
It's a compilation of things that put them in exile.
Please don't blame just you or me,
One day it'll clear and the drops will drip free.
But until then, we have to stay sane,
As we listen to the water drip down the plugged drain.
The lamp glows brightly now
i sit by my pine table
the old fan quivers as it blows...sending
sheets of paper........fluttering...
mind, pen, paper, and hand
work side by side without end,
to bring out unspoken feelings
especially on long starry nights,
towards the table, I now lean,
my shadow slowly rises
it shields me as i start.
while tapping pen on paper,
the strong scent of "Dama de noche,"
swims through the dark atmosphere, slowly
penetrating my nostrils.........i hear the song
of the leaves.............a calming rustle,
a soft touching of each other,
paving the way, for
pleasant thoughts to start streaming,
gentle musings long held inside
and kept alive...all now come into being
this sleepless night
......a poem's birthing, is nigh......
chest rises and falls,
on a peaceful rhythm
the soft touching of the leaves
my own breathing,
the old fan blowing,
sheets of paper fluttering,
and on paper...........pen tapping,
all these sounds, create my poetry's
at length, i get weary
from writing my poems of thee,
outside, i watch dark shadows of trees swaying
a soulful music comes to mind
the sweetest hymn
ever hummed to me,
reminding me, it is time
to "take five...."
Come my love, take my hand
through the music of the night,
where forest creatures
keep the melody
sweet, beautiful and light.
The forest floor, a mossy bed
our own loving sounds,
so we can hear the symphony
being played all around.
We will be caressed
ever so softly
by the tender touch of a breeze,
surrounding us in the spicy scents
the tall canopy of trees.
Our dance of love so slow and gentle
lay upon the soft cool ground,
adds a beauty to the symphony
of the night
that will forever resound.
A sweet symphony,
Is booming in the middle of the night,
Making itself known in my head.
Sleep is no longer important,
Listen to the different tunes dance around you.
Everything is pounding against your skull,
That you can't help but hum along to.
Vibrating notes that leaves bittersweet taste.
Leaving nothing misery in its wake,
Till you finally can drown it out,
But its to late, 3am flashes on the nightstand.
Sleep shall never come easily,
Not with my 'Symphony of Bittersweet Paranoia.'
apart from a nocturne playing
i hear a symphony of peaceful breathing
and snoring...rhythmical, this quiet evening,
it sends me soaring up my own universe,
with eyes closed, it grows more immense
creates some kind of a calm, in the silence
surrounding me, and my muse's presence.
stardust and moon provide me a crown
while i float...and probe around,
seeking something i don't know about,
in this journey,
i feel the absence of souls, slumbering deeply,
dreaming their simple, or strange fairy tales.
the firmament, wears a navy blue veil
stars are dots, they glow and scintillate,
like a warmth in the cold....emancipates
my invisible wings flap and fold,
a door knob...my hands take hold,
my destination...bright, resplendent,
"Cosmic Coffee Shop," a place, transcendent,
brewing a blend
-the dark, the positive
-the sweet, and the negative
a sign says, "write....there's pen and paper
in every corner..."
an invite, for people to create prose and poetry
where coffee is free, smells...tastes heavenly
a place to share...with brethren, in poetry.
(an old poem)
Copyright November 21, 2016
Here my dreams
That perfect paradise
Lost in a darkness
Even sun doesn't rise
A bunch of wilted roses
For cremating lives
Lost Like an overdose is
No need for rusted knives
Phantoms are humming
With symphony of knell
Anthems stay in silence
For rusted broken bells
Priest chose the quiet
& the rest forgot to pray
No word could describe it
No tear did roll that day
warm sweet air
late bloomers arriving
others on the bye
bees and butterflies
just for a moment