The evening stars were gone, replaced
by a spreading, ominous purple bruise of cloud.
When the wind rose, in sudden violent
crisscrossing gusts, everything went into motion.

White cabanas shook, like staked swans
flapping to fly, lavender bushes thrashed
their thorny arms as if in panic, umbrella pines
creaked and writhed like tethered balloons.

Lightning lit the winding, stony stairs, like ornamental
neon lights, as we’d run up the path from the beach.
Shockwaves of thunder accompanied the flashes
- there was no lag - the storm was there and upon us.

We were laughing and screaming, like children
chased through a dark Halloween funhouse.
The first, fat drops of rain popped behind us,
like a giant’s, arrhythmic, snapping fingers.

As we reached the open, French, louvered doors,
that led from our suite down to the shoreline,
we body-slammed them against the tempest.

And braced them fully closed with our backs, as if to vilify the
natural courses of wind and rain with an animal will to break in.

The lashing monsoon heralded our urgent, stormy union.
We were like the storm - insistent, wild and untamed.
All was revealed in that flashing, tempestuous darkness
as need, euphoria and lightning lit the naked night
.
.
A song for this:
Walk Between Raindrops by Donald Fagen
Hurricane Waters by Citizen Cope

Listening to the future
Sing a song, sing a deeds our
In the stark and relative promise, we cure
With hugs and kisses, the toil of anarchy in all power

Cherished time...
With imbued lips, the chastity of sorts
The wind to live once more, in world and chime
To know a clash with poise, these tears are yours...

Rights risen, to voices of callousness...
With the claim of sincerity as a tool, that becomes
A harrowed force, we have never seen without bless
Of a seclusions kindness, though even a hate may be some's

Risen rights, to voices we care
Forth a heady Christ, the trade of a lifetime?
Walls of avarice and heed of a monstrous appetite to fare
Is here and now, beloved, even in the eyes of barren lives?

Burden in sight, brief as a war with silence is
Evermore, the turn of chastity into a problem for needs
That burned a charity's flames, a grant of sin to substance
That in the spoken drive to see another become, living seeds

Welcome home
The vanity of surmisal, and its hurry to question the truth
Has added, has asked the vestige of powers, has life atoned?
For the notice of speed in the vices we spare, from even the risks of poorness, so aloof...

Your name, like acid rain,
Corrodes my brain;
Polluting each day
Of sun-filled joy.
If I cower in bus shelters,
Or under a tree,
Beneath an umbrella,
Or abandoned doorway;
You soak me, erode me,
Then wash me away.
It's a tempest inside
Swirling the dust I call skull;
I tremble and quake
For the sake of your name.
And I can't for the life of me
Shake off your refrain,
The cloudy repetition
Of your first and last names.