#blankverse
Romantic love can fade and does with time,
Like hunger of those starving in a feast,
Or a child let loose in a candy store,
Who quickly tires of endless sugar highs.
No fire can burn forever, not on earth,
The hottest flame to cinders is reduced,
And cinders' glow can warm but not consume,
And so we search for other fires in time.
Great is the need for a consuming love,
Once felt, it haunts us to our dying day,
And we engage in a most foolish quest,
Looking for that most rare eternal flame.
And when we find it, or think that we do,
We cling to it and bid reason adieu.
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 3:57 PM UTC
O Moonlight, of all lights most peaceable,
unparalleled, exquisite, and divine
which emanated from the Absolute,
Serenity, thou awe-inspiring Moon!
As we have seen thy glimmering ascent
beside the starry host o’er lilac fields
thee we adore, O princess of our hearts
who governs us with mercy most sublime.
For it is meet and noble that we sing
thy praise whilst endless ages run beyond all time:
Unconquered Moon, and Miracle Romance,
wherefore existence Thee extol for aye.
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 9:57 PM UTC
His hands encompass: pulling me from dirt
my terracotta wetness coats his palms
infusing nails and joints with ochre clay.
A ball of damp adobe, thunk, I’m thrown,
the wheel begins its spin, his fingers grasp
irregular alluvium, I'm smoothed
as digits delve into my focal point
their pressure firmly moulding, shaping me
into a vase, a *** a water jug
to be what his imagination holds.
Dec 10, 2024
Dec 10, 2024 at 1:34 PM UTC
We wait outside long closed electric doors
At last, you take my hand, you cloud-float up
Hospital gown draped over a balloon
Oxygen mask string dangles, now relaxed
Its work is over, I still hold your hand
My heels lift slightly, I still hold your hand
I can’t come with you; time for letting go,
We smile, you float -- drip, tape, and bandage free
My toes have never left their asphalt base
My dearest dream,
and
I still feel your hand
Aug 27, 2024
Aug 27, 2024 at 4:23 AM UTC
A person persuaded me.
Pursing, they persued a path of persuasion, hyperbolically.
Personally, I was persuaded.
Perhaps no persuasion is performed perfectly,
But perfection is not prerogative.
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 10:30 PM UTC
Being or seeming?
At first I was scared.
I was timid.
I tried to please,
but got in trouble anyway.
But when the changes came,
I was empty.
What you see is the real me.
I was worried.
I hated my image, but I ruminated.
I did things that should have been unspeakable.
I felt guilty. I felt free.
But I was still looking for the real me.
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 10:14 PM UTC
There's a certain wraith
in the cleaning of kitchens
scrubbing of floors
ringing of towels til
the fingers puff up
and bleach seeps
beneath your fingernails.
There's a certain wraith
to all these quiet burdens.
Feb 24, 2021
Feb 24, 2021 at 11:56 AM UTC
I take off my summer skin,
peel back bronzed afternoons
and cleave through
those muggy mornings
you were still here
but not for long.
Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 8:48 PM UTC
I've been collecting words
for years- cataloguing
feral and oblivion, catharsis and
iridescence. I keep gusto
in the drawer beside my bed.
I put visceral next to the broken
mirror you left. I've hidden marrow
next to vastness as if they are mine
alone. See how they slip out of me
like a ****** nose at just the wrong time.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 4:11 PM UTC
The word of God
Is neon now-
It screams odious
Love to the silent
Collection of limbs
Beneath it.
Iridescence
Falls in irradiated
Waves, reaches the
Sedate, the wanderers
Of Asphalt Nightmares,
At last.
They can hardly hear it
Over the mumble of voices.
They shift, leave by way
Of saturated, naked streets
Steeped
In weariness.
The new God is
Neon- but all the same
Unheard; It's violent lights
Looking to the morally
Righteous; finds
No one.
Feb 23, 2021
Feb 23, 2021 at 2:40 PM UTC
The mechanism of my body is ticking away the moments:
clinical seconds, dehydrated hours, years washed too clean.
The orbit of my ribs makes its rounds with momentous clicking
felt as a ripple- a forte into seizure.
There's something industrial in the alignment of these organs:
A factory of ventricles straining against the assembly line.
I'm a blood clock, tragic motor; I'm an organism
too mechanical to hold.
With a liver like a coal burner and lungs to expel the smoke,
how can I find a way back to being human.
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 11:33 AM UTC
What lurks unknown in fearful fraughted towns
It flits in shadows watching silently
With dire eyes and looming eight feet tall
The birdman waits for you to walk alone
He slowly stalks his prey throughout the night
And never moves unless it’s back is turned
At first you’ll notice him just up the street
But by that time it will have been too late
You walk but when you turn around again
His owl-like face the last sight that you’ll see
Dec 20, 2020
Dec 20, 2020 at 2:32 AM UTC
Hear my new haikus
Sonnets, free verse and blank verse,
At the link below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7s-BIxHWTQ4
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 4:36 PM UTC
The squall rousted the last of the roses,
a flutter amongst the mango blossoms.
The storm billowed with savage abandon,
a waterfall cascaded down the wall.
Lightning graffiti scrawled across the sky,
charcoal thunder rattled the fogged windows.
I held her trembling hand and stroked her back
as she leaped at the sound of every crack.
We breathed in rhythm — a steady tempo —
in-out, in-out, our tempest ritual.
He came to report a discovery
of roe while cleaning the rohu for lunch.
Spicy fritters added to the menu —
swift improvement to inclement weather.
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 1:32 PM UTC
They say eyes
are the windows to the soul
maybe that is why
yours are pitch-black,
clouded and yet
sinfully beautiful.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 8:43 AM UTC
Flowers bloom next to rusting Pepsi cans,
Watered by the spit of ******* dealers,
And the ***** and vaginal fluid,
Of hot lovers groping under blankets,
Under stars dimly blinking through thick smog.
Nightly haven for muggers, rapists, fiends,
Whose every breath profanes the species they,
So poorly represent, turning Plato’s,
Featherless bipeds, to dead plucked chickens,
Soul-less, pointless wastes of protoplasm.
Abomination-- not in itself but,
For the use it’s put to: a bone for dogs,
Who’ve never tasted steak, and are gleeful,
To feast upon the scraps of fetid meat,
Clinging to well-gnawed bones that they are fed.
Central Park, the bone we are to chew while,
Smiling complacently at skyscrapers,
Daily rising where wild flowers might have grown,
Our humanity proportionally,
Shrinking inversely to their daily rise.
If I seem narrow minded and unkind,
Or blind to the beauty of Central Park,
It is because I’ve stood on ****** ground,
In summer, fall, winter and early spring,
And cannot bring myself to love a *****
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 12:00 AM UTC
I haven't counted the bluebirds going by,
there can't have been more than a few, but
I always chase them away. I'm afraid
the raven doesn't see me yet.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
Oh, Morning Glory Girl, I love you so.
Little sunrise flower, more innocent
Than she knows, trying to soak up the light
Of those gone gray, my sweet Morning Glory
Girl, her bright petals start shrinking away.
Oh, Morning Glory Girl, I hate you so.
Vegan vultures feed on your innocence
You bask in the attention of corrupt
Beaks. They do not love you, Morning Glory
Girl, they just want a meal, but you're starving
For that kind of love, so you're happily
Used, every little bloom, chewed up, spat back out.
Oh, Morning Glory Girl, I miss you so.
As midnight settles in, you're all but gone
Every petal, wasted away, all for
Naught. The vultures crow over your frail frame
And hot rage boils within my grieving veins.
By the light of the moon, I mourn and mourn.
How could you do this, Morning Glory Girl?
Such lovely petals, all given away
Only to be torn! You're nothing but stem
Vegan vulture food, nothing left to see.
Who would guess that such a lovely flower
Would become a beast like me? I must go
May both of us carry on, grow something
Brand new. But remember, Morning Glory
I will never forget who I once was
Such an innocent flower, just like you.
I'll smile for you with bitter insides, love.
Sincerely, this jaded, grieving nightbloom.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
power pose
in front of the angry men
"we're not scared of you"
but they should be
she spits fire bright
from lips she wears matte dark
she's digging the perfectly manicured claws into the palms of her hand
hands that bring incredible generosity
and incredible pain
depending on how audaciously you approach her
with your alcohol-stenched breath
and a body that takes up space
but contains nothing of substance
aside from liquor of course
an empty, angry vessel of wordy slurs and slurred words
she knows they don't deserve her tears
they should feel grateful to receive even a smirk
an ounce of her attention
in this economy
with the men who untuck their shirts after a long day's work
unaware of what the women have been up to
is priceless
you can't commodify what you can't touch
they are not beds waiting for you
to lay down on
to make your lives easier
while you weigh down upon ours
her silk sheet skin
and the comfort of knowing she will be there at 2pm and 2am
this is her home
this body is an address
it is not your residence
loiterers will be fined
she will be fine
power pose
the power grows
this is your power prose
because mama,
you will be fine
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
swaying across the hardwood floors
swoon, swoon, swoon
under the moon, moon, moon
your fingers dance across my spine
like piano keys
your hand tapping against my thigh
like a tambourine
a gospel choir singing
in the background of your laughter
sobriety is easy
when you're drunk in love
and you didn't even know you could dance to this
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 5:52 AM UTC