Is it just me, or is everything regarding love unbearably intense?
No matter which end of its spectrum you take a look at,
you're left in a daze
Whether dealing with crippling heartbreak
or a rush of sweet endearment,
it's up to you to find a way through the labyrinth.
There's just so much emotion that can course through
your  veins,
your  mind
your  heart  and  soul
it's hard to grasp the reality of the concept
that gravity is ever present
but still every
single
one
of
us
falls.
And yet
we embrace it.
This love that we find
and manage to scrounge up
into existence
and for some unknown reason
hope that it's reciprocated
because
what is love
if we are not loved?
With love,
it's not common that you see someone
unconditionally loving another
without wishing
wanting
dreaming
hoping
that they love them in return
but in many cases
the hope is all for naught.
Even in the midst of dangerous waves of rejection,
we force ourselves to believe
that somehow, some day
our efforts will be successful
that we will find the one,
that special someone
with whom we can spend the rest of our days with.
The fact that we all feel incomplete
and struggle about in the darkness
without some form of it,
that our structure
our frame of consciousness
has no stability without it,
the fact of the matter is that
it could very well be the epicenter of everything we do
and that to me is so incredibly intense.
We force ourselves to believe that it will all be worth it.
Because it is worth it.
Love is worth the intensity,
whether I can grasp that concept or not.

~

Drifting on a meandering stream
where clover dance and ripples direct my thoughts
to the promises of a new day

I dream I am floating in your arms

as currents gently tug
playing solitaire in wishing hands
among glistening diamonds on the surface

I search for each desire’s realm

while my eyes wander to a place
long of sunrise sparklings
on soft apricot murmurs

Finding your fragrance on a cool wind’s whisper

my heart is drenched,
cleansed in an endless channel
of what your beauty brings to me

I rest in a shady spot among watercolor shadows

writing poetry,
penning my affections in ink traced lines,
renderings of how wonderful my life is

Since you have washed over me

leaving me breathless,
submerged far beneath dew drop shimmers,
saturated by your love

Blue* is cold,
Like beauty which falls,  
Called rain.
Like the warm blanket I sleep with,
While they starve.
Blue is the colour writers write about,
When they speak of heartbreaks.
And the colour of the monsters,
Under your bed.
Blue is the red and white of the Americans,
And the Ashoka Chakra of the Indians,
The colour of the eyes of the Germans who lived,
And the colour of the tears of the Jews who lost.
Blue is the skin of the dark hued god you pray to,
And the sky he looks at,
And the sky I look at,
Blue is the fading Sun,
And the sleeping Moon,
The stars in the sky,
Which we wish upon,
Which are already dead,
Like all our dreams.
Blue is the vast ocean we can not cross,
But we have,
With our metal birds......those aren't blue.
Blue is the blood the women bleed,
And the Palestinians in Israel.
And the sleepless children fighting wars.
Blue is free health care,
And overpopulation.
Blue is religion,
And it is death.
Blue is the glazing over your eyes as you read this.
Because *blue...isnt a colour.

Deep within
My ever resting soul
I dance
Along constellations
Feel the heat
Kissing the bare soles of my feet
I submerge myself
In vast seas
Glide along gentle giants
I resurface
Under a thousand suns
And take flight
Born in a supernova
Of star dust
And drops of Jupiter
My heaven
Is silent

I find myself in love

With sweet Tangerine

Coming straight to me

From the land of modern dreams

California juicy

Sticky in between

Orange in the glow she holds

My sunny citrus queen

A look into the future

Best is yet to be

With her rounded attitude

My sweet Tangerine

Ocean currents pull
But I refuse to conform
I? Why, I am free.