I bought myself a kite to fly
I tossed it up and ran around
I tried to pull it through the sky
But found it just dragged on the ground.

It landed in the mud, it was mangled, it was done
And thus concludes the tragic tale of the kite I numbered one.

My second kite was different.
It caught a mighty gale
I flew it well, then let it go
And in the end I failed.

It joined released balloons and leaves, whatever else is there
In the *****, lonely cloudland in the out-of-picture air.

I still had hope and so I bought
My final silken bird
I told myself that I would soon
Unleash it to the word.

The kite's debut date got pushed back and further back until
It found a final resting place untested in its skill.

I bought myself three kites to fly
The first two meet ill fates
The third one has a dusty shelf
Where it keeps very safe.

the clouds of cloudland
cast a light of pastel slate
through dripping windowpanes

and as if in a dream
we move and touch
I feel your loving lips
take in all that is yours
all I can give to you
in this enchanted moment
we carved
   in sudden desperation
out of the marble stream of time

           * *

Day is dying! Float, o song,
Down the westward river,
Requiem chanting to the Day,
Day, the mighty giver!

Pierced by shafts of Time he bleeds,
Melted rubies sending
Through the river and the sky,
Earth and heaven blending.

All the long-drawn earthy banks
Up to cloudland lifting:
Slow between them drifts the swan
'Twixt two heavens drifting,

Wings half open like a flower.
In by deeper flushing,
Neck and breast as ******'s pure
****** proudly blushing.

Day is dying! Float, o swan,
Down the ruby river,
Follow, song, in requiem
To the mighty Giver!

This Valentine’s Day,
I will not promise you
the twinkling stars
or the dreamily shimmering
blue moon.
No, don’t get me wrong,
My love, But,
I will not promise all those
fantasies,
that I cannot really gift you.

But,
I will vow to love you
till the eternity
And make you realize
howspecial you are.
And you’ll crave for
no cloudland.
Because my love will be your
Only euphoria.
And I will promise you
Honesty, love, trust and happiness.

I will not promise you
the bed of roses only.
For I know every rose
comes with its thorn.
Life can be cruel at times
and I promise at those
harsh moments,
I will be the last person
to leave you alone.

What good are the big vows,
when one fails to bestow
even a simple smile?
What good are the big crystal moon
and the twinkling stars when
you have eclipse in your heart
and misery in your eyes?
Today, my dear,
the world has failed to realize
that happiness comes from within.

So sweetheart,
I will not promise you
only the happy days ahead.
For life is the blend of
ecstasy and agony.
But I will assure you that
in every strive,
you’ll find your hand
locked in mine
and together we will make
our future shine.

I will not promise
the expensive pillows
to make you sleep at night.
But I will guarantee that
my arms will be there
to hug you tight.
And, in my arms,
may your eyes shut
with utter pleasure
every single night…

Today,
I want you to know this,
that your smile is my
only Sunshine,
Your ever glowing face
is my full moon.
And, the ever fluttering
big glowing eyes are
my glittering stars..

My love, if today,
you catch my hand and
whisper in my heart
that you love me,
then,
I will need no particular day
as Valentine’s day
to love you and express myself.
Because with you beside me
every day will be my
special day.
Every day will be my Valentine’s day.
Every day I will love you.

I promise that.

THEY have taken the ball of earth
    and made it a little thing.

They were held to the land and horses;
    they were held to the little seas.
They have changed and shaped and welded;
    they have broken the old tools and made
    new ones; they are ranging the white
    scarves of cloudland; they are bumping
    the sunken bells of the Carthaginians
    and Phœnicians:
              they are handling
              the strongest sea
              as a thing to be handled.

The earth was a call that mocked;
    it is belted with wires and meshed with
    steel; from Pittsburg to Vladivostok is
    an iron ride on a moving house; from
    Jerusalem to Tokyo is a reckoned span;
    and they talk at night in the storm and
    salt, the wind and the war.

They have counted the miles to the Sun
    and Canopus; they have weighed a small
    blue star that comes in the southeast
    corner of the sky on a foretold errand.

We shall search the sea again.
We shall search the stars again.
There are no bars across the way.
There is no end to the plan and the clue,
    the hunt and the thirst.
The motors are drumming, the leather leggings
    and the leather coats wait:
                        Under the sea
                        and out to the stars
                        we go.

Fierce is god impenitrable
glad glad glad there is a
Fire up the street called Heaven
There is

A woman wearing only one shoe who is taking
an exhaustive drag of her smoke in the
early morning where birds are
still heard in
                                    !!!!!!cities

A hymnal a
heralded nest of savory berries A quartzstone is trapped in time a myth is made more ridiculous when proven real

Continents wither where the flies glue their

regal canvases on downtrodden earth (missing Pangea)

Or smiles everlasting smiles meanwhile
(Blonde tongues wearing fashioned wigs)
in constant state of beguilement

The Neanderthalic stones will be unforgiving to the REVEREND who has collapsed through his song the song of lead pipedream fantasies of sexless dogma YEAH monkhood yeah Ghat burning holes in twilit schools of thought or no thought at all


I can

hear the collective Faerie outcry that silence has presented itself HEAvier to their wicked careless bodies ok I am innocent of love I love your innocent love I am careless(of their wicked careless bodies)
ResemblingA swans actual duty to die
a swan lies a swan lay
like an even more beautiful swan
on even more beautiful swanny grass
To die by swanlightSUN and MOON white like the swan where we soon listen closely to the swansong a celestialLOVELY
rhythm of gilded forest (((((orchestrals
The swan leaves us in happiness of bright groggy light
                         O (of which in chaos of day I am again innocent)


     The Reverend's desperate gaspings into a  micro -phone for a macro - cosmic prayer idol o idol where is your capability for worship idol o where is my chinstrap o idol where is ****** youth or the romanticized eternal SUMMERS I sing
     O bible O cloudland O where is your telephone operator is they deceased by their own fragrant holines? The church
     Watches the Reverend neverend his television routine of clamoring death odes
     Watches his senility come like an implorical shadow outline watches a demon lick its dreamless lips beyond the periphery of godless dreams
     Watches
     Reverend lose his sight in anInstant
     HeWAILSheWAILSandWAILS can you hear it Thomas De Quincey can you hear the sandbeaches ringing more clearly than the ChurchBells or the ****** Pagoda for torture /

his soul is to sleep in the (mossy)mountain the fire of the (forever)street called HEAVEN the mountain column supporting the sky(swan)gate of heavenHeaven!welcome

   to:

If I had one long wand
That reached far up to the sky
Would have poked it in the cloudland
Can’t see the earth so dry!

Can’t see the earth so dry
Scarred and deeply hurt
If I had a wand to poke the sky
Would have torn the clouds apart!

The parched earth is crying for rain
The soil is a desert track
Need a long wand to break open
The clouds to heal the crack!

The peasant is waiting on his tilled ground
May not his toil go waste
It’s time for the clouds to be earthbound
Save the season’s harvest!

O god give me a long magic wand
To dispel this summer’s looming curse
Force the stubborn clouds to melt and disband
Come down on earth as showers!

I bought myself a kite to fly
I ran through sunny fields
And tried to urge it to the sky
But it skipped at my heels

I leaped and danced for childish years
It never left the ground
I noticed through my childish tears
What's left of it was brown

It was torn in the mud, so it was mangled, it was done
And thus concludes the tragedy of the kite I numbered one.

My second kite was stronger, though.
It caught a mighty gale
my heart flew with it in the yellow
Rainbow sky it sailed

I smiled.  My kite, it seemed to me,
Would always stay as mine
But the sting slipped and I lost my grip
I lost it to the sky

It joined with bubbles and balloons, whatever else is there
In the *****, lonely cloudland in the out-of-picture air.

I still had hope and so I bought
My final silken bird
I told myself that I would soon
Unleash it to the word.

I planned that on a weekend soon  
I’d make it to the field.
The colors all would show again
Just once my schedule cleared

The kite's debut date got pushed back and further back until
It found a final resting place untested in its skill.

I bought myself three kites to fly
The first two meet ill fates
The third one has a dusty shelf
Where it keeps very safe.

Night falls, magical
Dust in-between
The dim and The End,
Flies weightless and
Careless,
Canary cloudland
Carries the
Dots in flight, existing
Here nor there,
Their flicker
Absent
As the day
Is swept away.

It escapes.