The forested breeze blew eastwards. On each swing of the wind, the birds flew and fluttered. Each of their wings swaying to find a harmonious balance. The sweet melody of ethnic hymns from the native village rose above the trees. The sequenced output with equalised acapella became an anthem that ruled the forests.The gravelled path structured it's way between the trees right to the heart of the village.

The village elder sat outside the middle hut. His hut stood out from those encircling it. Humbled in stature but yet symbolically decorated with colourful redness of the roses. The beautiful scented ambience rose to fuel the air within and around. The door of the hut was formatted with sculptured inscriptions that had a covert meaning. A story line about the long historic lineage of leaders. The entrance of the doorway was guarded by two warriors. Each of them had a shield and spear, alert and portraying courage. Their bodies were bare ready to attack the enemy, their groins fully formed and covered with *****. The sight of the hut itself was magnificent...... it's aura radiant with an embodiment of hereditary and hierarchical authority.

As the village chief watched the birds sway and whistle, he sat on his antique stool. In the openness of the nature he appeared puzzled. As he shrugged his symbolic leopard hide on his back.... it swung side to side. Still in situ, but there was something about it's presence that nagged him. He touched it and then speedily moved his hand from it. He then raised his voice. "Amita!"

His voice echoed and roared penetrating all the homesteads. By the time the volume of the echo subsided he called out again "Amita, Amita, Amita!"

Amita came running and knelt at the feet of the Chief. She replied "Yes Chief Hashi. I am here for your service Sir!"

Amita was a 21 year old girl. She was wearing a straw skirt. Her arm was tattooed with a prominent artistic representation of a snake swinging from the tree. The shades of the red snake pictured on the hues of the green tree. This symbolised that she was a servant and lived at the Chief's Quarters. Amita had sacrificed her life as her lineage did to serve the Chief and his household. A dedication of servanthood to the Chief and him alone.

Amita bowed as she knelt, her bare ***** ***** and shadowing the Chief's feet. The chief looked at Amita as if hyptonised by the touch of her *******. He glared at her beauty, the outstanding womanhood she poised. After a long pose of silence the Chief responded, " Amita, can you fix my hide ensuring that it's attachments are secure"

There was a level of vulnerability that the chief showed Amita. He appeared to be humble, a denudation of authority, that very call of submission. There was evidently a reciprocal of roles as Amita raised her eyes from the ground to face the Chief. As their eyes met the Chief hastily paused and froze as if speechless. As he gathered his senses he was firmly able to look at Amita and said, " Can you join me inside my hut please?"

Amita remained kneeling as the Chief stood up from his stool. Chief Hashi steadily walked to the doorway of his hut. Pace after pace, stroll after stroll. As he walked by the doorway the warriors raised their spears to his presence. He was proudly ushered to his exquisite residence. He then  faced the warriors and asked them to leave guard. Chief Hashi requested, "Can you come back after two hours." As the guards walked away the Chief in his freedom danced around, hysterically moving his hands multi-directionally.

Chief Hashi opened the window to his hut. This was adjacent to where Amita was kneeling. In his vulnerability he whispered, "My child Amita, get up and join me inside my hut. The door is open and ajar.... always for you my queen."

Amita stood up from the kneeling position and run her way into Chief Hashi hut.

i spent
so long
searching
for the universe
never realizing it was
hiding in disguise perhaps
that explains why i was always
so     very      lost      in       his     eyes.

directionally challenged
athens is the only city
her feet knows,
she wanders down alleyways
undiscovered
but familiar
and sits beneath an orange tree.
she takes one plump
sunset shaded fruit,
peels back thick skin,
juice gushes down her arm.
yet she smells cypress trees,
olive oil offerings, and cinnamon.
she whispers prayer,
nimble fingers pressing
a golden owl.

I came across a chimera yesterday.
It had the legs of a beautiful egyptian *** goddess

She covered them with pants she had bought that morning
My favorite color,
Pistachio cream
She had no idea what my favorite color was,
luck should have it,
She's perfect.
Her personality had traits of every woman
I'd ever fallen in love with
Alphabetical From

Anxiety to
Brand new
Comfortable
Directionally challenged
Embarrassed when I caught her smiling
Flirtatious
Goregeous
Home schooled
Intelligent
Jealous
Kitchen working
Lavender loving
Mistake making
Neglected
Open hearted
Passionate
Queer
Religious
Self-analyzing
Takes off her wedding ring
Understanding
Venomous
Worried about everything
Xerox'd onto her
Yeilding Body.
Zodiac stamped

Like she was made especially for me.
she wasn't...
She belonged to somebody else.

~~~~~

She told me I represented the end of the world.
We saw shooting stars and the only thing we could wish was
"Please let this night last forever."

Because once we climbed down our milkcrate staircase
We had to deal with the consequences.

Our lips were so close that I could tell her breath was sweet,
like poison.

She gave me her body.
Pressed it against me like we
Were one whole creature.

I love making woman glow.
Love seeing woman cry.
Not for some sick sadistic pleasure
because ironically,
I hate lying.
When you're glowing or crying
At least you're real.

She was so...
Real...
Just like the rooftop we layed on.
The shooting stars,
The kiss.
Her begging me to hate her.
Touches and moans.
Warmth and the softness of her skin.

Now, I'm just a name
On a list of regrets
That she passes to him
In her worst nightmares.

Before her I thought I couldn't love again.
Broken to the idea of relationships.
Meaningless pleasure.
At least now
I'm broken for a different reason.

how many times do i have to run myself into the ground
(and if i do, will anything grow?)
i am hickory, ivory, take me and sculpt me or carve me
tell me what i'm needed to be
i want to know someone will play an f sharp
or use a wooden spoon for their soup for the homeless
i don't want to cut myself down, spread myself out into a self-help book
i'm not selfish
i don't get satisfaction from that
i take my temperature like Neal A Maxwell described
and i find that i'm still not happy
i pull myself up to see my roots
i know where i've been, but not where i'm going
and for someone who is directionally challenged,
that's pretty concerning.
i am a goldfish clumsily dropped into the ocean
i've never been in open sea
i am a broken-in horse outside the fence
will someone please tell me what's beyond the next horizon
or do i have to get there to find out?

I want to know your dreams

I want to memorize every fiber of your being,
your every bone and every muscle, your
every word and every story

I nuzzle my nose in the nape of your neck,
tickled by silky soft hair, and
breathe you in deeply.

My lips are learning you

I marvel at your existence for uncounted and
seemingly nonexistent amounts of time

I can have a conversation with you
by looking in your eyes

We needn't say anything
but show, see and
understand
to feel

You're a glorious piece of music and
I want to learn every nuance of your essence.
I want to remember the feeling on the pads
of my fingers before I sound each string.
Glorious

I trace your skin with my fingertips to
learn every dynamic of your body
from forte to pianissimo

I bask in your kind eyes and swim in your smiles.
I shiver at your electric caress and melt in your loving embrace.
Divine excellence...

At green diamond tenth
in the hustle bustle jungle,

time brought sunsets, tall buildings,
relative heat waves and adventures,
it brought love and delicious food
with interwoven fingers
and storylines stampeding
through the streets, seen
from the landing of
our first kiss

then snow and a hat-scarf,
your name embroidered with
threads of love by the hands
of your grandmother,
and mittens that turn
into fingerless gloves

We walked past my car twice
just because we enjoyed walking with each other,
or maybe I'm just directionally challenged
and occasionally oblivious,
but it's definitely both

We never put our pens to the page
but we snuggled like a puzzle and
painted poetry in our smiles

You make me feel so comfortable
I could melt into you like honey on a
fresh piece of toast before a walk in
the snow to a four hour train ride to
another chapter of your book

We were together nearly 18 hours
and it felt like forever and a second
at the same time and

I'm still tingling...

(14) I eat fleas. (15) I have V.D. ~ A cherry pie hides cherries until the lid comes off. It's that way with a primary wife. She bears no fault with her serious threats to butcher you, to disown you, to **** you for no reason. Once the pudding's turned, the plastic spoon is on stand-by. Each day roaches are crushed, snakes & chickens are beheaded, pigs are bled to make linoleum. There's a hole in my floor. Porky must die! Unwanted toe nails are a pain. They're nothing like teeth because loose teeth aren't shod in shoes. Let me enjoy the beaches that you have in your huge and intelligent brain. Ashanti is my middle name except I spell it with a C between the S & H, and instead of ending with an I, mine ends in EY. I got hairy ****. That's good from a young opossum's point of vantage. The freshest o'-woe-is-me introspective poem winds, & whines, its way "whinily" into French ports veered directionally.