In a white book, writing was done with tears,
And so we cannot figure out a single line;
Memorized and though about since early youth,
It eludes one’s wit even as one has aged and greyed.

When mind seeks it out, love turns up in the heart,
When heart pursues it, love is in the mind, escaping wit.
Regarded at close range, love dissipates,
Leave it aside and love turns sad and grieves.

When loving is intense, love resists the long wait,
Like a lightning bolt, it streaks across the dark.
The kiss that sears is a kiss given only once,
And when the river swell, only once will flooding rise.

Love that is timid is a river still and currentless,
No falls nor torrents, no tears nor unbearable loss!
But when love has dared, the heart is swept away,
Honor, wealth and wisdom, love will drown them out!

When love is yet a bud, it heeds an elder’s counsel,
Such is not yet love, for it still sees the light.
But when it bursts aflame, what matter the universe —
That’s real love, so lose yourself in it with all your heart.

When you balk at the threat of ill fortune and hazard,
Truly your wit is lit and your mind at dull alert;
Your love is cautious yet, you have not
learned to really love,
For once in love, the grave itself is heaven’s gate.

Love has eyes, love is never blind,
having learned to love, one’s wounds turn into blossoms,
Love is selfish and cannot bear to share,
It’s either you get it all, or get nothing at all.

“Mother has been watching me, so I cannot write..”
Friend, that’s a sign you have yet to win her love.
But when she dares write even at her very grave site,
She has come to love you more than her very life.

All you, young people. who are in quest of love,
Moths who are fluttering around the lamplight,
Once in the grip of love, danger you will seek out,
Ready to love your wings to the very flames of love.

The gurgle of the coffee maker,
The clink of your spoon on the frigid counter,
The sizzle of bacon residue in a frying pan,

and an egg cracking over it.

The murmurs of the news reporters on the tv,
The distant roar of a train in the background,
The dive into sensory pleasure,

while reality dissipates.

The smell of hazelnut creamer and cinnamon,
The taste of a waffle with buttery syrup,
The warm sun on your face through the window,

today is good; today will be different.

The giggles of the waffles and coffee,
The light conversation and hard laughter,
The feeling of home... within them,

a sudden shift in atmosphere.

The sharp loss of appetite
The grieving of what wasn’t lost
The shared remorse for nothing you’ve done

they tell you that you’re pathetic.

The despair in your mug dropping into the table
The swallowed tears and screams
The chaos that covers every square inch of you

distance between you and hope still stands.

The ***** kitchen and your empty stomach
The distressing moonlight that creeps in the window
The anger in thinking you’re liberated this time

sounds of an empty home stir.

The cold seats that have accompanied nobody
The wallowing roar of silence
The jacket of despair that wears you

your average day.

It's London, all the time,
when at night I close my eyes,
it's when and where I get to roam and dwell,
in the city I know inside-out so well,
where all the narrow streets and cobbled stones,
teacups, pint glasses, and fresh scones,
lend themselves into the misty English air,
of London's ancient, yet so modern flair,
of Piccadilly, and Hyde Park Corner's box,
riding Black Cabs, or a big Red Double-Bus,
evening gas-lamp walks with ol' Saucy Jack,
fish and chips and shandys for a perfect snack;
then the changing of The Guard at Buckingham,
where native Cockney's and young mums with prams,
gather for a view of Lizzy's Royal Family Show;
but, my, how rich the April sun sets and does glow,
over the rolling raging river Thames of yore,
where ancient Roman armies marched to shore,
proclaimed: LONDINIUM! -the regal rest,
of civilised peoples and the Royal Crests,
where lives and deaths would go and come,
yet The City despite all odds has lost and won,
in the hearts, souls and minds of all who take,
great London as their true hearth and home to stake,
and arise and fall the poet's versing nights and days,
whilst Big Ben chimes his toll in the foggy haze;
and alas, London from my slumber dissipates,
to that of which I yearn and love, asleep or wake,
knowing where my home of soul-keep lies divine:
in London, my dear London; it's London, all the time.
__
London:
http://beautyineverything.com/3366195864

Humanity.
Humans talk,
communicate.
Been doing
so since the
first grunts.
For millennia
human sounds
have filled
the airways.
Dissipating
in the wind.
Humanity expanded,
communication
expanded.
Spoken words,
written words,
flying furiously
around the globe.
Communications,
thoughts,
information, most
lost to time.
Some stuck
in the minds
of man
and moved
forward.
Engrams tweaked,
thinking altered.
More people
more words.
Endless
conversations
endless thoughts.
Ideas, thoughts
flying around
the globe at
light speed.
Computers,
Internet,
social media.
Communication
increasing  
exponentially.
Most dissipates
some sticks
gets passed
forward.
Such is the
way
civilization is
constructed.

This empty feeling in me does not want to leave
Refuses to pack its bags
don’t see what it’s trying to achieve
Made a home in me
right in my heart
turned it cold and dark.
I used to run away
                             I was weak
                   I gave in
fell to my knees
I let this darkness overcome and here I lie, broken inside.
The will to fight dissipates
as it     whispers            its convincing
                                                          lies
That here, where broken and empty
reside
Is so much safer than letting myself feel happy inside.
That being this is so low
there is no
                fall or receiving                         blow
I used to run away
      I was weak
                 I gave in
                              fell to my knees.
Now when you come knocking, know that there is no me
I’m gone
this is broken and empty’s home.

In these moonlit hours
I lay here, my thoughts racing
Sometimes it's hard to handle
The realities that I'm facing

My mind is over-tired
Yet my thoughts keep me awake
It's just the way I'm wired
It feels as if there's no escape

Flashbacks hit me like a flash flood
I'm drowning in the memories
My wounds have opened, there is blood
Pouring from my arteries

As the crimson river runs
It feels do or die, this battle
The journey's never any fun
When you're up a creek without a paddle

I see everything so vividly
The visions that dance before my eyes
I'm overcome with melancholy
As I whimper out soft cries

Then just as quickly as it came
The feeling is gone, I'm no longer numb
My body's shaking dissipates
As I brace myself for when the next wave comes

A plant outstretches its frame,
in steady growth and tenor;
A new leaf still wrapped unto itself,
must unfold to meet the world.

A universe appears,
and another dissipates;
Yet a leaf is born,
between the stars and dirt -
from the dust and decay.

A sapling reaches for sun and rain,
as I search for pen and paper.
After all,
We all do what we can.

Ode to sincerity
Unlike a candles flame
Wrath contained,
Dissipates not
                    but
        grows and gains

Wrath contained
A brick in a washing machine
A moth in a closet
Wrath contained,
A plant growing
As Providence's Gardener is perpetually hoeing
With a deft hand doubt's seed Wrath is sowing

Wrath contained,
Is Suffering's Yeast,
To its expansion there's no end
The closed mouth is an open space for Wrath to bend
Sprouts of hope Wrath's malice fends
               Away and blights
With its bligthening might
Grinds light to dust
Creeps under the plant *** it must
Break in the foundation it may
Once cheery now morose
Day-by-day Wrath dissembled its host

If my blood could illustrate,
A picture to the world,
It will tell you the exact state,
How my heart pumps its hurt.

Each ventricle pumps emotions,
Pain, anger, hope,
Up to my brain,
And down to my toes.

Slithering through each artery and vein,
Blood carves my hearts pain,
In my head,
In my head.

Working through each capillary,
It forges anger and rage,
In my bones,
My aching bones.

After its done its work,
It fights back through each valve,
And pours back into the atriums,
Devoid of fury and pain.

It was used up,
Just like my tears,
My wasted energy for nothing,
It brought me no good.
Just more hurt.

And just slowly,
As the pain and anger dissipates from my system,
And fresh blood is packaged and sent,
From my bone marrows,
It brings along a slimmer of hope,
That this new cycle of blood would carry no more pain.

It is true darkness that congregated in the corners of my room that night
And I could not recognize it, only knowing its cousin
Who hovers by streetlights and candles

Deep down, I've always known that the fae dance across my face and talk about me as I fell asleep
I knew what this was, though I did not know enough to fear the messenger
I knew this was a summons
A summons to the moonlight world that shadows the world we know and love

Suddenly, we are far beyond my bedroom
Traipsing through an electric, thorn-filled jungle
My stomach begs loudly of hunger, but it barely registers
With the amount of static sounding in the air
We walk on pathways stripped from the northern lights, pinks and greens, without solid footing
Magnetized forward faster and faster
To destiny

My feet bleed and the true darkness closes behind me, devouring the evidence of my red-stained path

A mist that I had never noticed dissipates
And I see the mushrooms
They glow ghost-white, towering tall as trees
Standing sentinel in a circle, the guardians of such laughter and music as you could never describe-
The music!
It is shattering crystal, raging rivers, and the death song of birds all at once
The darkness pushes me into the circle, and I whirl and twirl to its sound
The erratic beat taking over my heart ryhthm
I throb with its energy, my hands begin emitting their own glow
And the fae begin to take more form around me, in silvers and golds

The music screeches and my heart skips a beat
The circle begins to rumble
Mortal girl comes the echo
My skin feels the kiss of acid rain
You should not have come here
This place is not for the likes of you
A fae with a wreath of thorns adorning its head steps forward
Darkness burning in the sockets where once there may have been eyes

I cannot speak, its stare melting my lips into my face
You have seen too much, you have danced with us
Tell me why I should not hold you here
I look away, desperately trying to gather my thoughts and my voice
The fae would not care about my family, my friends
It would not care about my dreams
The true darkness caresses my hair and I hear its sharp laughter

"I-" I begin

The laughter cuts away, the static dies and my voice hangs in the vaccuum
"I was brought here, by you I presume"
I dare to look the dark fae in the eyes
"I was a dreamer enough to follow"
"You wish to challenge us humans, your endless source of amusement"
"Our torture is your game"
The fae concedes with a thoughtful nod
"But there is no greater torture than to know this place and never come back" I finish
The fae chuckles, as I bite my lip

Clever mortal it mocks
Indeed, go home. I banish you from my lands
May you suffer it adds with a smile

And I am cold
I fall from my bed in a tangle of blankets
In my ear, I hear the wriggling of music
It never quite goes away
The darkness smirks at me from the corners
And I cry softly
For who has ever willingly given up on the fae?
But I hear my sister waking up and I start to smile, despite my sacrifice
For how very few have met the fae and lived?

the light brightening-to-shadow,
gradating

what
can be done,
what
we call it,
when
humans color,
bleach and dye their body's
hair

if only
we could gradate,
gray-date,
our lives,
select the days
we graduate
when
where
the light dissipates into shadow,
bleaching and dying
our lives

when, where,
we could be the being,
the changeling,
dyeing the destiny of our designation*


why would we need poetry?

I am darkness
a souless being trapped
within a world of expectations,
where we live for nothing
aside from our need to please
whomever we deem fit to be
worth suffering for.

Death looms around every corner
sneaking and leaking through
the walls and into the cavernous slits
dug deep into the unstable barriers of my
demented, sickened, disturbed mind.

I see nothing but never-ending black space
spanning for miles in every direction
but, sometimes, a flicker of light illuminates
a single line across my path
scratching through the key holes of
the hundred of doors, always locked,
protecting the world from my wrath and
holding me hostage
until Insanity offers its hand
to lead me to my only escape.

She is light
the brightness I've seen so rarely.
Her world, one of complete coherence
where everything serves its destined purpose
a cold world I know not of
but she is always so warm
so happy
and knows nothing of
the torment caused by that
blinding, taunting ray
trespassing into my world
my darkness
my home.

Sometimes, though,
it breeds hope of a better future
where her purity and
my evil nature can collide
morphing into an electrifying New
and it can be ours, together.

Then the beam dissipates
and I am alone,
again
until my nightmares welcome me back
and devour my soul until I drown
in my own destiny.

The soft blue-green of the moon’s light floods into my bedroom.
The day: over
Time ebbs away, nonexistent
The memories on the shelf fall off
The shattered glass grabs onto the moonlight and hugs it
The light dissipates
It leaves an empty shell, the remainder of light curling and taking off
to cover a faraway land with a soft reassurance of mist

The drowsiness underneath my eyes dwindles away
This is the noise that keeps me awake.
Exhilaration is pumped into my hollow bones
Painful buzzing cuts into my brain at random. The light of the moon fluctuates
The bitter food still alive on my tongue overwhelms my senses
The sharpness of the light penetrates my eye with force. I can’t see anything
The light bends, white and bright, the stars burrow into my iris
My bones are jelly, my brain is a cocoon of abhorrence, my heart is a balloon
It pops.

The beast within me ***** away at the jelly, fed.  
The creature in my brain breaks out and flies away to infest another innocent.
The noise slips away. I’m a paper girl limp on the bed.
Unable to move or feel or think or to have a heartbeat.
Quiet blossoms inside. I exist as a metaphor. I ***** my eyelids shut.
i hope they won’t fall off
The stars wink away. An infinite, dark sky looms overhead.
The darkness is a blanket, firm and reliable, warm. I drape it over myself and vanish.
Entropy lives within me. I nurture it, because it is my friend.
It flies away into its nest of clouds. It is distant. It will not come again for awhile.

Shadows shift onto the floor and murmur.
Dreams await.

© 2018
Xandra Lynch

1.
outside;
the sky is dark blue
fading into black shadow
behind the Sequim Safeway.
raindrops are illuminated
momentarily in the half-light
lingering below the light pole
that rises above the window-line

2.
Some dance mix
of a Kenny G. song
echoes through the building
landing even here,
in this room inside a room.
the abandoned cup
of mountain dew
shakes suddenly and spills
on the Clallam county classified page
on top of the toilet paper holder.

3.
Ten steps
covers the empty monster can
held in dry hands
in a fine layer of dew.
headlights reveal
an ever-present purple tint
to the cloudless sky,
covered only slightly
by the exhaust
which dissipates quickly
in the warmer than usual
humid air.

4.
Twenty nine miles-
the lights of the city soon disappear
and only the houses with porch lights
even seek to confirm their existence.
fog covers the asphalt
halfway back,
the world twists at every turn,
bad eyes and old age to blame.

5.
Fifteen minutes later;
rain covered doors slam
and soon after, so does another door.
but the rain is not forgotten-
it lingers in dry pathways on the skin,
tasting less organic,
but comforting just as much

So..

I am part of something
A middle class youthful bohemian playground
Where support is subtle, where communication is flourishing
Where everyone's expression and hard work is at our fingertips
And where losing your inhibitions takes a drink and a smile

For me.. it is a transitional period of the existential
Questions and day dreams clatter through the sieve of this moment now
Insecurity and the cons of being human slowing my feet

But not stopping them
By learning who I am, why I did what I did when I hated myself
Why I did what I did when I surprised myself
Why I did what I did when I adored myself
I can do more

I don't know what I will be to others
Anything more than an employee, customer, passenger, demographic to the wider society
Anything more than a statistic to those with too much money to know life like I do
Anything more than a short worrying quiet guy lost in thought to those local communities I fall into
Or anything more than a friend to those I have to admit more desire for

I do know though... that in 60 years I may be a bit dead
Whether my soul evaporates into the infinite colour and connection of the universe as a whole
Burns in a torturous eternal injustice because of what a book says on who I should ****
Or simply dissipates its abstract non-existence along with other gooey and chunky bits of me
I've only really got this perception, this body and this life now for definite

So...
While I'm not sure what the overall goal is yet
While I'm not sure who'll wake up next to me
While I'm not sure about a lot of things

I do know one thing
I've got one shot at this, so I better get on with it.

When the big ball upstairs
Has burnt his day's share
And his little sister
Has awoken to shine

When mechanical birds and horses
Have flown to their nests
And the chaos of daylight
Has given way to peace

When the world's voluntary madness
Dissipates into necessary sanity
And the hot unfriendly winds
Sheath their unseen swords

When earth and sky seem to agree
In the stillness of transient dark
Reviving fast-dying hopes
And healing old wounds

When all hell ceases to break loose
Awaiting the rooster's call...
I merry in dreamland
As my tired body sleeps...


© Raphael Uzor

Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
where the limits of unfamiliarity
succumb to the aloof setting
of one room containing two souls!

Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
As dulcet lips and trembling hands
dance across a field of such
unblemished skin and pouncing fragrance!

Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
Where your body doesn't contain you alone,
and mind doesn't contain me alone,
but each of us dissipates into the other!

Oh, of that scarlet succulence!
Where joy is no longer a word,
but the sound of a pant lost between
clenches of your hand and body!

Love is a lot like mist.
It swirls and dances,
Wavers and blinds,
Until it finally dissipates
and fades away

Ya Know I've Heard It Said By Older Heads...
COMPETITION Is Part of Human STRENGTH... !!!

That's TRUE I Guess But Now Detect...
Competitions NOW Have Got DEFECTS... !!!
And DON'T Give Wealth To Humanity's Health... !!!

I'm Older Now So See Just How...
Competitions... DROWN...
Because of CLOWNS...
Now CLAIMING Crowns... !?!

As If They're... KINGS... ?!?
When They're Just.............
COMPETING... WEAKLINGS... !!!!!

Like Heads NOW Kicking Lyrics...
That LACK The Depth And Slickness...
In Verse BIG VIRGE Be Bringing... !!!

My Poems Leave Heads RINGING... !!!
Because My Words Keep STINGING... !!!
Like Cobras That Be... SPITTING... !!!

In The Faces of FAKES Who Just Can't Take...
STRONG BRANDS of SHARP Wordplay... !!!!!!

They QUICKLY Run For Cover...
When They DISCOVER The Rocks I'm Under... !!!

Cos' My Venom EXTENDS...
... PROBLEMS For Them... !!!!!

Because My Chem'... HITS Ventricles...
And Blends To FEND Like Tentacles... !!!!!

That STING These Kids Like JELLYFISH... !!!!!
A... " Man o War "... For SURE... !!!!
When I HIT Shores Competitors ROAR...

"Okay Big Virge, No More, NO MORE !"......

Or Like DURAN... "No Mas No Mas !"

When I Start To PEPPER...
Their Head Like... LEONARD...
Cos' I'm The... Sugar Ray...
Wordplay... HEAVYWEIGHT... !!!!!!!!

TOO HEAVY To Be Found...
On... ANY Dub Plate... !!!!!!!

My Competition Dissipates......................... ..............
And Disintegrates Because They're AFRAID...
of The Kind of Wordplay I Choose To DISPLAY...
... That DESTROYS These FAKES... !!!!!

Competition They CLAIM...
To Want... ALL DAY... !!!

Til' I STAKE My Claim...
To Enter... CENTRE STAGE... !!!
And HIT LAME BRAINS...
With My... MIND SPRAY... !!!!!

I DAMAGE These FOOLS...
Just Like... " JERU "...

Compete With... WHO... ?!?
I'm The Doctor... WHOSE...
Competitive Words Have BIGGER BOOTS...
Than... COMPETITIVE JERKS...
Whose Verse... Lacks Worth... !!!

COMPETITIVE Dudes...
Who Were Born To LOSE... !!!!!!

I Compete With... ME...
NOT GLORY Hunting Freaks... !!!

Because...

EVERY TIME I Rhyme Alphabet Letters...
I'm Trying To BETTER My Form of VENDETTA...
To STAND For... MORE...
Than THESE WHORISH Trend Setters... !!!

I'm A VERBAL GO GETTER...
NEVER Late But... FOREVER... !!!

A Man Whose VIEWS...
COMPETE To... CONSUME...
VOLUMES In Rooms...
Who CHOOSE To REFUSE...

WORDPLAY I USE...
I'm A Bit... " CONFUSED "... ???

When It Seems They CHOOSE...
To BELIEVE It's... COOL...
When These FOOLS Exude...
SO MUCH... ATTITUDE...
About... " How They DEFEAT ! "...

EVERYBODY They Meet...
When It Comes To... FREESTIES'...
That They KICK Over Beats... !!!!!?!!!!!

They're QUICK To APPLAUD...
These... Lyrical FRAUDS... ?!?
Who COMPETE To Hear ROARS...
When They're... Treading The Boards... !!!

COMPETITIVE... Actors... !!!
Kind of Like An X Factor...
For... Wannabee Rappers...
Who … LACK The Bite...
of..... VELOCIRAPTORS...... !!!!!!!!

As For The... Gun Clappers...
They Take JOOK' Like SLAPPERS... !!!!!!

When... Like A SLACK Gangster...
They Get SHOT In The CRAPPER...
Cos' Their **** LOST It's HAMMER... !!!!!!

I Make These FOOLS... " S T T T TAMMER "... !!!!!
When I Utilise... GRAMMAR...
That HAMMERS Like BANNER... !!!

OKAY I Mean... THOR... !!!
COMPETING... Fa' SURE... !!!
When It Comes To A Cause...
WORTH... FIGHTING For... !!!!!

I COMPETE On... Spirit Levels...
That DISHEVEL These DEVILS... !!!
Who... CLEARLY Seem To REVEL...
In Being Given... MEDALS...
For NONSENSE That They PEDAL... !!!

Like PRIEST My HEAVY MENTAL...
Is How I... BURN And SETTLE...

Scores With... BROADS...
I Mean... GIRLS Of Course... !!!

Who... CLEARLY LIKE To See...
THESE Gangster Wannabes'...
COMPETING For Their *****... !!!!

NO MORE Do I CONCEDE... !!!
To PANDER To Their Schemes... !!!

My Competition FEEDS...
OFF MORE Than They Could Be... !!!!!!!!

My Competition NEEDS...
To Make A... BETTER ME... !!!!!

NOT To PROVE To... " Peeps' "...
That I'm BETTER Than Jay-Z... !?!?!

I'd RATHER Be... " The V "...
Whose VENDETTAS COMPETE...
AGAINST The... Powers That Be... !!!!

And FIND A... HIGHER Mission...
Than Being... SOLELY DRIVEN...
To Fighting For... A PITTANCE... ?!?

In PETTY.............

……. " COMPETITION " …….

I await tomorrow's world,
the promises and hope;
that come to all believers,
as with today, we cope.

I await the sunshine,
that never fades away;
that dissipates the clouds,
that obscures our way.

The day when troubles end,
when all's replaced with joy;
that I knew in innocence,
when I was but a boy.

I await tomorrow's world,
when the morning star will come;
and our restless adversary,
will completely be undone.

I await with prayers and song,
to usher in that day;
when the world will be at peace,
when they will know the Way.

outside, my
professor lights a pipe beside the daffodils,
and we make small talk about the cigarette butts in the dirt
and the history of natural science.

He travelled south in a small blue wagon,
for no particular reason
except the summers are dry
and the air is silent,

….



inside mould grows on glass
windows, wood rotting damp
dissipates the rain through its splinters
cracked rooms containing muses, alight
with the glow of creation, reinvention

I am taught to eat with chopsticks at a fast food restaurant
each Friday night; I learn
to break them in two before I eat,
dissect myself in certain manners of precision
indulge in cakes with sprinkles
spires
lining streets
the lamps in the evening
dull for flashes of traffic
souls in sachets about to be added
in a hot drink, or instant frappe
we dissolve



into particles
about
the place in
certain manners of precision
break in two before
we indulge
impart
chromosomes collaborate

in the rooms,
in the mage’s quarters
dollar bills are sniffed and sorted
LSD and Ecstasy crossed, contorted
butterflies have patterns in conversations
on their wings, in teacups, sipping Spanish ***

drag my son up a hill to **** him,
in the ash tree foliage, faces in the sky
and ask of grace
deliver me to the divine class of men
what am I if only captive to contagion?

After all, I spread across windows
like mould each hour multiplying
to become sporadic, spatial,
discovering the heart’s variation

insofar as we are variable
asking Sophie, my daughter, to empty
the dishwasher, I pray she wonders
why we have cups
of coins in our pockets
why we ache

atoms
about
the place in
certain manners of precision
break in two before
we indulge
impart
chromosomes collaborate

in a moment
sadness dissipates with a smile
because true happiness lies within

in a moment
indifference ends with care
for each soul has meaning in God’s plan

in a moment
pride kneels to humility
as charity brings hope to despair

in a moment
mistrust yields to sincerity
for love conquers the demons of anxiety

in a moment
blindness turns into sight
once belief confides in the Word of wisdom

in a moment
death becomes a new beginning
as the soul journeys to the heavens…

1
**I like your light makeup,
mangled logic that never
served its intended purpose,
the svelte figure that creates
an awareness indelible on proportion,
and the intelligence you have
to keep it just as petite
all through the years
the out law male chauvinist, that  lurks in me is pleased,
lopsided analysis of contemporary affairs
you make,  allows me
to intervene, put you back to the track.
I dig the coiffure that makes the birds think,
its their nest, newly built.
Your purple prose I learned to like,
as it gets more and more evocative.
Syrupy songs you write, and sing
used to get one bored easily
no more, your emotions now are
more rooted and move me very much.

you know better than any one, how much I love bitter concoctions you cook.
2
But then
I realize that the cadence you create is unique,
you look life at its *** and frown,
your poems though rare, show plenty of evidence
of quirky charm, which I like.
Your weepy stories and convoluted plots too
I learned to like, all these are just habits, right?
They bear a stamp of your originality I can vouch,
love your starry eyes when each is filled with admiration,
for me in those special moments,
when I pull you out of quagmires
time after time.
3
I can't take eyes off your face,
exuding such innocence,
that vouches your genuineness,
each time that assures me that
you cannot ever be bad,
unless you want to portray
yourself that way cleverly.
Though not my cup of tea,
I love the gizmo culture you love,
your craze for computer games,
(though bit bizarre at this age!)
I enjoy it and get fascinated when you go too far.
You love to make love in the dark,
I later learned to appreciate  its tactile advantages,
and encouraged you unleash the panther in you, on me
though I love to do it with lights on
so that we can see the rainbow
the moment it spreads on ,
till it dissipates and we dive deep in to sleep.
4
You touched my depth in a way different,
made it possible to love the woman you are-
the way you are,  I love it
because, you are unique,with all imperfections
together we are complete.

He is everything I remember
and everything I had once tried to forget
rumbling engine and tires on the wet street.
I am shoes in the grass, kicking leaves
walking through cold drizzle and gasping wind, dark sky on a moonless night.

He is the blue pickup truck with the window down
his face lit by a cigarette drag,
something I’ve seen a thousand times before
handsome face warmed by the orange glow.
I settle into my spot beside him as stagnant cigarette film settles on me
silently clinging to my clothes and swirling into my hair.

Our fingers brush as he hands me that glass pipe
smoke wisps twirl out of our lips and mingle together
rushing out of the doors into the night sky as we walk together under it,
now we’re inside and he is the touch I’ve been anticipating.

The last thing I see is brown eyes and I feel
his kiss bristling my face, consuming me like we will never experience this again.
He is blonde hair and a brown beard, he is strong, he is tall. He is everything I wanted.

I am satisfied, carefree, if only for a moment.
Studying the lines of his face, how they have changed, the startling
way he is his grandfather’s face, showing through those dark eyes.
When he leaves, he is a kiss that dissipates
with the sound of the engine turning down the block.

I am alone. The mirror displays a flushed, smiling face
with tones of pink and peach, silently studying the details.
I see my mother and grandmother in my own reflection
I see their age making way down my skin.
Marbled green eyes, dark in color,
mine yellow flecked.
my mother’s mixed aqua.
my grandmother’s deep green.

My pulse rushes with the realization that it goes so fast
My eyes fill with tears as I imagine looking into the eyes my own children and theirs
I picture those deep green tones reminding me of generations past
I breathe in realizing what I’ve seen and what I feel I need.
I am the details and complexity of life, one of many heirs.                                           {360 words}

It’s a cold, windy night
Its eerie whispers sound
Escaping from the crevices of the metal clanking beside
Into the air, the anarchist blankets the town

It plummets meticulously into the streets
Foretelling the horrors near
In its rasp, harsh voice
The stench of which it shall bear

And as it falls upon his face
Its companion it does meet
It sweeps away the cold sweat
From the hazed figure it shall last see

Enraptured by the hellish glow
Whipping around, the figure it does embrace
Lured by the ambitions profound,
Quenching its thirst, the corpses it shall grace

Oblivious of the visitor beside
Determined, he strides forward
Minusculed by the hardened look, the steady hands
Swaying wildly, his shadow follows

The velvety night stretched across
Harbouring the shimmering jewels beneath
Its craft unduelled lays in the dunes of time
Faithfully reflected upon its sheen

And though into its dreary depths
Lay treasures, mysteries to uncover
Envisaging the satanic glow below
Grabbing the night beside, the jewels quiver

The white sphere coruscates, fills the sky
A heavenly glow emanates
The rays rivet down, searing through the misty night
Kissing themselves, lay dazed

Like the others, nor the water's at peace
Still visions it faithfully reflects
Trying to behold her lover's image inside
The sphere dissipates, the morbid night left

And he trudges along, a fixed purpose
His hollow thoughts, him they guide
Like darkness to a blind man
Driving the dead soul, his malice

Lighting the remnants of his bitter past
He treads upon the carpet of emotions laid
Each strand captivates, to avenge
Each strand a woeful tale it says

Some forlorn iridescent strands of the carpet
Of fragile memories prized, of bliss
Of the trance of her charm, the vista unbound
The touch of her lips, the emblazoned kiss

Their contact, it frightens him
Onto the winding path he carries on
And the destination nears, illuminated
By the ire of vengeance, of the armour he dons

Without hesitation or conscientious thought
He opens fire on the innocuous crowd
His sadist bloodshot eyes staring into the void
And with each drop spilled, for more the metal growls

Cries of agony awake the night
Mangled bodies strewn across
And pleas of mercy and help muffled
Of wind's insane mirth, from the present it had sought

The crimson hue of the landscape
The glistening red it boasts
Fulfilling a painter's dreams, the mound of bodies
Seeds of death plants it has sown

Mingled with gore, the mud beside
And marred bodies within it trapped
And the dreams that shall never be fulfilled
And memories that shall never be cast

A spectacle of plight of men and women he witnesses
A greater good he achieves
Corpses of dead infants clinging to their mothers
He fulfills the dream of his creed

Remorse and anguish dawns
He gazes the eyes of a lifeless girl
And the troubled memories again hit
And onto his feet the carpet unfurls

Tears trickle down, his features soften
Picking the metal that has long been part of his
He looks up, announcing his arrival
Falls with a mundane finality as it hits

The sky, a plate
in kindly blue,
smooth
as the ceramic face
of this, my swimming pool;

the bobbing palm
glazing the back
of my starfish shape
like white liquid icing;

sweet, the water's after-taste;
gently
pungent smell lodged
in the nape of my neck

I will wash the blue
off my skin, in a tiled doll-box
cubicle
I will smell the smell fade
out of my fizzled wet-strung hair
just as sugar dissipates
into the hot
nothingness of drinks.

I will pretend to forget,
then forget
I was offered a plate
in a summery shade, bordered by
tree branches
I was in that half
amniotic vessel -
weightless

as a seed pearl in
an ocean or a lover
exhaling in the depths
of a kiss;

a posy of
air on liquid.

I take from the rich
And I give
To the richer
Grow money trees
And then watch the world wither
I've slithered
In gardens of green
Dripping red
With a purity hood
Draping over my head
I have poisoned the fountain
Of youth
To retain
My control of this endless
Monopoly game
As my capital gains
A skyscraper a day
To the skyrocket
Stock market
Locke's do I pray
Upon all to be blessed
With lavish excess
But succession of kings
My investment ******
To breed wealthier nations
Uncommon in man
Through unhealthier rations'
Invisible Hand
Do I muppet the mouths
And harp on the heartstrings
As I tug on the chains
Of the slaves
Freedom rings
And that fat lady sings
All she wants
I will cling
To this power
With eagle-lied,
Vulturous talons
Devour
The will
And then **** the bills,
Billing blood that I spill
With impunity
Robbery,
Poverty
Property
I am the law
There is no order stopping me
No cherry topping me
No global powers’
High towers
Are topping me
No master forces endorsed
Are out-shopping me
Spending spree
On the lost souls
Now to bending knee
Fall
And enthrall in the terror
Of my urban sprawl
Making maggots of masses'
Automaton dreams
Into my gilded ages'
New pyramid schemes
You can call me a liar
Truth is
No concern
To the one who reigns fire
With oil to burn
Down upon the deniers
Until they all learn
I'll recruit body bags
To preach life to the choir
And when the screen lags
Train these dogs to play dead,
Lay their own on a wire
In so doing shred
The carnage they desire
So I can play God
And with demons conspire
A masterful plan
To command the economy
Zombie hive mind
Get in line
For lobotomy
My progeny
Multiply to consume
And consume
And consume
'Til the ******* last fume
Dissipates into space
The good fortunes of Earth
All amounting to waste
With the mother who nurtured you
***** and disgraced
The four steeds
Of Apocalypse
Nothing but paste
For I win every time
I with you
Humans race

When I know that I can string
that bead next to that bead

and it will appear as art

and you can't say any differently

Because well postmodernism and post-postmodernism

And well, because this is how I experience my heart

So **** an egg.

This is ART.