Drowning in a cesspool of wishes
Destiny swims no farther than fishes.
Diligence seduces the tide,
She elopes, makes her a bride.

The singing bird sings,
The humming bee stings.
Inactivity kills the sweet dreamer but
Also exalts not the lazy ****.

Puff your blunt, roll up your sleeves
Kiss your tools, empty your sheaths
Pray your hands grind the right mill,
Your hustle will have you chill.

DECEMBER DAFFODILS

******* blossom
on the dancing washing line
December daffodils

her blouse
wearing only weather
blooms bustily

all her clothes
mimic the body
that has worn them

"Come...dancing!" hollers the wind
"HeeeehAWWWW!' shout the clothes
line dancing

an infatuated ra-ra skirt
jumps off line
goes solo

ra-ra skirt elopes with wind
over the wall it goes
scaring the cat

******* cling on
for dear life
oooOOOPS...they're down

a bouquet of *******
scatter over lavender bushes
daffodils dancing

now the wind falls
asleep
the clothes ashamed of themselves

a pink *******
perched rudely
upon the rue

I go gather 'em up
the ******* blush
at their misbehaviours

the ra-ra skirt
knows the game is up
comes quietly

only the daffs surprised
to find themselves here at all
giving themselves airs and graces

daffs yell in yellow
bow their lovely heads
pray to whatever God made them

"Dear Lord..." they passionately pray
"Thank you for giving us
this delightful December!"

The tiniest piece of dust
that's us
No more than an iota
"until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law" (Mt 5:18)
Our hopes and dreams become anecdotes.
Glittering, sparkling silver particles
dancing freely with an abandonment
not seen since childhood.
Time elopes freely, either quickly or slowly.
Dependant on our experience with it.
Is there substance to time?
Are we it's substance ?
Us, the spots, flecks, mites and motes of humanity?

Time erodes what once was
Law, pain, pleasure, life
We remember items long turned to dust
A scintilla of us remain along with our one
grain of thought, lest we forget, we are just
sparkling dust floating around waiting to land
to be turned into the sands of time.
Shoals of grandiose people
ignoring the sermon on the mount
The mote and the Beam.
We see others but not ourselves
We see dust but do not clean it
We see sunlit motes dancing
But we do not dance for after all
For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.
—Matthew 7:1-5 KJV

Lambasted by the bushwhacking shambles of potsherds burrowed beneath enchanted rhapsodies of sunken Earth lurks a might unleashed by the preemptive dirges of Heaven
Shattering the weight of mismeasure adaptive to apt remarks of conservatory stellar repartees gilded in the flombricks of insuperable gammon wed to the divorce between mammon and guardian treasure etched by revets of colorful nuance but colorblind fortitude chalky yet with scattered sound blinking in the wink of intelligentsia a thousand parsecs of understanding in milliseconds of orbit
The periphery of forgotten stars bereaved but informed of circular axioms of axiolative thermolysis bellowing stoked smokestack locomotives of hibernal clairvoyance dare to wonder beyond limited or enhanced pulchritude the denizens of thievery stolen in a flashbang grenade of a new Grenada of fustilugs gabbling in flushed rosy red tongues of frenzy or aplomb what lurks beyond centurion sentinels of robotic half-witted half-baked semi-cooked bludgeons of cruel insensate irony withheld by vulcanized drapes of curtailed curglaff fashioned by kneaded distance and suspended for heaved awakening at riometer’s knock barnstorming the crude churlishness of the foreign at trespass of the inane scaled down by infamies unstated and flanged to appropriate provisions of measure that conquest lurks behind recess and all is grafted from the callous pachyderm skin of absolution cozy to remedies but aloof from necessities of pang and Tang rollicking magpiety like a rotten pastime aged past its due.
Yet the batting average of the uncanny visitor undaunted by glaring photogenic record balks at precedent and aims to lollygag his chicanery roundhouse above the ricochet of enamor to whilded terminus at circular diamonds soaring illimitable skies boundaries to another nothing beyond the past of something worthy of pearls piggish in appetite for oysters to inhabit
Yet these cloistered vacuums between the pleonexia of the avarice of retches of chyme and the digestion of complete guarantors of shielded heterochrony wassail on dreams Titanic and sunken living repeatedly in revised stereodimensional waves of registry beyond fundus hijacked by towering dimensions ulterior to the profaned foresight of the wretched dimensions of reprehensible coteries belonging lost even when fetched by glimmers of the profound.
The riches of aberrant mobilized fleets swung into tether pole centripetal flictions of swarpollock surpassing credibility and peace surmounting mountebanks of petty finicky itches of cretaceous extinction mapped to qwersy frugal mathematical jokes recoiling at rebarbative manifest destiny belong to the records of soundracketeer trivialization of malleable gold fashioned from Whisky Bar encounters with goldmines ascertained in magic by the suspense of upholstered dramaturgy lurking beneath tall crestfallen visagists who toss and bandy about in tempests of curdacted flow emissary and envoy to flajousts emergent from the verdure of aboriginal machinery fumbled by human ergonomic chicanery espoused by asylum rather than touted as marksman prestige flippant by inordinate gavels ****** asunder into delignated copper-brass keys of foreboding prisons on sinking ships for counterfeit litanies of bogus warning meeting inclement poverty to a drawn sine in the sand vacillating on purpose but intransigent in declension.
Starlet gnashes of odontoloxia wavers of tangential tendentiousness escaping the orbit of enumeration by sly remarks surprising the elective prerogative for convergent autumn to skittish paces of fast-forward beating the brumal bears in their gelid lollygag reminders why the 2nd protects the 1st and the primacy of interposition is the immediacy of flexed muscular DeLoreans cavorting with fringes of unfurled destiny in flashbang instants between the space among malingered pauses among secondary waves of betrayal shift the curious rip tide of stretchgraves too ennobled for widescreen yet narrowly faint in their promontory illusions as mantelpieces of emblazoned scarlet A’s for nothing more than a tempestuous flair with stigma but simultaneously the realization of true dreamy blues escalating around tensions finessed into ****** before drooping into the droll 1850s as the balderdash of detriment belonging to the salvo of picturesque still-life expressionism dripping troudasque in antiquity with flairs of impertinence celebrated more by melodrama than by billows of industrial hinderbaggle toxic to the stated alarmism of trinkochre preventing treony by the warbles of songbirds hemmed in by bushwhacking galactic police forces of granted licentiousness for backbites in the feral canine drollery of aged literacy chosen over youthful foofaraw belittled by retches of attentive brevity rather than protracted obtuseness: neither ideal for the gravity of aborning centuries
Yet we dally in convergent esprit filibustering rhymed cadavers of cadence for prurience in ebullient parvenu damsels vacant from the setting but entranced by the galloping herds of buffalo formidable with warmth because of death and locomotive drive-by shootings Daphne wouldn’t miss.
Yet what Mission Impossible has a BioCyte worthy of henpecked ransom and detached villainy of a trespassed appendix bursting in the Young crowd much to the awakened dismay of the colored affront to black-and-white hubris finicky in oligochrome yet fainter yet than stellified bronteums burgeoning in generativity separated by inherent gulfs of heterochrony balking at submissions fished by loaves of interest in the hambasket of aswallone fractious to redshort individualism in the subhastation of Jurassic prowls of replication hibernal for millions of extinct permanence scowling only by the mandibles of crackjaw Samson yielding his jaunty hair to flummoxed Cutthroat Collapses trimming yardstick furloughs of pleckigger for demotic flavork above fishy warbles of tilted pretense vagrant to everybody simultaneously renowned for arrested cacophony but bridled by few examinations barnstorming teetotalers with haunted patrons of aged wine speaking redivivus in contemplation.
Measured glare radioactive to lizards beneath Mojo Grooves monikers fielding “fly away” as transcendental harpsichord anagrams filter through lavaderos of hackneyed nockerslugs berating illusion for conflation in the influx of dacoitage among Vikings who swim flanked by sonic blares of innocuous dolphins floating dead by the carnage of bloated whales and ridiculous spates of welter above conscience ragged with tetherball futility.
Sparring with engastrimyths sapping the sapwood of sappy banality for toonardical lullabies that pacify opposition more than the Pacific is internecine to volcanic tirades of seismotic jolts of burgeoned awakening I vanquish petty sneakthievery with the unspoken power of a Tweed that masquerades not on ******* but on virtual rhymes cascading throwaway brown-brick fifties collapse on Dagon armed with gnashing poise against guttural gubbertushed victimized flippant fantasias arrayed to brook the decrepit streams of my elevated retinue for staged intrepid barnstorms against phony assassinations to prove petty Edison powerhouses clairvoyant in even their specious participles of quantum irony decisive in fliction marveling at sensible conveyor belt beltways infested by sluggards of inferior hives contrary to every inclination of self-edified skyscraper invented by the mettle of industrious man
So swanky in boast but gingerly in insightful discretion I careen ping-pong victories into a plevisable fortune of Bubba Gump wealth and Fortune Magazine ostentation as the ringleader in Barnum’s neutered circus that never spays a single sword of creation in the barnacles of progeny and progress frogmarched by cruelty and vehement in suppositions of craven popinjay popples of a whangam metropolitan artifice tinsellated with angles of trim prance above suburban ecstasy in transcendent flash and peerless reaches of stratosphere above mundane plaid macaroni witeless in the sterling grace of foreign domestication of livable conditions abiding by aborning stardom.
Harriet Tubman flowers on the bedside of ****** seances of 70’s Parisian cafes gerrymandered by hobohemias of herculean heft squaring account with encompassed brevity in byword dazes with ***** futures yet to court the cordial consensus in dodged drafts of fumiduct riots bailing upon New York Time for 44th street colored incineration of an orphaned Africa embodied in a totemic titan with reninjuble peerless majesty compromised by a frapplank in immodest incisive harpricks of fumbled swerves against the original proclamations anniversary to Boston Indians revolting against Manifest Destinies magnified in incidental clarity by bestowed churches fuming with rampant clairvoyance tamed by the grisly realism of intermittent thaumaturgy swaddled by the reconnaissance of eventual warps blistering in milliseconds to overturn the ultimate row that the mire always wades through in impoverished egestuous profligate convenience of hamstring declension against chary mettle in scruples by elementary riddles in precise junctures of sanctity the bodewash of slick partisan gibes of a puppet show vampire avenging Sarah Marshall. Harriet Tubman is an overblow of subniveal pickets of defensive clarity to immemorial churlish katzenjammer of a protracted flux capacitor dynamos in abolished feral groves of bohemian legend rather than ignoble rhapsody flirting with apartheid’s chosen engineers whittling an indelible scourge of hatred rather than a revived simian immunity scalded with potboilers of sveldtang water scorching like Helsinki after Stockholm goes up in conflagration over bonanza of wednongue dative duress in impregnated purpose skanky with ministered drivel of doytined attempts to flicker a switch exorcised by the integrity of neuroscience besides an intransigence of exuberant interruption of warped logics of pataphysical coarse arenas for submerged vapid Yellow Belly Pie Slingers aimed at 7/11.
Broadside bruisers aim at fracked 80s heyday like a Hey Bulldog reminiscence on a quaint suburban joke of alien freebooters in Franc Swiss gloss swanky on the spot of frapplanks endless in retired liturgy of surpassed peace amicable to truces among the pragmatica of checkerboard pastries willful in array backing sentinels from rearguard hindsight to flank the motatory missiles of target from ransom built like fortress of immutable graves lost to the celerity of the outpaced spectral wonder of teenage flights and hegiras into recessive parsecs enamored by a stage-fright of recocted astral wonders plasma to the ears of a strange foreign abode hospitable to most heaved alacrity sidewinding into effigy and the crumples of used demise recycled twice by intrinsic spirituel flocks of engulfed eagles spooning the pristine littoral waters of precision in nexility
Stayin’ Alive cackles resound in the hallowed furrows of a neat daydream in a scattershot imagination screaming to make myths sticky pigment rather than imbroglios of intaglio filibustering cohesive firm firmaments flexing with windfall at princely surprises cobbled from chocolate-box chariots of brisk elation shoveled by the conglomerate of prim-looking star-crossed unbuttoned snoozes with glamour in the corsair sojourn beyond the space emergent from stardust tinsel and glowered vindication of self-engineered huffs of vulpine vainglory touted as preeminent above dodgy 70s swerve in the vibrant kantikoys of covert tenure and flickers of swandamo glitterati borne of triumphant dimples on immaculate refraction.
Yet lingering on the precipice of aboriginal unity in disjointed sejungible frames of vernal restive residence decaying with anthill colonies of demarche the cadence lost to gyrovague trinkets balks from corridors of Pacific  Avenue peace that is the cardinal to the priests feasting on militias of rentgourge evicted from their own leash of lease ruffled in the plumage of horizontal margins folded into origami zenkidu gullible on Raptor estrangement chained to the rhythms of parsed sparse rumbles of the rhombos without a complexion intended for sparkled starlets doomed to regular tides in swollen tsunamis of soft-spoken surrealism the providence of aimed dreams of drastic marvels beloved to impregnate a verdant cadence latent by faltered seamstress elopes flickering for caress in the duress of finesse.
The quaint drawl of scrabbled runes of rumbled rumination streaks like a quivered acerbic winsome peacock jagged in the parlance of henpecked peak beyond the reach of the highest teacher that ever had the privilege of tutelaries spawned born to teach in Steppenwolf rhythms of rugged heavy metal impeachment yet ripe enough to preach. The last juggernaut is vile bereaved of yets to become the blemish on risky flambeaus overrun by crackles fuzzy in written retch for sudden bursts of volcanic speech.
In the quagmires of serrated heavy leaps I stroke the frazzle as the choir reaps the grim proclamation gilded by sentinels of majestic Challenger Deep burrowing tunnels of coltish ploy dilettante to all his curated adoration that toys with the children of majestic modesty ever so fractious as to balk at the priggish calumny of retinues of the tired coy rampant in emasculated spayed days of stranglehold filigree geometry bent on noisome bleats prone to annoy
So I leapfrog the redundant hackencrude fawn of gripping spectacles of alpenglow summits on acid at dawn foaming with betrothed pumice on borrowed past from potentiated future belonging once to a man yet always bred to prefer fairer damsels sprinkled with a hint of germane Soy saucy to the Bossy promenade to an Islander born and bred.
Guilt like Gravity gilded into spacious trailblazed glory sent seminal and said loudly bowdlerized the pasture of hidden thickets in sparse backwater chavish remanded by fisticuffs of elapse travail in artistry fundamental to rhapsody in distant milky affection jangling high plaudits of auditoriums of the delicate audit bulldozing fraudsters colored by defected records set ablaze in seminal disco becoming cordial homes for shaken residue blushing in crude crass mass the inertia of the classy beyond recognition without flashbang clashes of cultural class glimmering to faltered waterdrips of palatial mischief in correct lens for froward recalcitrance of jittery stash hidden in dacoitage by the police that knelt on incinerated livelihood predicated on chauvinist cash for departed untouchable caste of radical haste too blinkered for internet barnstorms limited only to lurid copy-and-paste regimented for revolution damaged by the loneliest orchestra of refineries of an alien taste.
We crack skulls against ossified hulls riveted weakly to iceberg submarine bulge battled in wars past always to suppress greater travesty yet divulged that Barbarosa was an insider coup expunged by remonstrance against finicky postulate brayed from deranged heirs to a disease of relish quartered by blue danger dancing with shadowed emancipation librettos finkly in tripwire terms of routed inefficacy killjoy to seanced second guess prisms of rootless flimsy accusation wagered by pathetic overstatement in hypenstance trimmed by the crimson paint of a glowering silk woven from dramaturgy belittled by grasp if not by locomotive passerby pause wicked by subversion inclined not to dismay by oriented by nefarious rage of flagrant hapless scrimshanks in prowess sued by process and refined by progress never erased by a five-second glower by the sentinels of parlance intrepid by desiccation to supervised superstition bemused by abundant gray twists of turnverein pillory.

The wind elopes with golden leaves,
Forsaking sad and naked trees,
The glade lies still and holds its breath,
As winter steals into its bed.
The sudden touch of icy fingers,
The frosty breath that chills and lingers,
Slows life and sends it off to dream,
As plant and beast lie in wait of spring.
Under a pristine, snowy blanket,
Life slows and slumbers and it dreams,
Hardly a creature stirs the silence,
And frigid stillness reigns supreme.
The snowy veil ebbs and parts, behold:
Warm sun rays loosen winter’s hold!
And life awakens from its slumber,
With renewed zeal and full of wonder.

There's a place that I go
back to-
and it's a garden,
filled with flowers

  and it's somewhere in the Northwest
   where the forest moths and stretching firs
wait quietly for showers

it's there
where Monarchs
    gather in
       kaleidoscopes

and my densely swollen shadow
   next to piercing sun
   elopes

There's a place that I go
          back to
where the plague of
  dreams engulfs me

and it's at the end
of a nestled street
  I find a
    fever that exults
me.

She condiments me with comrade memories,
Implant tendencies,
She leaves kisses where they truly do not belong!!
Her conception of life is all not right,
Her rhythm grooves slowly to all close and distant songs!!!

Confessions colorful,
Dark,
No priestess comes with her package!!
Her smell soo beautifully shelled,
Soo anxiously dressed and ravaged!!!

Her composite exposes deep space in Hubble's view,
Distant, so different ,
Her masterpiece complexion always pulls thou through!!!!

Unearthly ecstasy!!!!

She rapture's you,
Captures you to immense pleasurezone clouds!!!

Higher than harping angels,
Elegant elements stuck together all mangled!!

Elevator of eminence!!!

Her elecution elopes me,
Elusive love'lorn,
Skin fragiled,
Easily sunburns!!!!

Patchwork undescribeable,
Redundant rhetoric sparse,
Her lips parched until yours have made their move!!!

No tameness fits her being,
Wild child by night,
Tangible are her meaning's!!!!

Tediously I wait in the temptious incarnate craft,
Waiting,
Waiting on her love!!!!

Her irresistibility!!!

In limbo I stay lienient as only mine own limitations will let me!!!!

Wait a second,
This is all a sanguine hallucination!!!!!

His breathing grew weak, as his pitter patting feet crushed flattened sheets from the snow.

Straying away from what he knows, he roams into the freezing abode, and elopes with the zeros below.

The time capsul.

Night is wise. From its silences sprout echoes in which restless musings find home. Where answers are found to problems shoved under the rug by the day's narcissistic hands. And inside which the world elopes through a starry tunnel of twirling memories, like autumn leaves kiss yellow forest beds – one by one.

He leaned against the rail, reading memoirs of sea like a devoted disciple of a December night, preserving the crash of clueless waves against helpless rocks in his mind. Rose fragrances trapped in chilly sea breeze tugged at a past, writhing in his head like sepia memories uncomfortably familiar. Nature, he thought, is a time capsule. When it speaks through the rustling of cedar branches, in the quietness filling violet landscape, reflected in shallow pools or through the spectacle of an awaited meteor shower, time stands still for a moment, the might of which would put eternity to shame.

Curious how sea waves would try to race against swift clouds, he wondered, only to be pulled back to their core by the unrelenting sea. Why is it that...

“What are you doing here all alone”, a voice shook him out of the trance. The man's ship of thoughts returned to a more human reality. He did not turn around to meet the eyes of this familiar girl.

“Music changed. Couldn't keep up with the rhythm.”

She walked upto the steps leading to rail on the balcony overlooking a tumbling cobalt Mediterranean. Proximity to her fragrance ate up into the refurbished armour of solitude he had cocooned himself in. Alas, nature unfolded itself in a feminine form when symphonies of all phenomenon reached a crescendo.

“It's chilly here. You should get inside.”

“No. I'm warm from the dance”, she replied leaning on the cold rail and grabbed it in her hands like a rudder-steer.

With eyes closed, girl turned her face upto the sky; a smile appeared on her small lips as moistness of a majestic sea breeze filled her senses. Underneath the stars, her skin glistened under reckless moonbeams accentuating each curve of her petite frame. He turned his audacious gaze to the girl, splendidly dressed in a maroon ball-room gown, beholding the sight of her visage as if etching it in memory. Painting her rose fragrance on shadow fountains this sparsely clouded sky makes on her gleaming skin, with whirls losing their way in maze of her hair, her sweetest breath swallowing his soul with blossoms of madness, he wished to keep it frozen in the cardiac cage for posterity. Perhaps it was smoke all around or everything else turned to static background noise, except her. She was gravity.

“He dances well. You both do I mean”, he said facing the sea again. He could bear this sight more easily.

“Doesn't the moon look beautiful tonight?”, the girl breathed in dreamily.

“And like all beautiful ladies, she must not be left unescorted”, replied the man .

She looked at him, trying to underline traces of emotion on his poker face. “Why're you so...”

“Not so much as you.”

Looking at her in eye for the first time, he added, “They'll announce dinner soon. I'll join in five”.

“Alright”, was her reply followed by a laboured smile as she walked back towards the grand ballroom. As the girl was about to reach the glass door, something halted her in the step and she turned around. An old memory.

“Hey, if you see a falling star, can you make a wish for me?”

Her demand was met with the slightest of nods before the man found himself lost again.

Maybe eons passed that night, after sound of her steps faded away into hums of soft music. Or maybe it felt so. But, he did not let a bead of moisture escape his eye once it begged to fall out. It did not deserve to be wished upon.

I don't even know what to say anymore about life. I don't know how to put this into words, because the world changes and grows and elopes like a starry-eyed young girl delirious with dreams and young love. Words don't change, whether in print or spoken aloud. No matter how many times you blink it still says "'wars are not for winning ,' Koschei said.'They are for surviving.'" I don't know why Koschei the Deathless would need to stress the importance of survival when he has no issue with survival himself. I don't know.The meanings of words change, and context change, but "The Hollow Men" always ends not with a bang but a whimper. Life goes on, turning and turning like the root structure of a tree, going in circles to avoid bedrock. I read the same old books and dream the same dreams, then whip around in a gust of 6/8 time to discover new books, which grow old again.

Her warm spirit elopes with her singing,
Sometimes, to kiss,
     Kiss, kiss,
          My ear.*

© 2015 J.S.P.

By now you know
Things don’t go
As you like them to,
The plans you make
Do easily break
Little you can do.
Your morn’s hopes
With the day elopes
Aspirations sink,
Your rosiest thought
Turns to naught
Loses the pink.
The patch of blue
Without a clue
Is painted gray,
The spot of sunlight
Goes out of sight
Before you make hay.
Sudden are the slips
Words from your lips
You don’t mean to,
You pick up a row
Turn a friend foe
Little you can do.

As you begin to develop into your own
IT will never leave you alone
The constant darkness the elopes unto you
You keep telling IT "We are through"

You try to get better with IT
Lean to deal with IT
IT will never leave you alone
Not until IT finds a better home

I'm not telling you it will be easy
But one day IT will be gone
I'm telling you this a one who deals with IT
The constant bad thoughts

You're crying out for help
so you think
People try to understand
IT is a burden to talk

I'm tired of IT
******* IT

Hail squalls petulantly
against leaded windows,
as down in the midnight garden
unkempt brambles scratch
at cold night winds.

In the abandoned nursery,
where faded draught-blown drapes
brush dusty toy-strewn floorboards,
a broken rocking-horse moves faintly.

Upon a moonlit stage
where innocence long since died,
a legless teddybear stares
at a blind rag-doll.
A ***** harlequin
slumps drunkenly forward;
a crippled spinning-top
rusts beside a scattered jigsaw,
as mocking rhymes echo
insanely down the years.

Crockery elopes with cutlery,
suicidal mice run out of time,
blackbirds die oven-baked,
and the little boy laughs
to see such fun
as Old King Cole
steals your adult soul.

Though silk is upon silk,
          foolish people do not understand
that we glide upon each other.

We need not the roughness,
                               of sand paper elopes.

Fingertips dream upon the other,
                   never a rainbow drowning,
                but guiding me to the love of you.

We are the masculine of each others holdings,
                 tightly within the softness that
every kiss weaves between our bird nests..

                           And the song birds do whistle.

We where never ashamed to hold tightly to each other.
              For we are both Adam.. and we nibbled on
                                                   the rib of the other Adam.

We're all free to love who ever falls within our
                 heart beat,
                                    no matter who we are.

All love comes from a singular beat,
                               and you where the rhyme
that fell in to the arms of me.
                                    And together we found our worth.

Born on the glistening icy slopes
Not waiting a moment, she swiftly elopes
Carrying a slight mischievous gene
Humming away a sweet tune
On dark nights reflecting the moon
She seems like a bubbly teen.

Dancing freely to a secret song
Every moment making her current strong
Enriching the soil to make it fertile
She is a benevolent life bearer
Her destination getting a lot nearer
When she crosses each mile.

Spreading joy everywhere she goes
Treating alike both friends and foes
She finds a way around obstacles
Nothing can beat her determination
She revels in the feeling of elation
Marching forward with a raging pulse.

At last she enters a whole new universe
The ocean meeting the rivers diverse
Like her, they come from distant places
Unlike humans, they are all treated same
Even when they bear a different name
You see, with nature there are no boundaries or marked spaces.

She drapes her beauty
over a gossamer sleeve

breathes music box melody

through the spindles of dreams

elopes with the stars

and whispers
lavish possibilities

through a cauldron of clouds

she, the whimsy,
midnight Blues fantasy

seeped in gin
drizzled over
my sins

she is madness
and meaning

commingled in
pearlescent
glow

he can’t stand me in the daytime
then with the sunset so does his fight
and i see the sadness
in his eyes
that along with mine
elopes to pause time
hoping to intertwine  
yeses and nos in our minds
back and forth
swinging like see saws
south and north
sing me to sleep
with your arms
till the grip of your palms
lets me in peace
rest
like i so often
dream

-end

Jealousy elopes my heart
And pains of love grows like plant
I wish you **** my twin breast
So I hive wax of honey into your mind-nest

For I am thirsty of love
Since I fall for you in secret love
My eyes hope to drink your cup
So I fly so high like dove swooning in a cusp

Spreading my wings in your arms
For in the nursery of flowers farm
My preserve dignity I shall offer you in charms
Promise me you shall come to pay the alms

So the thirst of love be quenched
I want to drink from you to be satisfied
From the well of your manhood
Where your reflection mirrored in my womb

In this I laid in soil tomb
Without regret but to aplomb
The cup you give me
As my soul rest in forever

Written by
Martin Ijir

Stained unborn at a midnight birth
as dark elopes to depths unknown
scraping the hold on and hold ups
rooted at the loath of a waning moon
coated with love inside the bony trail
blushing to the aged soul that quest
resting on the shine that warms and drowns
like a titanic embarking on seasoned seas
flavoured in a breeze of forever
beauty of life and nature shades pureness
shimmering an essence of aliveness
the conquest of oneness within awakes
and when the clouded days fade
laughter spin and dreams seek
life becomes a supreme possibility
of amazement and adventures
life becomes a highway of unsaved lullabies
where a stare is a momentum of scare
spares of alternate crying, flying, prying
blues and tribulations always get better
summing existence to a worthwhile measure