How lonely infidel
He that passeth I;
in Phlegethon dwells.

Son of the Seas,
seasoned with algae.
Had a plea
about how he happened to be:
"When you threw me to the
depths, into the heart of the open sea,
then a very river encircled me"

Melpomene holds her Mother's dress
while sailing the temptuous tide.
Recalls the sight of hundreds and
hunches over to address.

"Lead by a primitive spirit" she wails
and solemnly stoops to ponder.

Their ship's prow now plunges deep and
through the ripples, Melpomene meets the
seedy yellow iris' of the beast
reflecting the clouds. She squints upwards
and beholds hoofs with Faithful and True.

As the river streams into Tartarus, Mnemosyne's ears
begin to ring with a thousand cries and pleads.
But the whinnies ring out louder to deafen her
while the tail of Leviathan disappears into the blue.

Through the cave and into Lethe, the earthy smell
of the tops remain as the last but dizzy to remember;
of all those who swam lightly past its mist. But to her,
tears to enter the watery abyss:
"Many must have passed through here,
lived long to see,
but not enough to learn--"
But the ship sailed on.

The stream narrows and an opening reveals. They
see melted hail with blood on the only land they recall.
A Tree glowing brightly in front of a black sky; counted many
swords gathered at the foot. Three days they traveled in
their ship, but now their oars were put on land.

Thunder whips and trumpets horn, the fallen fruit
comes ashore.
THEIR voices bellow to ask a question:
"Was it needed for a war?"
An answer, but no pardon:
"Many a pang I have felt, those aches
violently sprung up from the seven lakes,
Is nothing but a genuine mistake.
Those worthy time and day,
Will surely be given a way."

Mother and daughter wiped the tears from their eyes,
while gently lifting them to the skies.
Above them the sun shone on the wet mass,
they see high and colorfully cast:
A reassuring Promise and eternity.

Once you drove up in your
1977 Mercedes,
I could feel the hurried pulsation of a weary heart
over the clattered groan of your engine.
Clambering into my seat, I folded in on myself,
too timid to fold into you instead.

Creamed leather seats on a rusted turquoise shell 
I look to the back, expecting some residue
of the last lipstick crush that you set fire to.
Instead, I found $1 books from the library
and your worn regalia that I would’ve stolen
and kept as filthy souvenirs.
A deep inhale of your burnout sheesha
that bobby pinned to tired marrow in my bones -

I would’ve taken you right then and there.

Instead, we played coy with the thin fabric of a relit friendship
and talked poetry and music over a ceramic bowl
of coconut chicken curry.

But all I romanced was a clustered cocktail
of my favorite things:

The drag of my curious fingertips
underneath your prickled jaw.
This fever building as I curl into your arms
and the corrupted graze of your hungry lips
in the groove of my neck.

Temptation at its finest.
Such promise between two starved pilgrims
But the descent down to the deep V between hips
is a sweet flame that
can easily burn you and leave pin pricked stains.
So its a good thing that I let you go.


October 17, 2013 4:38 PM

In a senseless
Explosion of
Sound, you are
Reduced to a
Crawling thing
On the margins of
A disintegrating
World with a
Lush numbness
And peace that
Lulls the mind
Making death
Seem so easy

The world combines
and also scatters
as leaves blow
and flowers wither.
The road
descends into countless paths
all leading to the same proverbial city.

what roads
and who walks on them?
The stone are ancient
and their cyphers
echoe at the press of footsteps.

The scruples
in my shoe
hurt as each foot
places itself before other
The way commodious
but the same direction.

the cobblestones
with cliqued mortar
for we believe
in our personnel goodness.


For the lamp
of your words do not
surround me
and in the darkness
my feet will stumble
my ways confuse themselves
in speaking.

No cup or sword
is given
though they are suggested
in the tongue.
Either a floating city
or a place i have dug
of endless passages
in dark labors
with the hands of my limitations
endless without exit
my thumbs pickle
for i am
a lost pilgrim
seeking providence.

as i pass
a red rose luminous
at the crossroads
may i like a prophet
find shelter in your petals
or solace
in your thorns.

I am too sophisticated
for such a plant
for I am not
a lotus  eater.

Dim and dreary
a proverb is written
on the chalkboard of my eyes
“Do not mock for as you are
so shall you walk.”

I sing
some broken poems
then simply
return to the journey.

People think it, a test to institute upon _to be out off their morals rubicund _and therefore comply it to the unyielding duty of others _on pretext dully that they should not be upset at fact , only expiate them alone _the reason of divine patience seldom for their due reverence, but their vulgarity ...
The reason of this fore stated, lays in the fact that : some individuals deliberately crudely hurt others or their surrounding, but rather apprehend in advance how conciliate solicitous the others should reaction in the case of their intentionally perpetrated aggression . facilis descensus avernis, they give no regard .
Therefore if you are  lovers, dont fail your partner and make it a point of probing test upon the fondness of her or his love .
If you are parents or children dont say hard words or ill treat you parents or siblings {accordingly to each position } and expect it, better way to cast a look about submission or paid respect to adulthood nor a gabbling sports .
Love needs mutual confidence .
Any little doubt of one side is doubly resented by the other .
The practice of good is well reverenced .
And real love casts off fear and ill apprehension .
So why try to do bad, when you know that it will bring nothing but trouble ?

People think it, a test to institute upon _to be out off their morals rubicund _and therefore comply it to the unyielding duty of others _on pretext dully that they should not be upset at fact , only expiate them alone _the reason of divine patience seldom for their due reverence, but their vulgarity ...
The reason of this fore stated, lays in the fact that : some individuals deliberately crudely hurt others or their surrounding, but rather apprehend in advance how conciliate solicitous the others should reaction in the case of their intentionally perpetrated aggression . facilis descensus avernis, they give no regard .
Therefore if you are lovers, dont fail your partner and make it a point of probing test upon the fondness of her or his love .
If you are parents or children dont say hard words or ill treat you parents or siblings {accordingly to each position } and expect it, better way to cast a look about submission or paid respect to adulthood nor a gabbling sports .
Love needs mutual confidence .
Any little doubt of one side is doubly resented by the other .
The practice of good is well reverenced .
And real love casts off fear and ill apprehension .
So why try to do bad, when you know that it will bring nothing but trouble ?

cyber-punk, or at least:
congregating around graves
rather than desecrating them,
a zeitgeist thematic
of Polish politics...
and only from matchsticks
came the exploration
of transcending meaning(s)
subsequently lost
to youthful vigour
and squandering,
guarded by the motto:
omni (est) facilis omni (est)
           scitus...    
(somehow trans.
from english into latin
doesn't allow conjunction
sharpnel)...
might be an English thing...
and when people stop
investing in themselves
as slumbering potential...
the easy option becomes:
to have children...
    on the rare occasion
the balancing act...
and on even rarer...
a ******* offspring...
glue to a single mother...
came playing with matchsticks:
K, M, I, T, W, A, H, L, Y, X,
V, N, Z, F, q, e, r, u, p,
   s, d, (G), j, c, b.... (Oo)...
because what order is there,
with your bog a, b, c, standard,
when unravelling it,
chaos, reigns?!
is this, some sort of...
Lebanese joke about who
collects the garbage of Beirut?
         ******* matchsticks!
meaning no more,  no less,
evolved from 45°, 90°, 180°, ~23°, 30°,
  & 360° within circa hue differences...*
god even knows how
the Vatican credo would
resound in the extinct cuneiform...
Latin will be dead,
once the tax on using their
letters is exhausted
by the children...
      so much money rests,
upon a few squiggly lines
of arabic...
    ******* target material
in latin:
   if only there came
the notion, of mechanisation,
via the resurrected horse...
painting of war,
with a tribe that mastered
the bull...
came close st pamplona...
took to touristy... things...
   a prayer unto Hades in reply
to earliest Hugeounouts...
our father, who are a heaven,
in braille be your name,
by your absence come,
     give us this day our daily mammon,
and lead us into usury
as above temptation...
     and... anything more of this
kind of composition,  and no wonder,
easy prey on grounds of
exploitative execution;
hyena meat banquet... cliché...
the parasitical pop culture
sensational, iconoclasm.