I hate the dripping dark hollow behind the little wood;
Its tips a cursed maroon with a blood-red heath.
I think I praised and lamented it too soon;
Before seeing its scent; I saw already its stray mystical death.

My crown is torn, outraged by florid winds and scorn;
Like a tangled old roots of the windblown thorn;
I shall feel scanty by my own poetry,
And throw it about, duly, like a static little joke.

I shall let my heart grow dull and illiterate;
I shall not taste joy, no more, in any clear--flowery fate.
I shall seek everything bitter, and not sweet;
Even not pure as the honey of a bee; for it shall be plain.

I shall curve and bend any straightforward light;
I shall harass it, and blind it--as if my ghost’s dead soul is very not here.
Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
Perhaps she is astray in my memory still, and not by my side.

I feel relieved so soon as glanced at her beside me;
She owns still that full lips like a perniciously tasty moon;
She is adorable like the flower of heaven itself;
She strikes me again when away, and tosses me about when near.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud;
Tame me again with thy rain of laugh;
Saint me once more like a fresh young bird;
Come to me now, and return my unheeded love.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud;
And kissing her forehead takes me back to that day;
A day of myths, a day of agile swans and storms;
An ornate time of hatred; a whirl of bitter fate; a dust of sorrow.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud;
And again I was alive in this tale, with a burning heart;
On one eve of tears, a mischief, and a wan poetry;
I caught about shadows in which there was no soul of Maud.

I could only see the stones, lying ghastly about the fireplace;
Ah, Maud, are you but still haunting those whimsical moors?
Their strange murmurs but I cannot hear;
But still they consume me, ah, I am scared;
I wish they would be gone soon, I wish you were but here.

These storms were amusing but peculiar;
They are bizarre, but intelligent and stellar;
And calling thy name out but breathes into me strength;
Ah, but should I be here, and bear away thy image alone?

Ah, and thou wert in but nymphic and lilac dream;
And my heart was still not massaged by the tender storm;
For it meant thee, and hungered but for thee only;
And in the midst of love had it longed, and yearned for thee.

Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
Her with her childish eyes and rounded head of bronze,
With her rapturous steps and wild glittering aroma,
With her atrocious jokes, and a wintry secret touch?

But still she was not anywhere about;
She dissolved like one romantic bough of soda;
And within a rough joke, she would be but gone;
And now the storm returned, but I was wholly on my own.  

Ah, and now the striking storm is mounting the earth;
Should I write alone and chill myself by the green hearth?
For I hath nothing to console and lengthen my parched logs;
I shall wait outside and drift about yon wintry bog.

Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud;
Maud with her heart-shaped face and bare voice aloud;
A voice that soaked my senses and craving throat;
Maud but teased me and left me to that joke.

Where is but Maud, Maud, Maud and Maud;
Maud, the goth princess within my ancient poetry;
Who but remained symmetrical and biblical in her vain torments;
Who but stayed sturdy and silent; amidst her anger, and vain fellows’ arguments.

Listen to me. I am but full of hatred.
I am neither a gentleman nor a well-bred;
I, who is just a son of an infamous parson;
A malleable son; with a bleak aura of a putrid spring.

I, one who crafted ingenious jokes;
But interminable as they always are;
I made Maud sit still as I held my woodwork;
While she perched herself on yon bench, gazing at dispersed starry stars.

Maud the shadow in my pale mirror;
At times she ceased at morns, but retreated at night;
On her brother’s sight she fled in horror;
But on mine her smile turned me bright.

Maud was idle, sparkling, vibrant, and tedious;
Her heart was free and not marred by stupor.
She was the sun on my very bright days;
She made me startled; she always left me curious.

Maud the green of the farm, the red of the moon;
Without her everything would spring not and remain odious;
Everything would be bleak and stayed tedious;
Ah, but still I could not own her, though I was her saviour.

I was a farmer and perhaps still am;
Perhaps that’s why her mother ditched me with shame.
Maud said she had not places like home;
Her house was the mere shallow--and gratuitous throne.

Maud came often down and agitated;
Her mood shadowy, she cried and cried too aggravated;
I caressed her back, and placed my palms on her white knees;
She told me stories whenever no-one else would see.

She wanted not to mount the throne;
She giggled often, at our country escapade;
She loved my cottage, she sweetened my thin grass;
Even those apple trees had then her eyes, which sprayed tough, lonely seas of green.

Maud took to hymn and dear children’s little songs;
She was popular always among the talkative throngs.
She would love to dance and wiggle and turn around;
While village pupils gathered to sing a noble sound.

Ah, but when the mirthless prince arrived;
With white horses and swords of a knight;
Maud was swallowed every morning, all through day and night;
Maud was no more seen by my side.

I thought I was not alive, for dreams were unreal;
If they had been, then they I’d have want’d to ****;
But seeing Maud not gave me fretful chills;
I often woke up tensely, within a midnight’s shrills.

Ah, where is but Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
Maud my bumblebee and my delicate little honey.
I kept waiting for her behind the rustic brook;
I fetched my net and fished by my old nook.

Ah, and where is Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
My eyes were still and my chest could no more speak.
I wearily fancied she had been kidnapped faraway;
She would be jailed in a sore realm, and would no more be back here.

Ah, for had she been lost, then I had lost my ultimate pearl;
For there would no more be magic, there would be no more of her;
No-one would so restore my original spring;
Perhaps there would be no spring at all, and I would suffer in summer.

And I would lose anyway--my lyrical, elusive demon;
For Maud had always been elusive herself.
She wore that evil smile and thin laugh;
As I told her tales of fairies that she loved.

As I am fond of magical poetry and dramas;
Maud too used to read them with genuine personas.
She was my epic fanatical little devil;
She liked tropical cold and a faithful Mephistopheles.

I should be Faust, as she once said;
For had I fair hair, yet a bald head;
She said like Faust, I was cleverly amusing;
But to me, like Mephistopheles--she was unusually entertaining.

She danced before me a beautiful ballet;
She was young and keen to levitate as a ballerina;
She crafted me limericks and such fair lines of sonnets;
She made earth my heaven, and my melodies a twin cantata.

Ah, and where is Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
I need my butterfly amongst this wheezy curdling cold.
I need my lover to soothe my chained hysteria;
I need to get out of here, and feed my love with her charms.

Ah, but where is Maud, Maud, Maud, is not she here?
I was then screaming in my solitude, could she but not hear?
I could speak not, no more--sore and wounded by this snowstorm;
I crept sick and weak like a dumb old worm.

She was not even heard of upstairs;
While I was dying here as a roaring beetle.
I hath almost lost all my creative flair;
I felt tormented and neglected and nearly feeble.

Ah, but a story like this is not such a fable;
So at that time I did shun sadness and seek a warm ending;
But indeed, to escape fate the poor were perhaps not able;
And the farmer’s son shall never be a king.

And ‘twas the nobles’ right to be idyllic;
To be deemed far then fairly righteous.
My charms were trivial, and so was then my wit;
My prayers were too parted and despaired; no matter how rigorous.

I kept my work along the countryside;
I toiled all night and behind fierce daylight.
I hoped Maud would see me back one day;
But what I found was to my dismay!

Ah, Maud, for she was now engaged;
To that pathetic creature the cursed morn brought about;
And parties arranged, voices too raised;
The union was now what people had in thought.

Onto my shoulders my head kept sinking;
I killed myself nearly, for my irksome defeat in this rivalry;
A rivalry that failed to transgress vital destiny;
A rivalry I could not even bear to think.

But again, this love had always been everything;
And thus Maud’s union would equal my death;
One night I crept out of my bed;
I had in hand a keychain and a net.

The soldier was infused by sound sleep;
And into Maud’s grand chamber I crept;
Everything was pink and quite neatly kept;
But woke I her not--as I heard her breast breath slowly.

She was tremendous still--in beauty;
Maud in her splendour; so young and free.
Ah, she was free but not free, I fathomed;
I looked at her over and over again.

I looked at her violet bed and comfort net;
Ah, my Maud too ****** and temptingly red.
She was too abundant in her young and chaste soul;
Ah, I could not imagine how she would soon be one else’s.

Long did I stand; ‘till morning streamed back again;
Still I remained unmoved; I stared at my darling in vain.
I jumped startled as the door opened;
And showed me the horror of the Queen!

‘Come, ye’ fool’, she voicelessly instructed;
Her face emotionless as these words emanated;
‘And embrace thy very fate’, to the handcuffs me she directed;
‘For daring look into my dame’s immaculately flawless chamber’.

She pointed thereof--a black gun at my chest;
It would soon burst out and tear my vest;
And even fly me straight to death;
So drifted I, without further haste nor breath.

Those poor soldiers imprisoned me there;
A cellar room at the top of filthy stairs;
I stayed awake only for grief and tears;
And most of the time I laid about sleepless and stared.

I grew skinless as my bones squinted;
And laughed at me with their sordid might;
Flies were about me, bending onto my rotten pies;
And slices of meat left out by sniggering guards.

I hit my head on witnessing Maud’s cold marriage;
‘Twas on a Saturday on the castle’s rain-wetted field.
I heaved myself onto the windowsill and saw;
How the couples were blessed and sent thereby back.

I could not see Maud’s face and fleshy cheeks;
But didst I feel her discarded tears;
Marred and defiled her lovely fits;
Though just those innate, and not out there.

I struck the lifeless paint with my bare palms;
Now the walls were tainted; they smelled like my blood.
Time passed and desire for Maud was never killed;
I’th missed her every day, since then, and perhaps always will.

But my love for Maud was never probable;
I was decent, honest, but indeed not preferable;
I was not even preferable by fate, as thou might see;
Fate who is neither truthful; nor frankly urges us to lie.

I often laid hopeless by the moonbeam;
Until night came and eyesight grew more and more vulnerable.
I waited ‘till it was dark and left to day no more gleam;
Then took my journal of Maud’s jests and read her affable poems.

I turned around--and would disgrace my bed still;
I was plain starved but had no desire to be properly fed;
Of a dream of death I grew instantly pertinacious;
And of my future tomb I grew fonder--and yet rapidly curious.

Ah, but my sweet Maud, Maud, Maud, and Maud;
And deliriously she somehow became pregnant;
But remorse said she kept the souls of two;
And fatefully could not make them both perfect!

I indeed plain prayed for Maud’s survival;
I cared not whose sons they might be;
Ah, but the twins were still sinning babies--as I comprehended,
For they were formed not from cells of mine!

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud,
And during those last days she was cautiously ill;
And a drive of cholera had again grown widespread;
But she was not maddened; by it she was not marred.

She was sickened by temper still;
And the prince found dead, she grew more terrifyingly ill;
She had a pure heart, so she flourished not over the beast’s death;
Nonetheless, he remained the father of yon sickly offspring.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud,
I was duly growing perfectly anxious;
She was to give birth--ah, to those little ignoramuses;
And within a little chord in one or days of two--she would do so.

But without a father to care for her notorious sons;
And even I was locked away, and could not do so;
I was terrified, I was horribly undignified;
To learn this stern reality we were so sullenly faced with!

Ah, not now! I could not too believe my ears!
Maud and her children were dead--they’d been stillborn;
Before they left Maud alone to receive her fate;
Her locksmith would not come; he had another due in a nameless town.

By the time he arrived my darling had gone;
Perhaps she was now shimmering in heaven;
Enchanting her children with her enormous spells;
Narrating stories no plain human could ever tell.

Even in heaven my love would perhaps be famous;
Her tenderness would make other angels jealous;
And angered by envy, they would gather and complain to God;
How an earthly soul could be more vivacious than their heavenly were.

Ah, but where is Maud, Maud, Maud;
Maud and her chain of songs that were never to be broken;
Maud and her familiarity with gardens and blue lilies;
Maud and her immaculate pets of birds that still sweetly sing.

Ah, but where is my darling, my darling, my darling;
My eternal ocean, my hustling flowerbed, my immortal;
My poem, my enchanting lyric, my wedding ring;
My novelty, my merited charm, my eternal.

And now she was longing for her grave, as I’d been told;
For I’d been told by the dimmed torches and fuss and mirthless air outside;
By the endless wandering and the prince’s wails and wordless screams.
Ah, my Maud had now migrated from her life--but attained her freedom!

And he was thus unworthy of being in her heaven;
Her heaven where there would be me, her true love;
And thus he would be glad to greet his fires of hell;
He would marry an evil angel there--and make himself again full.

But I’d be with Maud, Maud, Maud and Maud;
I’d be again with my gem, indefatigable little darling;
Whose voice was unsure, whose poems were never known;
But ‘twas enough that they’d been known to me, her secret--ye’ dearest lover.

So took I, that spinning penchant and a circle of strings;
The edges I matched to the chains on my ceilings.
I braced myself for my very own fiery death;
But again, I’d be with Maud and death would no more, aye, be sad.

Thus the above poem was done by my spirit;
But with the same token and awe of genuineness and wit;
I feel tired--I shall close my eyes, and thus enjoy my heaven now;
For my wife and starlings are all waiting for me to-morrow.

It is now nighttime in heaven;
And there is indeed, no place on earth lovelier;
I gaze into my wife with a loving madness;
Her cheeks sweeter still, than any proudest swiftness.

I shall take my vow of marriage tomorrow;
My proud wife sitting in yon angelic chair by my side.
I shall cradle, then, those white little nuptial fairies;
They are Maud’s children’s, but lithe and gracious and bow to me in chaste mercies.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud, she is but all mine now;
I am still surprised now, as sitting by this heaven riverside.
One even grander than the one I’d had beside the lake;
Which I often farmed when I had needs to bake.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud, she is a ghost but as ever lively;
We are both dead but she boldly remaineth lovely;
I know she is worthier than serene jewels or mundane affairs;
And still she is worthier all the same, than any other terrific palace--or heir.

Ah, Maud, Maud, Maud, and this war is but all over now;
Thus let us dream dead of the exciting tomorrow.
We shall see life and our children grow;
We shall witness delight--and miracles none ever knows.

Human directives, veracities unverified  
Bellies belching with anger, murderers
Udders dripping hate, foundling banters
Hunters striking the hungered, unfortunate
Glare sight to seek the truth, hold me lets sink
Tear motions and debates of inequality

My Dafur, the realm of the fur, demise
All armed in Sudan, the arid, a battlefield
Emergency alarms sirens from 2003
The indefinite complications and hunger
A land of the displaced, starving nomads
Hear me out in these non-dissolving conflicts

Guantanamo bay detention a prison vicious
A base for “war in terrorism”, reciprocal laws
Inhumane human interrogations persists
A breach, a revolt, the hunger riots devolve
Force-feeding, torturous measures applied
All undressed, humiliated, genitalia exposed

A Rwanda slain in divide and rule
Civil clashes, mashes, all trashed
Swaying war rapes, tapes, the raves
Machetes slashing necks and hands
A lust of power, a genocide slaughter
The Tutsi slewed and unsewn from a patch

Autocratic regime boring divisions
Territorial ethnic cleansing, a holocaust
The oppression of Jews, Romanis, Poles
Homosexuals, the disabled and mentally ill
Indifference pooled in pits and camps
The institutional social indoctrination

The honor and killing to expose shame
The violation and dishonor of moral fabric
For what is “good”, “bad”, fixated moral values
Buried waists and head, awaiting stones to hit
Confessional secrets of only what lays within
A torment watching witnesses, all dangling

Marxists calls ships to stow ashore
Masses kidnapped, confused in deceit
Invalid contracts awaits signatures
The white immigrants to be enslaved
All aboard, now abroad to revolve labor
Wage packages taken to pay for freedom

Humans bought and sold to be owned
Slaves yorked and counted as assets
Bounded to serve plantations and homes
A human, non human, a chattel, a slave
A debt *******, offended and *****
Untamed and made to obey a master

A falling global strings unturned
Tunes strumming hate, war and pain
Human trafficking, violence, inequality
Child abuse, civil conflicts, capitalists
Commercialism, zero hour contracts
For if we have no rights, I have none
For if we have no peace I have none

She stands where the river blows her hair wild

no youth and no favor for her
no hands to clean the salt licks on her skin
her palms are dreams wrinkled dry
yet craving an offer.

You come from a distant land, she says,
heavens bless you.

I got no small change, I respond,
my mind drifts to ponder,

a small change, I need that too,
always hungered for
and faltered through
like I missed the vessel narrowly
to be on the river's other side.

Maybe when I come back,
I turn toward her.

She was gone.

This remembrance somehow still makest me guilty;
in every minute of it I feelest tangled, I feelest unfree.
I loathest this less genial side of captivity,
but still, 'tis ironically within my heart, and my torpid soul;
ah, I am afraid that it shall somehow becomest foul,
and I wantest very much, to endear my soul to liberty,
but so long as I hath consciously loved thee,
My confidence remaineth always too bold-
But I promisest that this shall becomest my last sonata,
Should thou ever findest, that thou desirest it to be;
whilst my incomplete song shall be our last cantata.
Ah, this series shall but never end,
Should I approachest and befriendest it,
but to confess, more I thinkest of it, the more my heart is pained;
No coldness shall it feelest, nor any beat of which, shall remaineth.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
My heart, ah-my poor heart, is still restricted, and left within thee,
And amongst this dear spring's shuffling leaves, still blooms,
And shall bloomest forever with benevolence,
and even greater benevolence, as spring fliest and leavest
Just like thy sweet temper, and ever ostentatious laughter,
Thy voice and words, that are no longer here for me,
But still as clear, and authentic like a piece of gospel music, to me.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
My pleasurable toils, and consummation still liest in thee-
as forever seemest that I shall trust thee, and thee only,
For the brief moment we had was but grand-and pleasant,
All the way more enigmatic, though frail, and exuberant
than I couldst perhaps rememberest,
But as I rememberest them, I shall also rememberest thee,
For those short nights are always fond and stellar to my memory,
As thou pronounced me lovely-and called myself thy lady,
As thou lingered about and placed thy sheepish fingers on my knee.
Ah, thee, whose heart is so kind and ever gently considerate,
From the moment thou stared at me I knew thou wert my unbinding fate.
And thy scent-o, thy manly scent, too calming but at times, poisonous;
Was more than any treasures I'd once withheld in my hand.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
My enormity liest in thee, and so doth every pore
of my irrevocable, consolable sense;
Thou awakened my pride, thou livened up my tense,
Thou disturbed my mind, thou stole my conscience.
And with thy touch I was burning with bashfulness,
meanwhile my mind couldst stop not
ringing within me, unspeakable thoughts.
Ah, thee, thou made me shriek, thou slapped me awake;
And thou steered me away from any cruel dreams, and lies
these variegated worlds ought to make.
But still I hatest myself now, for leaving all of which unspoken,
Though plenty of time I had, whilst walking with thee, by the red ferns;
And every now and then, their branches ******* terrific sounds-
But not loud; benign and soft as heartfelt murmurs in our hearts.
And those dead leaves were just dead,
Over and under the gusty tears they had shed,
And their surfaces had been closed,
But as we stormed busily with laughter, along their dead roots,
All came back to life, and polished liveliness, and guiltless temperance.
Ah, thy image is still in my mind-for it is my ill mind's antidote,
With all the haste and loveliness and ardour as thou but ever hath,
Thou art loved, by me and my soul, more than I love myself and the earth,
Thou art more handsome even, than the juicy unearthed hearth yonder.
Ah thee, my very own lover and drowsy merriment at times,
Thou who keepest fading and growing-
and fading and growing over my head,
Thy image hauntest my sleep and drivest all of me crazy,
For justice is not justice, and death is not
death, as long as I am not with thee,
And I shall accept not-death as it is,
for I shall die never without thee,
For I am in thy love, as thine in mine,
And dreams shall no longer matterest,
when thy joys are mine-and fiercely mine,
I am blinded by urgent insecurity,
That occurest and tauntest and shadowest me
like a panoramic little ghost,
Massively shall it address me,
Painstakingly and, in the name of justice, ingloriously,
And shall them address my past and destroy me,
For I hath carelessly let thee fade from my life,
And enslavest and burdenest my very own history,
For in which now there is no longer thy name,
ike how mine not in thine.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
Still thou art gentle as summer daffodils,
Thy image slanderest me, and its fangs couldst ****.
Thou owneth that sharpness that threatens me,
Corruptest and stiflest me, without any single stress,
And charming but evil like thy thirsty flesh.
Ah, still, I wishest to be good, and be not a temptress,
though all my love stories be bad, and
endest me and shuttest up in a dire mess.
I feelest empty, and for evermore t'is emptiness
shall proudly tormentest and torturest me,
Stenching me out like I am a little devil,
Who knowest but nothing of love nor goodwill,
I needst thee to make everything better, and shinier,
In my future life, as later-in my advanced years,
As death is getting near, for more and greater
shall my soul hath accordingly stayed here.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
Thou art my summer butterfly and beetle,
I shall cloakest thee with sweet honey and sun,
And engulfest thee safely and warmly
under the angry sickly moon.
I am thankful for thee still, for thou hath changed me,
For thou made me see, and opened my flawed eyes
Thou enabled me to witness the real world;
But everything is still, at times, beyond my fancy,
For they keepest moving and stayest never still,
Sometimes I am, like I used to be, astonished
at the gust of things, and the way they grossly turned
Their malice made my heart wrenched, and my stomach churned
What I seest oftentimes weariest my *****, and disruptest my glee
And still I shall convincest myself, that I but needst thee with me,
Thee to for evermore be my all-day guide and candlelight,
Thee who art so understanding, and everything lovable, to my sight.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
If thou wert a needle then I'd be thy thread,
If thy rain wert dry then I'd makest it wet.
But needst not thou worry about my rain;
For 'tis all enduring and canst bear
even the greatest, most cynical pain.
Ah, and thus I'd be thy umbrella,
Thou, whose abode in my heart
is more superfluous, and graceful-
than my random, fictitious nirvana;
Oh, thee, thou art my lost grace,
And everyone who is not thee-
I keepest calling them by thy name,
How crazy-ah, I am, just like now I am, about thee!
Ah, thou art my air, my sigh, and my comfortable relief,
And in my poetry thou art worth all my sonnets, my charm,
and forever inadequate, affection!
And only in thy eyes I find my dear, effectual temptations,
As under the hungered moonlight by the infuriated sea,
Who standeth strenuously by the peering strand of couples,
Thou evokest within me dangerous eves, and morns of madness,
Thou makest me find my irked melody, and vexed sonnet,
Thou made, even briefly-my latent days gracious,
Thou made me feelest glad and undistant and precious.
Thou art a saint, thou art a saint, though thy being a human
intervenest thee and prohibitest thee from being so;
ah, and whoever thinkest so is worthy of my regrets,
and the worst tactfulness of my weary wrath;
For thou art far precious, more than any trace
of silverness, or even true goldness,
Thou art my holiest source of joy,
and most healing pond of tears;
Thou art my wealth, ****** trust,
and my only sober redemption;
thou art my conscience, pride, and lost self;
Thou art indeed, my eternally irredeemable satisfaction.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
I adorest thee only-my prince, my hero, my pristine knight;
Ah, thee, thou art perfect to my belief and my sight,
Thou who art deserving of all my breath and my poetry;
Thou who understandest what kindness is, and desires are,
Thou who made me seest farther but not too far.
Thou who art an angel to me-a fair, fair angel,
Thou who art beguiling as tasteful tides
among the sea-my courteous summer sea,
Thou who art even more human than
our fellow living souls themselves;
Sometimes I think thou art courage itself-
as thou art even braver than it, the latter, is!
Thou art the sole ripe fruit of my soul,
And my poetic imagination, and due thought;
Thou art the naked notes of my sonata,
And the naughty lyrics of my sonnet,
Thou art everything to nothingness,
As how nothingness deemest thee everything;
Thou makest them shy, and dutifully-
and outstandingly, changest their minds;
Thou art a handsome one to everything,
Just as how everything respectest, and adore thee.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
By whose presence I was delighted, as well my breath-dignified,
Ah, my love, now helpest me define what love itself is;
For I assumest it is more than fits of hysteria, and sweet kisses
Look, now, and dream that if death is not really death
Than what is it aside from unseen rays of breath?
For love is, I thinkest, more handsome than it doth lookest,
For in love flowest blood, and sacrifice, and fate that hearts adorest
But desiccated and mocked as it is, by its very own lovers
That its sweetness hath now turned dark, and far bitter;
Full of hesitations engulfed in the best ways they could muster;
O, my love, like the round-leafed dandellions outside,
I shall glancest and swimest and delvest into thy soul;
I shall bearest and detainest and imprisonest thee in my mind,
But verily shall I care for thee,
ah, and thus I shall become thy everything!
Let me, once more, become obstinate-but delirious in thy arms;
let me my very prince-oh, my very, very own prince!
Doth thou knowest not that I am misguided,
and awfully derogated, without thee!
Ah, thee! My very, very own thee!
Comest back to me, o my sweet,
And let me be painted in thy charms,
o thee, whom I hath so tearfully,
and blushingly missed, ever since!

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully honoured,
To thee whom I then endorsed, and magnified,
I loveth thee adorably, and am fond of thee admirably,
so frequent not outside when all is dark and yon sky is red,
For I hatest justification, and its possibly hidden wrath;
I hatest judging what is to happen when our hearts hath met,
but how canst I ever knowest-when thou choosest to remaineth mute?
Then tearest my heart, and keepest my mouth shut
O thee, should this discomfort ever happenest again;
Please instead slayest me, slaughterest me, and consumest me-
And lastly let me wander around the earth as a ghost.
Let me be all ghastly, deadly, and but penniless;
Let me be breathless, poor, imbecile, and lost-
For in utter death there is only poverty,
And poverty ever after-as no delicacy nor taste,
But I shall still dreamest as though my deadness is not death,
for I am alone; for I am all cursed, without thee.

To thee whom I once loved, and now still do,
To thee whom my soul once gratefully cherished,
To thee whom I endorsed, and magnified,
My heart, ah-my poor heart, is still left within thee,
Just how weepest shall the leafless autumn tree,
Waiting for its lost offspring to return,
and be liberated from its pious mourns;
And as I hearest their shaky, infantile chorus,
I shall but picturest thee again, thus;
Thy cordial left palm entwined in my hand,
Strolling with me about the leafy garden.
A joyed maiden having found her dream man,
a loving man swamped deeply with his love, for his loyal maiden.

On a night like this, of full-moon bliss
Of the midnight winds and collecting mists
I remained, forevermore
Chained, to the floor
A victim of joy’s…goodbye kiss

In a dungeon I lie, hidden from the sky
A shadow untamed with vile red eyes
I waited, I hungered
Without proper slumber
In my mistress’ pit, awaiting time

It was from lust and desire to fuel and empower
For whom she wishes for me to devour
I restrained, she teased
I grew hard, to please
The widowed Countess: my dark sire.

Though my story may seem bleak
But not to those, whom morally weak
A tale, a fable
However which label
Entitles this to civilized freaks

I moved from town to town, home to home
In search of a life wherever I would roam.
At last, I came
To an estate of name
Belonging to a Countess of ancestral Rome

Countess Donatella, eyed my work and demeanor
From afar I could tell, I sensed, I smelled her
Her scent, so tempting
Was she attempting…
To allure my beastly form into something beneath her?

One night she called for me, alone in her quarters
She treated me to delicacies from rich exporters
She asked my name
I said none, I refrained
“Mysterious and Strong.” She said in order.

She walked over, to the silk on the bed
Colored in gold and shimmering red
Curling her finger
To me, and eager
“Remove your clothes” the Countess said

I did as I was told. I abide her command.
She seduced like a mistress of the eternally ******
Caressing my skin
Licking my chin
And instructed me to please her demands.

My strength increased as I ripped apart her dress
“Yes, my dear, rough and brute.” She stressed
My *** throbbing
Her head bobbing
She turned into an animal I could not resist

Through the night our lust ignited
Into a furious intoxication, organs united
A symphonic ******
Winds, rain and thunder
Matching the sweltering copulation benighted

In the glow of after, past the ****** she gathered
Breathing deeply she said, “You are mine. I am master”
For too long, I thought
I was ridden of what I sought
One to counter my thirst for lust, the tiring caster.

For many nights I swooned, I pleasured her in ways
No other human could fathom or reclaim
My art was of the flesh
And her succulent *******
Feasting like the dog of Hell’s fame

But in this time I feared
For my secret was severe
To show, to hide
My inner design
Of nocturnal savagery that is devilishly revered.

It was upon a warm night of *******
That the moon left me horrified and shaking.
I ran from the master
To evade disaster
Of displaying my transformational awakening.

I trampled in the woods and screamed into the night
The beast of the void howled under the moonlight
I ventured, I hungered
Awaken from slumber
A slave to Lycanthrope, a feral disease of might

The Countess’ workers hunted; “A monster!” they deemed
But I killed many before I was to be seen
Ripping, tearing, slashing, eating,
Guts, bones, skin, feeding
My viciousness, my curse, my bane and dream.

After my episode of moral slaughter
The workers found me curled in a fetal posture
I would have been killed
But the Countess, sealed
Me away in the cryptic tomb of her father.

I was left to suffer in the underbelly of my sins.
Shadows and demons moaning like the wind
My master kept me
Protected me
In her care I would no longer win

Now I lay, waiting for the my master to show
So the door above me will open and glow
The white orb
That will mourn
The lives I have taken, eaten and in my intestines flow

The tomb dungeon unlocks, creaking loudly with rust
The master, the beautiful Countess that I must
Please and satisfy
Penetrate, rectify
The punishment that was bestowed by the just.

“So you are known by many names.” She utters
I look up at her with eyes of thirst, my lover
“You are unique.
So much to keep
For myself, my beastly treasure and no other.”

She walks to the shadowed wall and pulls down a lever
And stands in front of me, **** and forever
A pale seductress
Her eyes focus
With mine, for I wait for the power that was severed

“Now I will be pleasure by that of a beast, that of a god.”
She says as she massages my erecting rod
“Now, my dear.”
As I hear.
“Enter me and leave me in pleasurably awe.”

With the chains around my wrists, ankles; my neck and waist
She mounts me in the moonlight space
Our sweat collects
Drips and specs
Glossing her pale skin and my ever changing face.

I stare into the moon as I ******, my moans of pain matching her voice
She yells from the seismic endurance, her dooming choice
To unleash my monster
With blood thirst conquered
No, it is not, it is her, growing with every other screaming voice

Moans of pleasure soon turn to moans of distress
The wolf of the night is coming, no less
My teeth protrude
My mind feuds
With reason and passion, where blood replaces the mess

My fur is black, my claws like steel
My fury is lustful, the deeper I feel
The Countess is in fear
I ignore her tears
And devour her, ravish her, take her skin and peel

Her lovely face is first to go, once flawless now disfigured
I tear her arms from her body, her liver in my teeth lingered
Blood, tears, flowing juices
Guts, gore, nail amuses
The laughing jackals and demons in a Hell for me that’s bigger

There is no more Countess. No more Donatella, nor master
The moon reflected in a red pool of suffering disaster
Of the ******* monster in our wake
Of the true one she had forsake
In the whims of lustful pursuit with death proceeding faster

Through the lubrication of excessive blood and ****** fluids
I slipped and broke from my chains and fled from the ruins
I remained the beast
Through the forest at least
And return to the woods, away from the her influence

I left the Countess estate as I arrived
Homeless wanderer who survived
Another full moon night
And devil’s sight
Of my life forevermore, the way of the morally derived

Where my nightmares are revived …

…Beyond my human disguise.

I remember that placid night...
Sitting in my room alone.
Something inside me was filled with fright,
Knowing that there was no one to phone.

And I suddenly hungered, ached, desired—
That animalistic feeling,
That urge left unhindered—
That lustful tingling.

A lust I lusted after,
But to no avail.
My lonely heart started beating faster,
But all I could do was wait and wail.

I felt choked up,
Stifled beyond belief.
I felt like I had dealt with enough,
And I needed to help my soul breathe.

A lust I had lusted after,
Longing for that forgotten feeling.
But my hopes were useless chatter,
No one could hear my silent pleading.

I felt so very hopeful—
Hopeful and excited.
But I was left feeling wistful,
With my lust uninvited.

They called it a May December relationship
He was the May, she was the December
20 years was the difference
And no one could see why

What do you see in her they asked him?
But they didn’t know
How her intelligence captivated him
How her beauty overtook him, how her sexuality enthralled him

What do you see in him they asked her?
But they didn’t know
How she grew weak in the knees
When he walked up behind her and whispered in her in ear

They didn’t understand
How she and he hungered for each other
His energy boundless
Her passion endless

They didn’t understand
How well he took care of her
And how well she took care of him
In every was possible

They called it a May December relationship
And they liked to judge
But she knew she loved him, and he knew he loved her
And always they continued as one

I have hungered to be filled,
satiated down to the very fiber of
my being.

Am I crazy to crave food with such
carnal intensity?  Expecting chocolate
sugary goodness to satisfy the soul's
hunger underneath my physical craving.

But not everything has to be about God,
does it?  Sometimes, I just want to savor
the rich decadence of dark chocolate mingled
the burning fire of a chili pepper.

Am I coveting?  Am I being sinful to be too
material and sensual?  ******* it!  I bet
God loves taking a slow bite of chocolate.

I keep dividing the world into
material and spiritual.  
Maybe that's why I'm so hungry?

Hungered for a taste
  of your elixir's essence,
drunken inhalations
   of your poetry
a splendiferous whirl
 of time & space 'tween
darkly scented moons
    and sun's adoration,
blithe starry nights
amidst meditative new
dawn's effervesce,
 spirited of the heart,
gleaned in the soul,
yearnings of another
  chapter's paradise
universal experiences
etched of hourglass sand,
 written upon endlessly
    chimerical verses
wildflower gardens drenched
    of dandelion's plum wine
swooning under a
hypnotic scripted spell,
intoxicating power
of unchained symphonies
dancing amongst skies'
released euphoria
 resonating in a song's
   reprised melodies,
breathlessness of delirium's
  celestial pauses
  in vaporous breezes'
  unfurling undulation,
captivated by rhythmic
  destiny reverberating in
     *****' pleasurable calling
  quenched of sacred
     offering's quell
transcending earthly
   persuasions' rhyme,
let me lick the nectar from
   your  poesy's  insatiable  lips,
sweet mercy's healing
   captured in rapturous
   surrender's reawakening ~

Je veux que vous tous,

tu me manques*



Ce que vous manquez de moi?

I'm the next act on stage.
Good.
It's about ******* time all that needed to be said
Finds a way to get out.

So here's the thing:
I've made mistakes
I've ****** up a lot, and I'm willing to admit that
Because every ******, I learn from it
Unfortunately sometimes it takes more than once.

So my first big ******:
I made love.
18 years old, questioning everything
ANGRY for the first time in my life
Really truly ANGRY
and REBELLIOUS
Like I've never been before.
So angry at a God that presumed
To ask everything of me and give nothing back
Who took and took and took and took
And let others take from me, from others
Especially women, a long long time ago
And maybe they were stupid
And maybe they were awful people
And maybe they deserved it but they were STILL PEOPLE
Still women
Still girls like me
Scared and lonely
Hungry for an outlet for all of the ****** passion
And anger DEAR GOD SUCH ANGER
That had built up inside.

So I was mad
And I felt alone
Except for one thing
Him
He who I now look back on and wonder what
My rational brain could have seen
In a hundred thousand eons of pain and suffering and loneliness
What it could have seen in a rat
In a **** like him
But he wasn't that bad
I'm just angry

We made love
We loved each other
And I had anger
So we made love.
As if loving each other made it alright
Because what they never tell you in Sunday school
What they never really get across with all the
"Shou shalt not's" and "Don't touch that's"
About chastity
What they do tell you is don't do it
But they never ******* tell you why
Because it isn't going to last.
It really just isn't
Even though you think it will
Put that stupidity aside and see for JUST A SECOND
It won't.
Just assume it wont.
And you'll be with someone else
And they'll be hurt
They will actually be ******* SHATTERED
That you didn't save anything special for them
That you have nothing to give them that you didn't first give to someone else.

So yeah, I left.
I'm usually the one that leaves.
Out of 10's or 20's of loves
I'm the one that usually loses it first
Except for twice...
Nah... Nah now it's thrice.
And I loved again
And left
And I loved again
And left.
And at one point I felt sorry for what I did
But nah, that was an illusion
Brought on by the tears he wept when I told him
I had nothing left to give only to him.

Then I met another Him
And I told him early because
I was SO SICK AND ******* TIRED
Of having to hide what I had done
Pretending to feel guilty about making love
To a little **** who I loved once
But no, he wasn't that bad
He didn't know any better
I'm the ****. I am.

So I told him
And he got scared
But then he came back...
Oh my god he came back, I thought he would leave.
And he held me tighter
And he loved me more
And he forgave me
He moved on
He trusted me
But back up a little.

And breathe.

His name was Hunter.
And when I met him, I was dating the guy I thought I would change for
And a week later I left.
And I immediately got googly-eyed over Hunter
But also someone else.
His name was Collin.
Collin got to me first, because,
Crazy thing
He seemed more mature
And like he could handle it better if I didn't want to be attached yet
So I told him I didn't want anything serious
And we made out.

And then I started falling more for Hunter
Because Collin was a one-upper.
And Hunter was sweet and interesting
Intelligent in speech
On our first date
We discussed Neitzche in a ****** local burger joint
And he was beautiful
In my life I don't think I will ever find Adonis in the flesh again
And eventually, after trying very hard
I got him to kiss me
God how he kisses is like tasting wine
And has the same affect on my mind
And excites my body beyond what I've felt before
And that lasted the whole time I was with him
It still hasn't gone away
To this day if he kissed me
I think my cells would fly apart with joy

Now here's where my shittiness comes back in
And makes everything confusing
So I was making out with Collin one night
And Hunter the next
And I told them both
I ******* TOLD HIM
"We are not dating."
I said that.
Exactly that.
Meaning there is NO commitment
NO expectations
YOU can do whatever you want with whoever
AND SO CAN I

Eventually Hunter persuaded me to be his girl.
So I basically just started ignoring Collin
Stopped making out
Stopped hanging out
Stopped talking pretty much
So I could be with just the one I had COMMITTED myself to.
And we were happy.
Until I told him.

Then he was hurt.
He felt betrayed
Even though I ******* TOLD HIM
WE ARE NOT DATING
During that time
He felt he had claim on me during that time
Just because he had kissed me
He said "I wish you had told me how little a kiss means to you
I would never have ******* kissed you."
And I got ANGRY
And then you know what?

I said I'm sorry
I said you're right
I said "I put his feelings before yours, that was wrong, and it will never happen again."
I should've never done that.
I didn't do anything wrong.
And I gave him power over me
That no one should ever have.

We spent the last month or two
In despairing bliss
Knowing that at the end of the college semester
Which had been so short
He would go home to Georgia
And I would return to the mountains
And I had played the long-distance game before
And would not do it again

I should have just taken what I could get

So the last day, we helped each other pack
We cried
So much
Into each other's shirts and shoulders
Hearts breaking but hopeful
For a promise
I promised him
AND THIS IS THE ONLY THING I PROMISED
That at the end of the summer
We would both be available
So that we could try again
THAT'S IT

So I cried my way home
And he took his plane
And we Skyped until 2 his time every night
After about another month
The usual sadness and loneliness hit
Being home is bad for me
I lose sense of up and down
As I feel my wheels spinning on the ice
In the freezing summer between springs
I missed him
So much that I felt empty
I ached and hungered and died every day
Though it was nice to see my old friends again
But the worst thing happened
I remembered that I like flirting
And I had already ****** up once

Why not do it again?
Three more times?

For two months I didn't make love
I ******
Mindlessly
Cuddled for a bit with a friend
Then he'd admit he liked me
I'd tell him I wasn't going to date this summer
And he'd get hard
And he'd get insistent
"We can just be friends with benefits"
He'd say
He genuinely liked me
They always did
One even said he loved me
I had no such emotion for them
I just wanted to not feel so alone

So we'd cuddle, talk, kiss, ****,
And I'd go home every time still empty
Still cold
Still alone
And sad
And guilty
And for two months I wandered around in that hell
Wondering why it wasn't getting any warmer
Wondering how the **** I was still alone
With all these men that wanted me so bad
And every night as I fell asleep I thought about Hunter
Oh God... I could never tell him
No, he would never understand

And he didn't.
When I finally told him
Not because it was any of his ******* business
BECAUSE IT WASN'T
We were not dating
There was no commitment
No promises except that I'd be there in the end
We kept admitting love for one another
Which was a mistake in retrospect
But he had no right to feel such claim on me

The worst part was that he had asked me over the summer
And I had lied and justified
And gotten angry
SO ******* ANGRY at him
Every time he got suspicious
HE HAD NO ******* RIGHT
And I got angry
Because I was guilty
Especially because it wasn't helping
And all I wanted was him

So I told him
Not because he had a right to know
But because I finally trusted him enough
And wanted no secrets between us
Wanted one SINGLE ******* PERSON
Who I could show my whole self to
Tell everything to
Just one
And I wanted it to be him
And he was angry

And oh god for days he was angry
And every night he made me cry
Because I told him to let it out
That it might help
So he called me *****
He called me ****
He called me cheater
He told me that nothing meant anything to me
That nothing was special to me
Nothing physical would ever be special or worth anything from me
But... But I still don't understand
Honesty
That was important to me
That was everything to me
And I had given it to him
I don't understand
Why he walked all over it
Why

That
That's enough
I can't talk about this anymore right now
Ask me again another day
Just not right now

Alright I guess I should anyway

So the last month of summer
I was with no one
I spent every night Skyping him
Every night either crying in the hurt of his angry words
Or singing my love and praises for him
And when he went on a trip and couldn't call me
I took pictures and screenshots every night
To show him I wasn't out again
I was at home
Safe
Alone
Waiting for him

A month it went on like that
Until it was finally one week before school
I drove down to the college, picked him up
He greeted me at the door and I lept into his arms
And he held me and we cried
And there was love
And I felt complete
And I could finally breathe again
And the gasps wracked my body with pleasure and pain

I took him and we spent a week of heaven
In my home in the mountain
He met my family
And they all loved him
And we talked
Once in a while there would be a sad moment
But he said he'd try
He said he loved me
And I had hope...

Why didn't he try?
He left me when we got back to school
Why didn't he stay
I don't understand
I've tried so hard
I've mended fences with God
Hoping he can help me
But it's taking time
And it doesn't mean anything to Hunter
Why?
I told him all of the truth
All of it
And laid myself at his feet
Just asking that when he was done abusing me
Done being angry
Done with his vengeance
That he would love me
And keep me
And stay
But he left
I don't understand
I tried. So hard.

And I can't let go of him
How can I?
I invested my whole self in the warm and golden dream
Of lying in his arms at night
I changed myself to be what he wanted
I changed my mind to match his
What more could I do?

Don't I deserve forgiveness?
Haven't I earned just one last chance?

A lyrical poem about King Midas,how everything he touched turned to gold,and how he learned not to be greedy.


This is the tale of an ancient king
   Who loved all thing that pleasure brings
Who as a babe asleep in bed
     A trail of ants marched to his lips and fed
The young prince as he lay asleep
   With the choicest grains of wheat


Midas grew and gathered wealth
    With which he might enjoy himself
But aside from wealth, his fingers were green
    To he loved to prune and **** and clean -his garden,
every sort of rose
    He planted there and he watched them grow.


One day the old satyr- Silenus
   The teacher and friend of young Dionysus
Had straggled, drunken, from the crowd
    And staggering lost and singing aloud
he slept  off the wine in Midas’ Garden
    And  better pray that Midas gives him Pardon


Silenus woke and by guard was brought    Before Midas in the palace court
"What brings you here?" asked the King,
     I would like to know
‘Did you harm any of my roses.?’
     You didn’t !? Then Silenus. Take your pleasure
And dine and drink to double measure !

So Silenus,the lucky, old fun loving Satyr
    Grew steadily more drunk and fatter
All merrily the old soul chaffed
       King Midas who with him laughed
And when both had ate and drank their sate
    Silenus did this tale relate:

And he told a story to the king
    Of lands where he said he'd  been travelling
perhaps yarns spun from his dreams ?!
   of lands beyond the oceans stream
-peopled by folk of long life and health
    with very vast amounts of wealth !!  :)

Now Midas listened good and well
   To all Silenus had to tell
And when the story
   Came to end
He said: " please do point the way, my friend "
   For though Midas had more wealth than he would ever need
He was overcome by greed




So he sent ships and many men
   To sail the hyperborean
With eager, brave intent to find
   A land that perhaps  existed only in Silenus’ mind
And since no such place was found by Midas’ men
   They turned his ships
And sailed home again

Silenus loved to loaf around
   All day about the palace grounds
He grew indolent he was so lazy
    He  ate and drank all he could see
He thought” This is the life, great  stuff !
    But by now the king  had had enough !!


By this time  the lord Dionysus
   Was much concerned for his lost friend Silenus
Though not far  need he search or  roam
   For King Midas sent the old man home
And most pleased was the young god-boy
    For Silenus was his favourite friend and joy

So Dionysus conveyed  his gratitude to the king
    Does Lord Midas require anything ?
For the Lord Dionysus will grant
    Anything the king may want
And so the messenger was told
   May all that Midas touch be turned to gold




And all that Midas touched upon
Turned to gold and brightly shone
Midas’ table and his throne
   And all the contents of his home
And soon he had turned everyone
   To gold
Even his wife and sons

All this wealth it brought no good
   For Midas could not drink nor eat his food
Not a morsel could be ate
   But all turned to gold upon his plate
Golden fruits and golden meat
   Golden wine and golden wheat


And so the days they did pass by
    And a very hungered king did cry
That he did not want
    No he could not stand
His golden stores of treasure grand
    for he was hungry,thirsty, weak and dry
And not a morsel could that treasure buy

The poor king Midas he did sigh
   If he did not eat he soon would die
Alone he blubbered in despair
   He cursed himself and tore his hair
He could not stand it any more
   So he crawled half dead to Dionysus's  door

So thirsty, famished, very thin
   Midas begged Dionysus to release him
From the blessing that had become his curse
    For what fate could be any worse
Midas begged, he cried implored
   That life be restored
As it were before


The god he drank
   Deeply carousing
He found the matter quire amusing
    But although he laughed at Midas suffering
He had some compassion for the king
    He said “ I hope you have learned your lesson well
The king  listened to what he had to tell

At the source of the river Pactolus
   Near the mount of Tmolus
There you may drink and wash yourself
    And be restored to natural health
And all your golden treasures stored
    Shall all become as they were before

So Midas journeyed west to seek
   The water spring near the mountains peak
His thirst was as a burning flame
   But travelling onward soon he came
Upon the mountain
   When he saw it’s water
He broke down and cried with tears and laughter

They say that Midas was so relieved
    That never again did he ever greed
He learned that his greatest treasure was his life
   His good health, his sons and wife

The sands of the river Pactolus some say -  Are golden to this very day

What is it hereby that I seeith?


Unardent archetypes,
Renege cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!!

Aristrocratics art thou?
Greedied dollared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?

What about thy neighbor?
The one on thine street,
Doused in fluids, puke and safekeeps,
Not enough for him?
Thou furtive frugal!!!!!!!

Yea!!!
Tuck thine own pocket back in,
Dont let him seeith all you have to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!!!

As this old sphere genuflects in circlet motion,
To thine loved ones all time and and thy devotion thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?

Thou maverick!!!!
Thine phene!!!!!

Fast food havens hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day,
For all unclotting!!!!

Protracting thy fateful health oh invertebrate?

Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?

Provident to failure!!!!!

Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou has made a surplus!!!!
Skipping thy wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust??????!!!!!!!!

Visionary of demonous audacity!!!!!!

Thine own path is manifest and lamenting!!!!

For art thouest not repenting of thy fast lived paradox?

I'm a cynic to thine own trust!!!!!

What is it hereby that I seeith?

Unardent archetypes,
Credited cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!

Aristocratics art thou?
Gormandizing collared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?

What about thy neighbor?
The one on thy street?
Doused in fluid, puke, and his own safekeeps,
Not enough for him thou furtive frugal?

Yea,

Tuck thine own pockets back in,
Dont let him see you have all to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!

As this old rock spins in circular motion,
To thine loved ones all time and devotions,
Thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?

Thou maverick!!!
Thine phene!!!

Agile pabulum Haven's hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day for unclogging!!!!!

Protractingly fateful health oh mortal?

Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?

Provident to failure!!!

Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou hath made thine surplus,
Skipping the wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust!!!!

Visionary of demonic audacity!!!

Thy own path is manifest and lamenting,
For art thou not repenting of thy fast lifted paradox??

I'm a cynic to thy trust!!!!

Under the blanket
Of the cloak of night
I tended my garden
I reached for the seeds of the stars of night
And drew them down to Earth
To relish them forever
Sweet fruits, apples, and pomegranates
And rose buds in bloom
Permeated the air like sweet incense
I fed myself of the beautiful trees
Which grew too numerous to count
But nightmares arose from deep within
When I slumbered beneath the tree
I dreamt of falling
Fleeing to the ocean's depths
My bones were brittle
And my face was covered
In filth and stench
From roving in the desert
My hair was matted
And my eyes bulged from their sockets
My tears were running dry
I did not deserve this torment

~

So I sank and saught the truth

~

The bottoms were pleasantly beautiful
I befriended monsters there
And remember the seaweed
Toying with my hair
In time, I arose as Mother of the Sea,
As Venus
Yet another garden was claimed by me
And I harkened to their call
To come to know
This destiny of mine

~

I swelled in the gardens of others
Until I needed to return
When the student is ready
Their teacher appears
And I am a willing student of life!

~

That's when I saw him from afar
And my world would change forever
I peeked at him through the willows
He was shining iridescence itself
I've met others like him before
If I knew what was in store
Would I still approach?
Knowing me, probably!
He whispered that I was a wanted woman
He's the first that saw my soul as true
Everyone else misunderstood
Or feared my intentions
Towards them
While I hungered for fruits
I could never receive again

~

I am barred from the land by the river
Why would He do this to me?
The Universe's eyes aren't shut
And have 20/20 vision
His servant always maintained sure distance
From his most prized possession

~

He gave me his cloak
A garment of protection
The dark night
And elevated me thusly
I took on another form
As beautiful as any
I vowed not to harm his Master's garden
~

So I tended mine
With stars of night
And rain and snow
With bountiful deer and squirrels
If I knew the curses thrown
Would I have stayed in the sea
If I knew that ruling the skies of night
Would bring this upon me
I would still stay where I am today
I how this seventy tomes seven

~

My garden bears fruit gloriously
But I long to bring honor
To my garden
By making his mandrakes
My own

~

All hail to these
Three times three

~

The first pear I tasted
The first apple that fell
The first time I glowed
And knew the Never - Uttered

~
... the longing to be like Him! ...
.... the pang to be His mandrake!....
          The love we once shared
Please, God
Give me one more
Bite!
~
Lord, what have I done?
He raised me up
And I dragged him down
Now we must spend eternity this way
In foxholes and carcasses
Always dying to relive the recent past
When morning glories were my favorite flower

~

... he shielded me
And I was cast away from the Garden
And it's fruits forever
I wander the desert once again
But this time
I am not alone

~

We roamed...
He offered me a desert flower
And bade me to plant
From it sprang a river stream  
To sustain our coagulating blood
It did not satisfy
We fell
And in each other's eyes we found the key
To drown out exile' s realities
I saw the sun's rays in his eyes again
The dark nights will not be gloomy anymore
The Name of God is no longer a four letter word
We fell down
Again and again
And the more we fell
The more, before our eyes
This garden
Our garden
Grew

~

We tended our garden
Until then

~

Contemplating on Jehovah
Grieves my heart
Until it rips open and I spill my blood
The animals retreat
My plants for
Because my blood has been spilled
Innocent blood
Within my own garden
My lover has left
My night lamp
To become the hunt
And perish
For the unspoken
Uncherishef
.  The defiled .

We will never share our garden
Again evermore

budding thoughts of newer days
on post-its everywhere
each behold a simple life
that should be made to bear

tiny futures made of ink
that whistle under hands
wait until they’re asked to speak
as more the world demands

if every human from the earth
fulfilled their ecstasy
then nothing would be hungered for
and none would cease to be

we’ll search the journals and the notes
if we can do a thing
for those who can’t or those who won’t
to live under a wing

to wish is but to live or die
and you’ve been last to know
the nights are cold and days are dry
so write them as you go

I met you in the time between embers and aries
when the sky darkens early and the leaves decide to depart from branches
when the cold grey dreary fuels me emphatically
and the cold crispness reminds me I am so delightfully alive
In those fiery red orange embers to the grey bleak aries
was I thus enflamed and envigorated by you
When I met you in that time between embers and aries
and we traded soft whispers and heated glances,
salacious banter and satisfied stares
in that time between embers and aries
where I hungered for all of you
exuding avaricious energy
to slake myself with your scent
and delight in the way my fingers dance through your hair
and revel in the way I trace my desire across your skin

my embers and aries are stained with you

Every single madness is in my soul,
and fires like t'ose of a tempestuous sea-
are but raging within me;
scratching and tearing
t'is faith of mine so badly
Behind t'ese livid; and torpid
Dull afternoon airs.
Ah, stupid reasons, please go away-
and stun thy own flimsy day
But leave every one of thy bright promise
about thee;
Oh, just here-yet eternally-
everything t'at is as superb
as t'is often-hated hysterical world.
But only th' ones with humbleness!
And before thou retreat-imbue my soul
with silky greatness once more;
As I shalt salute thy carelessness
No matter what shalt happen
But steal not my love out of me;
let him stay like t'at and sleep by me
Until our tales come and greet
Unmarred evenness
And I; dare to spread my sore heart lazily
Under yon distant umbrella
of our oblivious heavens.

I hath the volition to touch th' stars,
And perhaps dream, dream highly
all over again
Of regaining thy love,
and rolling suspiciously
about and into thy waiting arms,
under our liberated celestial blankets
of clouds and its surfaceless haze.
Which might now and then smirk at us;
But before our ignorance rigidly
retreat away; and vanish pallidly into
its own threads
of prim; but unforgivable vanity.
Ah! I shalt but forever dream again
of all yon awesomeness,
and insist on devouring th' tasteful
Ye' immortal madness of thy princedom.
I imagine thy touches-and t'ose feverish scents
of thy fingers, and lavish hands
Free of boredom, but tainted with wisdom
And being sunk deeply in thy justice
Which insofar as it hath been enabled-
been hovering deafeningly in and about me.
Ah! I shalt be th' first one, and maiden
Who maketh thy irresoluteness decisive,
and turneth thy doubtful precisions
once more submissive!
I shalt become thy torch, and lips,
and guiding star!
I shalt bear thy ******,
and be thy own earthly phantom;
Be with me shalt be thy candlelight;
which is as strong as envious daylight
and by whom I shalt remove thy fright
As far as my dreams go with th' night
And visit and fend for thee
In thy portrait
and thy invigorating dreams.
I shalt be thy surprise;
and be a companion to thy delight
As how I shalt seek
and glory in thy pleasure;
Be lost in thy pride
and feel merciful to be thy treasure
I shalt deprave thy greed of its life
and make to thy grave,
one most beloved, and conspicuous wife.
Ah, thou art too striking!
Thy stunning voice fills me with madness-
and shakes my spines from head to toe,
But kills my sorrow and burns my sadness,
cleanses up my sins and blesses me anew.
Thou befriendeth my pride;
and my atrocious passion;
thou listeneth to my heart
and rinseth tears off its horizon.

Ah! So no wonder now
My madness loses its pride-
Overriding pride, t'at at times
becomes pregnant with such arrogance
So t'at despised it is, even by divine spies
sent down to t'is earth by majestic Lord.
What a delight within me it is to see thee-
and watch another brimful
of thy laughter-ah; thou art as captivating
as a little red-cheeked boy
Who sanguinely greeted me
Down th' farms
With a flow of madly auburn hair,
and smiles as agreeable
as t'at morn's bashful sunny air.
Ah, thou, who art even more adorable
than t'is lurid poem of mine;
stained with th' red colour-as it is,
of my own madness-and a tenacious judgment
of my senses,
T'ese merry dreams of thee are but too vicious
As they make me sweet-unbearably sweet,
in th' entire course
Of yon upcoming flirtatious night;
and tease me most whenst I'm awake
with loving chills so painstakingly crafted
about my face.
O, my lover!
My equanimious, long-sought, and
Sagitarius lover!
Thy naive, but sweet-spirited soul,
is as cheerful and frank;
but troublesome and scanty still
And within one terrific; yet ubiquitous
blink of th' hungered eye
Thou shalt sweep and slay away again;
my rigid; whilst disconcerted, charms.
And so how is at heart I am dreamily-
ye' desperately dedicated to thee;
Though far I am from thee-
as how thou defiantly-from me;
And so never may we sing-or argue in unison;
To utter neither choruses; nor grouped ballads
of marriage;
Dreams are but our sole tower and maze;
And morns all over th' earth, our single haste.

And such! Such a gaze of thine
Is addictive to me like white whine
For 'tis forever my melancholy tyranny;
In my selfish world-full of picturesque indignation
And its dearest remorse
and tranquil superfluity.
Birds t'at never fly;
And lilies t'at might not die-
ah, so after all cautious,
but in every way immortal-like thee;
Snoring and aging in thy deathless foreverness;
In which there art profoundly thou and I-
And I with my repentant dead soul
Unfreed yet of its cherry-like buds
Reeking of fascinated; yet disheartened
Longings; and horrors t'at
Unrevealed love canst soullessly take
Out its mortal mouth and sunless tongue-
From which my dissatisfied spirit
ain't bound ever to jump and awake.

Ah, but after all-all t'is suffering
and disruptive madness,
My corrupted freedom all along
shalt find justice
And whole confidentiality
In thy soul;
So t'at let me feel lethargic on thy shoulder
And rest my dishevelled mind for a while.
Perhaps, thou could let me sing t'at silent song
Whilst our dear God fixes everything
t'at hath gone wrong;
and imaginations and joy
t'at have been thrown away
shalt find every single way back of theirs
Into th' secure cage of love, within our souls.
Ah, and betwixt thy indolence
Shalt I laugh again;
For th' at length victories and images
so startling,
and pictures I am thankful of;
for they were formed so adequately
by thy stupendous name.
Ah, and immortality-yes, so which
shalt always be thy name;
With such frame and glory
trapped so idly within whose frame-
Like an odd; but fruitful summer game;
Within which I shalt ever thrive,
and civilly flourish;
Just like in thy love I shalt grow and live
And to our very last breath, rejoice.

It was also my violent heart that broke,
falling down the front hall stairs.
It was also a message I never spoke,
calling, riser after riser, who cares

about you, who cares, splintering up
the hip that was merely made of crystal,
the post of it and also the cup.
I exploded in the hallway like a pistol.

So I fell apart. So I came all undone.
Yes. I was like a box of dog bones.
But now they've wrapped me in like a nun.
Burst like firecrackers! Held like stones!

What a feat sailing queerly like Icarus
until the tempest undid me and I broke.
The ambulance drivers made such a fuss.
But when I cried, "Wait for my courage!" they smoked

and then they placed me, tied me up on their plate,
and wheeled me out to their coffin, my nest.
Slowly the siren slowly the hearse, sedate
as a dowager. At the E. W. they cut off my dress.

I cried, "Oh Jesus, help me! Oh Jesus Christ!"
and the nurse replied, "Wrong name. My name
is Barbara," and hung me in an odd device,
a buck's extension and a Balkan overhead frame.

The orthopedic man declared,
"You'll be down for a year." His scoop. His news.
He opened the skin. He scraped. He pared
and drilled through bone for his four-inch screws.

That takes brute strength like pushing a cow
up hill. I tell you, it takes skill
and bedside charm and all that know how.
The body is a **** hard thing to ****.

But please don't touch or jiggle my bed.
I'm Ethan Frome's wife. I'll move when I'm able.
The T. V. hangs from the wall like a moose head.
I hide a pint of bourbon in my bedside table.

A bird full of bones, now I'm held by a sand bag.
The fracture was twice. The fracture was double.
The days are horizontal. The days are a drag.
All of the skeleton in me is in trouble.

Across the hall is the bedpan station.
The ***** and stools pass hourly by my head
in silver bowls. They flush in unison
in the autoclave. My one dozen roses are dead.

The have ceased to *******. They hang
there like little dried up blood clots.
And the heart too, that *******, how it sang
once. How it thought it could call the shots!

Understand what happened the day I fell.
My heart had stammered and hungered at
a marriage feast until the angel of hell
turned me into the punisher, the acrobat.

My bones are loose as clothespins,
as abandoned as dolls in a toy shop
and my heart, old hunger motor, with its sins
revved up like an engine that would not stop.

And now I spend all day taking care
of my body, that baby. Its cargo is scarred.
I anoint the bedpan. I brush my hair,
waiting in the pain machine for my bones to get hard,

for the soft, soft bones that were laid apart
and were ******* together. They will knit.
And the other corpse, the fractured heart,
I feed it piecemeal, little chalice. I'm good to it.

Yet lie a fire alarm it waits to be known.
It is wired. In it many colors are stored.
While my body's in prison, heart cells alone
have multiplied. My bones are merely bored

with all this waiting around. But the heart,
this child of myself that resides in the flesh,
this ultimate signature of the me, the start
of my blindness and sleep, builds a death creche.

The figures are placed at the grave of my bones.
All figures knowing it is the other death
they came for. Each figure standing alone.
The heart burst with love and lost its breath.

This little town, this little country is real
and thus it is so of the post and the cup
and thus of the violent heart. The zeal
of my house doth eat me up.

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

**** kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a hacker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

**** underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

**** kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I ******* it up. Not because it doesn't like me... Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I'm a smart ***.. Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...

**** kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like ****** through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

**** kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike...

You bet your *** we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you ******, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

a lyrical poem about King Midas, and how everything he touched turned to Gold and how he learned not to be greedy.

This is the tale of an ancient king
Who loved all thing that pleasure brings
Who as a babe at sleep in bed
A trail of ants marched to his lips and fed
The young prince as he lay asleep
With the choicest grains of wheat


Midas grew and gathered wealth
With which he might enjoy himself
But more than wealth, his fingers were green
To he loved to prune and **** and clean
His garden, every sort of rose
He planted there and watched them grow


One day the old satyr Silenus
The teacher and friend of young Dionysus
Had straggled, drunken, from the crowd
And staggering lost and singing aloud
Then he sleepy off the wine in Midas’ Garden
(he better pray that Midas gives him Pardon)


Silenus woke and by guard was brought
Before Midas in the palace court
What brings you here, I would like to know
‘Did you harm any of my roses.?’
You didn’t !?
Silenus. Take your pleasure
And dine and drink to double measure


So Silenus,the old fun loving Satyr
Grew steadily more drunk and fatter
All merrily the old soul chaffed
King Midas who with him laughed
And when both had ate and drank their sate
Silenus did this tale relate

And he told a story to the king
Of lands where he’d been wandering
(perhaps yarns spun from his dreams)
of lands beyond the oceans stream
peopled by folk of long life and health
with very vast amounts of wealth

Now Midas listened good and well
To all silenus had to tell
And wehen the story
Came to end
He said please do point the way my friend
For though Midas had more wealth than he would ever
Need
He was overcome by greed


So he sent ships and many men
To sail the hyperborean
With eager brave intent to find
A land that existed only in Silenus’ mind
And since no such place was found by Midas’ men
They turned the fleet
And sailed home again



Silenus loved to loaf around
All day about the palace grounds
He grew indolent and quite lazy
And ate and drank all he could see
He thought” This is the life,
Good stuff !
But by now the king had had enough


By now the lord Dionysus
Was much concerned for his lost friend Silenus
Thjough not far need he search or roam
For Midas sent the old man home
And most pleased was the young god-boy
For Silenus was his favourite friend and joy



SoDionysus sent his gratitude to the king
Does Lord Midas require anything
For the Lord Dionysus will grant
Anything the king may want
And so the messenger was told
May all that Midas touch be turned to gold


And all that Midas touched upon
Turned to gold and brightly shone
Midas’table and his throne
And all the contents of his home
And soon he had turned everyone
To gold
Even his wife and sons


All this wealth it brought no good
For Midas could not drink nor eat his food
Not a morsel could be ate
But all turned to gold upon his plate
Golden fruits and golden meat
Golden wine and golden wheat


And so the days they did pass by
And a very hungered king did cry
That he did not want
No he could not stand
His golden stores of treasure grand
for he was hungry,thirsty, weak and dry
And not a morsel could that treasure buy


The poor king Midas he did sigh
If he did not eat he soon would die
Alone he blubberd in despair
He cursed himself and tore his hair
He could not stand it any more
So he crawled half dead to Dionysus door


So thirsty, famished, very thin
Midas begged Dionysus to release him
From the blessing that had become his curse
For what fate could be any worse
Midas begged, he cried implored
That life be restored
As it were before


The god he drank
Deeply perusing
He found the matter quire amusing
But although he laughed at Midas suffering
He had some compassion for the king
He said “ I hope you have learned your lesson well
Midas listened to what he had to tell


At the source of the river Pactolus
Near the mount of Tmolus
Ther you may drink and wash yourself
And be restored to natural health
And all your golden treasures stored
Shall all become as they were before


So Midas journeyed west to seek
The water spring near the mountains peak
His thirst was as a burning flame
But travelling onward soon he came
Upon the mountain
When he saw it’s water
He broke down and cried with tears and laughter


They asy that Midas was so relieved
That never again did he ever greed
He learned that his greatest treasure was his life
His health, his sons and wife

The sands of the river’Pactolus” some say
Are golden to this very day

J.
Ah, J.
A love I hath excitedly longed to find,
A love t'at previously had no name.
J.
A love too thrilling for my sights to feel,
and perhaps th' only love t'at couldst make me thrilled;
A love so genuine and benevolent,
A love so talented and intelligent.
Ah, J.
A love t'at just recently landed on my mind;
And made all my lyrical days far more splendid;
A love t'at briefed, and altered me more and more;
A love so chilly and important, with subt'leness like never before.
Ah, J.
My very, very own J.
Perhaps my future king, my precious, but at times villainous-darling.
Oh, J.
And perhaps I am just not as virtuous as I might be,
But t'is poem shall still be about thee;
For thou art-within my minds, still awkwardly th' best one,
With a pair of oceanic eyes too dear; and a civil charm so fine.
J.
J, o my love.
If only thou knew-how oceans sparkles within thy eyes,
And 'tis only in thy eyes, t'at any of t'ese complications might not become eerie,
And then t'is destiny is true, as well as how truth is our destiny;
So t'at any precarious delicacy is still faint-perhaps, but not a lie.
Oh, J.
A bubble of excitement t'at my heart feelest;
But if consented not, shall be the wound no blood couldst heal;
Ah, J, if the heavens' rainbow wert fallen, t'an thou'd be purer;
Born as a sin as us all humans, thou art cleaner to my heart still, and canst but love me much better.
Ah, J.
If only thou knew-how madness floweth and barketh and drinketh from our spheres,
But even th' devil cannot spill its curse on our strangled love;
At least until everything is deaf-and we duly cannot hear,
As skies descend onto th' sore earth; and our dumb sins are t' be sent above.

J.
How pivotal thou art to me-if only yon foliage couldst understand;
If only t'ose winds were not rivals, but one-or at least wanted to be friends.
Ah, J, even only thy words filled my comical ******* to th' brim;
And as far as heavens' angels canst hear, I am no more in love with him.
Ah, J.
'Tis cause my verses are seeking thy name, and his not;
I may create th' words, but thou deviseth my plots;
Ah, and him, the bulk of egotism, and whose frank misery;
Are but too disastrous to me, and in possession of too much agony.
Oh, J.
Thus thou art th' only one who remaineth solemn;
Th' one to remain ecstatic, and as less aggressive as calmness;
But of the broad thoughts I used to think of him, I feel shame;
He is just some unborn trepidation at night-though on fine mornings, he is tame.
Ah, J.
Let me disclose th' egress of thy journey, and tellest me now-is which towards mine?
Ah, thee, thou who art so bounty, and deliciously fine;
And t'ese thoughts of thee-are often tasty, and oft'times generous;
'Ven when thou'rt mad, and thy chanting is vigorously serious.
Ah, J.
Thee, a soul of painless blood;
Whose disgrace hath been buried;
Whose vanities hath been laid off;
Whose miracles hath been lavished on.
Ah, J.
Thou art one bright portrayal of my merit;
I fell'n love with thee in a single bit.
Thou bore my tears, and scorned away my guilt;
And in th' swaying summertime, thou wert my protective shield.
Thus my, my very own J.
My gale-like, and unutterably luscious poem;
About whom my thoughts are jolly, but mindful and insensible;
Ah, J, I wish I were more frail, paler, and gullible;
Ah, but if only being so couldst make me more compatible.
Oh, J.
And compatible, compatible with thee alone;
Fleshly be thine whenst all is borne on thy own;
Be thy only trusted companion, and thy eloquently verified wife;
Be thine, and thine in wifery only, throughout and for th' rest of thy life.
J.
All Let me then guess but the tranquility of thy thoughts-hath thou gone mad?
Behind us are rainbows, and thus thy songs should not be sad;
But even though they were sad, I wouldst lend thee my heart;
So t'at no summer sunshine couldst further tear us apart.
J.
Ah, J, why are th' blue skies far too impatient in thy eyes?
Just as how thy deep scent is febrile in my air;
Thy gushes of breath are thick in my young weather;
As buoyant as yon summer itself; as voluptuous as lingering daisies.
J.
And t'is ****** scream, within my heart, needs indeed-t' be fulfilled;
And its vulnerability t'ere always, to be killed;
Ah, J, t'ere is 'finitely no poem as beautiful as thee;
T'ere is no writing yet as such, as trivial and distant-as my eyes canst see.
J.
Ah, J, darling, and my very fine darling; is chastity to thee virtuous?
About which my soul is hungered-and t'ereby curious;
But if 'tis so, I shall be merry-and ever meekly laborious;
I shall make it tender, and maketh it a reliant gift, to thee.
J.
Ah, J, and thou came to me one aft'rnoon, with a sweet muteness;
For to thee, poems are far more pivotal to a young poetess;
Yes, and far prettier t'an a beastly bunch of words;
Whose curse is whose sweetness itself-and whose whole sweetness is curse.
J.
Ah, J, so shall I be thy pure lady t'en?
For purity is a curse-and related not within t'ese walls;
Walls of discomfort-irresolute and at certain times foreign still;
Walls t'at shun us-and be ours not, due to t'eir own reserved castigations.
J.
Oh, querida, my random rainbow-but still my dearest querida;
My poetry in th' morning, and th' baffling flute, for my evening sonata;
And as it is sounded, I shall be thy private lonely prelude;
But th' one who maketh thee singular, and nevertheless, handsomely proud.
Ah, J.
And thy perfect red lips are th' stillettos of the sun;
Critical but radiant-all too agonising in t'eir inevitable shape;
So t'at kissing might be just too much fun;
And from which, o my love, t'ere is no such a famous escape.

J.
Ah, J, thou knoweth not-I am asleep only within thy remembrance;
As how I am awake only in thy life, and partake of my justice, in thy glory.
Ah, J, but if satire were the only choice we had, shalt thou be with me?
Ah, my J, for be it so-I shall never regret anything, I shall never say sorry.

J.
Ah, wherefore art thou now, my love? I am now cursed. My dreams are mad.
I am now crawling out of whose realms; I wanteth but'a stay no more in my bed.
Ah, J, but in my dream thou wert too miles and miles away, and indolently anonymous;
I hatest sleep t'ereof, for t'ey piercest me so tiringly, with a harm they deemest as humorous.

J.
Ah, sweet darling, and in our dreams, t'ere is no strain, nor piety;
Even thou-in th' last one, despised my pyramids-and my chaste poetry;
Ah, querida, I am but afraid our loneliness shall be gone 'fore long;
For its temporariness is not sick, and canst work its way along, with a belief so strong.

J.
Ah, love, but t'is loveliness itself-is indeed tyrannous,
And its frigid poetry is randomly perilous,
As how th' daydreams it bringeth forth-which are luminous,
But as love is innocent, by one second canst all turn perilous!
J.
Ah, J, thus our story is brilliant, and in any volume real' magnificent,
With curves palatable, but with some greyness too fair-and too pleasant!
Ah, J, if passion dost exist, and thus maketh it all real;
And at once I shall understand thee; and listen only, to how we both feelest.

Ah, J.
My very, very own little J.
My dearest J.
The harbour of my ultimate love.
My most cordial, and serene spring of affection.
My most veritable nirvana, my vivid curiosity-and shades of frankness.
My dream at heart, and my sustainable ferocious haste.
Th' love in which my ever fear shall subside,
And be overwhelmed by its unfearing light.
J.
Oh, J, my glossy, exuberant darling.
And as more winds sway, and amongst the green grass outside,
I canst but feel thy eyes here watching;
Thy eyes t'at widely grinneth, and flirtest with my poetry itself;
Thy eyes t'at forever invitest, yet are all more daring than myself;
Ah, J, even though t'is love may be a secret scene,
But I hath felt, even vulnerably, not any provoking passion so keen-
For though they couldst my flowed veins hear,
They were still delicately unseen-with a serenity t'at was ne'er here.

She is a girl
full of dreams,
affectionate, adoring,
easy to please.
A full life ahead,
so it seems....

Living and laughing, dancing a dream,
loving life, to its means.
Sixteen and beautiful
full of passion and grace,
she hungered for the day
she could take her place.

Hopes and dreams
of a full life ahead,
she never saw it coming
she never had any dread.
Daytime turned to darkness
joy to grief,
laughter to tears
with no sign of relief.

Beaten and wounded
youth taken away,
she longed for the day
she could escape this place.
Day’s turned to weeks
weeks turned to years,
she kept smiling and living
but joy had been replaced with fear.

Protecting the ones she loved
from the outcome of her fate,
she pushed it deep down inside
and hide it at any rate.
Laughing and living a girl in her teens
living life to the fullest, happy future dreams,
then found a place, safely deep within
to hide from the torture of this cruel evil sin.

Living and laughing, dancing a dream,
loving life, to its means.
Sixteen and beautiful
full of passion and grace,
she hungered for the day
she could take her place……
~

652

A Prison gets to be a friend—
Between its Ponderous face
And Ours—a Kinsmanship express—
And in its narrow Eyes—

We come to look with gratitude
For the appointed Beam
It deal us—stated as our food—
And hungered for—the same—

We learn to know the Planks—
That answer to Our feet—
So miserable a sound—at first—
Nor ever now—so sweet—

As plashing in the Pools—
When Memory was a Boy—
But a Demurer Circuit—
A Geometric Joy—

The Posture of the Key
That interrupt the Day
To Our Endeavor—Not so real
The Check of Liberty—

As this Phantasm Steel—
Whose features—Day and Night—
Are present to us—as Our Own—
And as escapeless—quite—

The narrow Round—the Stint—
The slow exchange of Hope—
For something passiver—Content
Too steep for lookinp up—

The Liberty we knew
Avoided—like a Dream—
Too wide for any Night but Heaven—
If That—indeed—redeem—

lord
they say
of that home overhead
is beauty rapturous
but the interred
holler a song
showing gold to be lead
for his might is rancorous
thought that allure captures still
for when have the greedy had their fill
not in this life
not in the next
for the fearful are still afraid
and will be still, when down they're laid
despite their fight
the sickly go too
for all their bated breaths
could not help in their deaths
that fed the soil what hungered so
going silently
into that goodnight

IN THE POOL OF THE LOST MAIDEN SONG

                1

Down in the shrouded wood a wanderer walks
And dreams the dreamers story he has lived.
Sidled by the stream that sheds blue waters
By the beds, trailing the rail of loves unknown
Kiss and a voice that conjures truest bliss,
Down in the drink where sweet Ophelia sleeps;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the dreamer, he is dreaming . . .
Hair, that ropes the stoic man upon his mount.
Hair, making souls’ lost ending breath a shout,
And hair that weighs the wind, teaches it to sing;
Hair, wending whirlpools waving fools to dive in.


                2

Lost at land’s end the sea lions, washed-up, wail
And buzzards coast where eagles flail, rip tides
Assail and chop the collected bones they drop;
It is a chalky bone-yard break, golden escarpments
Wake and a ******’s salty sermons shake;
Where gathering ghosts glom and chide steeping,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the seeker, he is seeking . . .
Eyes that turn the sands and are mirrors,
Eyes that taught the books of Alexandria,
Eyes that shook the flesh and are seers,
Eyes that lit the pyres, burned true believers.


                3

Deep in the dark wood the waters rush, hush,
Cramp, crew and creep, melodiously tread,
Trammel, and burn as furies in keeping true
The melting moon, the onerous owl, fluttering
Things, muttering wings, cones in darkness
Flings and filmy time flicks by the wayside;
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the lover, he is longing . . .
Love, lithe and lyric, he sees your sweeping shapes.
Peace, parsed and pained he hears the voicing gape.
Blind, bliss’d and shamed he wears the votive drapes.
Hungered, thirsted and gone; seeks your pearly gate.


                4

Out in the forest maze the jarring sun seeps
And swirls, only to roust the traveler onward
Where soon he must meet the faces in the grotto
Down in destroyed lands by the seas’ unreasoning
Chime, deep in the dark whine of the shining mermaids,
Where the doomed cry, round the navel of the world,
In the pool of the lost maiden song.

And the doomed, they are crying . . .
“****** beauty bade us, in a star crossed chrysalis,
Made us, choose a desert’s winter of loneliness.
Heed our fate and leave this valley torn of bliss;
The many millions of locust fall in ripest fields.”

we thought we could put a face to a name
a name to a feeling, someone to blame
a feeling to a knowing, an answer to the call
a nifty, attractive package for our souls, zero flaws
a list of our ingredients, nutrition facts and fictions
that nobody ever really reads or even really mentions

and yet we still hungered for something more
to be like children in the summer, like we were before
we kept searching for the answer to the popsicle stick riddle
we gobbled love up before we even got to the middle
so that the melted sugary slush dripped down our chins,
stuck to our hands like tar, like the blood of all sins

you loved me more than the rest but i'd failed all your tests
you knew that i'd already given you my best
love's sweetness was gone and i turned to run
your words tore through me, point blank, the damage was done
exhausted and unraveling, i cried tantrum tears till morning
knees scraped, wounds agape, i bled red dye #40
heart on fire, i came home still stamping out sparks
i was scolded and hugged for staying out after dark
and you climbed into your bed just like any other day
ignoring the spaces beside and inside you, you drifted away

and just like i always leave them before i am left
just like you always give freely and then accuse them of theft
we brought down the stars as we opened our hearts
but nothing could stop us from falling apart
in the halcyon summer when we glistened with dew
i confessed and undressed myself in front of you
and still you believed there was more i could prove
i became a stain on your mind that could not be removed

so i am the victim and the bully. okay? **** it, you got me
and i've spent way too much time being someone who's not me
but i've felt your heart loving, and i've felt your heart breaking
and the love that i have is all yours for the taking
because it has to be true, i have to believe
(and i know that you all must think me naive)
but love is always the answer when the question is "why?"
-to understand this simple truth i had to bleed myself dry-

when there was nothing left to believe in, nothing left to stand for
when all of my heroes were gone or on their way out the door
and i still woke up reaching for someone who was gone
when my shrink said i was better but i hadn't moved on
no, i was not fighting those demons for fun
from the depths of hell, I sought heaven in the barrel of a gun
but i put it down
for you
because i knew
we are one.

we are thinking the same thoughts and feeling the same beating heart
and inside of our human suits i bet you couldn't tell us apart
somehow you and i cannot cease to exist

nothing else in my head really makes that much sense.

There's an ineffable urge
to sidle up against
masculinity; to allow his
mercurial fervor to unleash
these lascivious outbursts
of lust that dwell inside the
depths of my soul, ravishing
him with hungered passion;
tasting each sinewy muscle
pulsing with flickers of
want, like a savored sweet
chocolate truffle, indulging
slowly in every part I can
entwine as he shudders
with each lick I inflict

lingering in his aftertaste....

Sweltering insurgencies of electric power chords
Tribal reverberations of skin-stretched drum boards
Rolling and filling; syncopating the noise
Of the ***-less toys
The ****-less boys
Enraptured in the music
The anthem
Of invidious phantoms
My eyes hurt inside and
I want to pull them out and
Scrape out the gunk and rust
that’s behind my self-indulgent perseverance
so I can cry
for the first time in years…

Wrapping my hands around his slender torso
Licking away the paint, the dripping ooze; more so
Than hastening my ****** and mordant urges
To bite what emerges
And my mouth purges
The obelisk from underneath
The iron-pierced jester
The voracious molester
My hand tightens as I grip
his throat tighter and
I want to squeeze until his eyes pop
from his sockets and
laugh until I puke against the walls,
watching the ****** fluids mix
like an execrable marinara sauce…

I turned thirty while still being sixteen
The vivid beauty of the world was only in dreams
But none of mine, none that I can recall
Many years have passed since I took the oral fall
Where no one saw
Intransigent need to live
For the snake in my veins hungered for more
So many had their way
until I was limp and sore.
Defamatory fingers of mire and strife
Probing and stretching
My insides
And devilishly comforting
With limpid ambrosia
That’s infected by bilious worms and maggots covered in icing
And fruit

Amatory gauntlets fastened and secured over
Handless limbs that retract under matriculated frictions
That fracture, crack, morph, distort
Emphasize, marginalize
Rationalize, desensitize
Acts of *******, evasion, moral drainage;
Pieces, bits, chunks, sections, portions, servings;
Arms, legs, eyes, tongues, fingers, toes,
Love, lust, infatuation
Adoration
Boys, girls, women, men,
Angels, demons, monsters, humans
Creators, gods, titans, divas
All extended and limited from the minds that worship
Sanctify, mesmerize, glorify, rectify
While humans eat more, love more, **** more
Than the angels, demons, monsters, and titans
We ponder and cherish
Nevermore, for me
Ever lore, for all
Crows surround
And chaos found.

A cider and a minder
Passing time as a reminder
Pink glow and songs flow
A waxy time erodes the mow

Renegades and perspiration responds
Swimming in winded seas of  Jordan
Heated in space, evicted in their pace
Libido fails as the liquor dilutes in taste

Catch an esse as the moonlight smite
Hold another to fake a romantic right
Filter to the cards of ace as the one winks
Emotive intruders farm in fields of pastures

Imbued with alcoholic waterfalls
Molehills of termites condense lose soil
A lack of connection a taunt that apes
Future anthems triumph in hungered strums

Amused by the music erupting volcanoes
A morrow blows as the candle slows
To tow the tall grassed disused straw
A spring to summer that promises sun rays

A resolve to moderation to preserve modesty
A kiss stored forever peeping the awing stars
To guard a heart and hatch uniformity
Trembles justly forgotten in termed premises