"infuses" poems
The essence of your being is here to stay
as it infuses with my skin and heart and eyes and touch
my skin has been tattooed through your caress
and my heart has been mended by the way your eyes peer into my soul you fill me with love and make me whole
in retrospect i truly thought i knew what love was
but this was all a lie until i had met you
masochistic obsession is all i was familiar with
blinking the past away
i am aware of you and our future and our present
and how i will never let that get away
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
Blueberry bluebells
sing, imperceptibly
sighing
against a backdrop of
quiet cerulean.
You know
it is Spring when
their hazy grasses
sprout beautifully
thick in the blades
between the primrose,
and when the sun
infuses shafts
of bronze to the lilac
through the giant
ash's baby
leaves.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
His ***** tongue infuses every phrase
She glazes, spreads like honeyed butter
into the words.
Trickling slowly
Oh, so slowly
Through each stanza
This is her molasses moment
She is ready for his pen
to catch her syrup drips, to stop this slick
Becoming a pool.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 4:28 PM UTC
I am caught, in your eye,
and I drown, in your tectonic wave.
You rattle, intimately,
for me, and shake...
You shift,
minutely,
soundlessly,
collapsing, into sprawling patterns,
into formulaic strains, of madness.
Then you madden, me, as you cascade,
into beautiful, and brilliant shades:
Your Rorschach mosaics,
in prismatic hues.
Each gemlike, facet, of YOU, that is you...
Burning out my gaze,
with your radiance,
as you irradiate...
I'd give anything...to label each color,
that infuses, your face...
Scattering trickles of light,
and roseate shapes...
as if your soul,
were a treasure trove,
of the most precious jewels.
Your vibrant emeralds...
your smoky citrines...
your sapphire blues...
your ruby reds,
and your royal amethysts, too
You twist, in my hands...
and, under the light,
I turn, and return, too,
if only to seek,
a fleeting glimpse...of you.
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 9:52 AM UTC
Then the arch painter,
up in the blue yonder,
stirs the sea of colours,
and posing in style,
infuses the magic with
tangerine daylight.
Then I don't know
if you were walking
by a brook or a river,
you would tune in,
perhaps like the sweet singer,
Hebrew King David,
the water nymph hums a melody.
Then the narrative resonates,
it never just goes away like the wind.
Birds chirp and sing
in the groves and on every street.
Then I was watching the BBC
on a black and white screen,
the beloved monarch had passed away,
and Britain was mourning.
Then she appeared
once in a stolen exhibition
by my poetry in motion
and jolly happy she was admiring
now she's gone I just dreamed.
Then amidst the melancholy,
I heard twittering birds chirping,
missing the mellifluous melodies,
so awesomely sweet,
alas, Queen Elizabeth wasn't there
to speak her English!
Sep 11, 2022
Sep 11, 2022 at 9:06 PM UTC
Observing the flowing water
There is a feeling of tranquility
Which washes over the worries
Holding the essence of life
An elixir which infuses hope
Take a dip to energize the soul
Cleanses away the negativism
Remember, it’s a part of you
Connecting with your inner self
Rejuvenating the life’s possibilities
None greater force
Which can smoothen the rough edges
Life’s a tranquil flow
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
#The Battleground Beneath Her Skin
(A Physiology of Light and War)
Before it reaches her;
even before her breath draws it in,
I break myself down..
not as surrender,
but as choice.
Each particle stripped bare,
each atom exhaled
made clean by the reckoning
of my own dark,
infused with the stubborn
weight of light
earned, not borrowed.
Within the responsibility of what
leaves me,
I enter the quiet union—
the kneeling choice
to align with the hand of God,
to let even my smallest fragments
carry His capacity to heal.
Every airborne particle,
accountable,
deliberate,
refined enough
to cross the distance,
to enter her
without deception.
Beneath her skin,
a war unfolds.
It is not loud,
not made of swords,
but of smaller things..
things unseen by eyes,
but never missed by the marrow,
the blood,
the quiet trembling of cells
that have known both wound
and wonder.
Light and dark..
not in theory,
but in matter
thread themselves through every atom,
every strand of her being.
Not metaphor,
but measurable:
*the way shadows lean into the soft chambers of her lungs,
the way light, when chosen,
can rewrite the blueprints etched into the bloodstream.*
This is the battleground..
her body,
her breath,
her most involuntary places.
Where no poetry of
seductive manipulation..
no whispered counterfeit
can cover what is real.
Only substance speaks here.
Only intent.
Only what survives the fire of accountability
earns the right to stay.
The particles come;
stripped down,
atomized,
refined.. not by accident,
but by the slow, steady grind
of volition.
They enter her;
through breath,
through pores..
*through the quiet, relentless openness
that even fear cannot close completely.*
And inside--
the war begins.
.. .. .. ..
Mitochondria spark—
tiny engines deciding
what stays,
what burns away.
Capillaries widen,
rivers branching through her like
tributaries
willing to carry
what is real,
what is earned,
what is Light.
The counterfeit falters here.
Pretty words mean nothing
to oxygen.
False portraits
dissolve beneath the chemistry of truth.
The cells remember;
they choose.
And as the Light infuses
the quietest corners of her..
her thighs, her hips,
the soft stretch of her waist;
there is no seduction,
no trickery.
Only the hard-won intimacy
of substance made pure.
Not by the blending of oils,
not by the friction of skin,
but by the deeper,
unseen alchemy
of what enters,
what lingers,
what refuses to bow
to darkness.
The battleground is hers now.
And though the shadows will not
yield easily,
they cannot claim her;
not where light
has been chosen,
earned,
metabolized.
The war is not over,
but benea.th her skin,
within her blood,
*Light has begun
to rise.*
#
Jun 28, 2025
Jun 28, 2025 at 11:54 AM UTC
kanso infuses my eyes
everywhere there
even in a deer
my heart recognised him
skipped a beat in overwhelm
the sacredness of the air
touched everything
the great temple
the red shrine
its emptiness
so vibrant
pure beauty
my atoms turned
into God's particle
something
in my heart
misses him
in the unseen
puzzle
surreal so
beautiful
and
so it is
kanso of the soul:
I kept on
dreaming
to be a deer
in Nara
Feb 7, 2023
Feb 7, 2023 at 3:07 PM UTC
Fluorescent and creamy
‘Twas the fabric that was her skin
With lecherous taunts she told me
“All this and more could be yours.”
I gasp in profound sighs as gradually
I inundate beneath naughty theories
Upon your lips
first was a peak of interest
alluring for sharp strokes of passion
a moan here, a groan there
as a theatrical ****** infuses
May 30, 2012
May 30, 2012 at 2:54 PM UTC
Musclebound masked man
maniac mangling most everything he touches
Suicide squad serving the League of Shadows
Venom infuses his insane frame
Villainous tactical masterminds
should never be able to snap spines
and smash skulls
a faceless hulk
surgical tubing and tanks
delivery systems for his calcium crunching extremities
Every Dark Knight has their Bane
brash brutal backbreaker
Such a sordid past
a disaster
You're a slave to the Venom now
how do you live with yourself?
Scarecrow knows
the solace found in affecting fear in others
Poor Bane
insane and in chains
How weak you will become
when they take away your drug.
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 10:31 AM UTC
**The clock demands a tower, for it to look outwards
night has an absence, the key factor
bringing relevance to a lighthouse,
the nightingale infuses sweetness to night hours
for those listeners who never fancy hearing her on a day
a tall wall, a ladder and an iron cutter, perfectly
shapes a thief; there is a mysterious disorder
pointing the other way to every careful order.
The cactus flower and delicate butterfly on it,
brings to focus a certain delectable incongruence,
eternity has an eye resting on evanescence,
a scientist with a reverse cerebral process
alone can snake in to the origin of such nuances,
where hides the complex aesthetics of the 'other'
of what we are familiar, more fascinating than this
the universe that's the tip of an iceberg, hides from us
though, it exists here with all of the 'multiverse'
But who would institute a Nobel prize for 'otherness'
to shed light to the dark path, that would gift more astonishment to us**
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 12:10 PM UTC
Chemistry infuses
Grains of solace
Forecast
Passion illuminates
Forbearance wakes
Queries
Affirmation ejects
Anticlimax occurs
Siren
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
An effusive elaborate scheme the colors advance to bright spellbinding allure then they achieve
Depth of quality by cutting back to softer hues and then the natural dark green is the bold
Touch that succeeds with total symmetry showcased in a view perfected by glass the prism
Most fitting not only to see but to be captivated by perfected expression it is a metaphor for life
The master designer chooses his subjects well one infuses another then by degree others
Foreshadow and glorify it blends tangible and intangible into intelligent coherent order tasteful
And sublime the hint and the elusive wonder all is needed is the wind to bow and ****** it into
A profusion a veritable concert that stirs with appeal life is in motion the players advance and
Retreat each speaking lines unique to themselves what sensations speak tendrils on a garden
Trellis held and fixed a gesture that plays and portrays intricate details the mystery that plays so
Well the stealing of morning frost then the blaze and then restful dying rays that spell comfort
The field rolls and contorts this brandishes excitement exuberance veers and plunders life
Become exploration trails hidden thickets hide and hold expression that is pent up ready to
Explode what vesture we wear it grips our friend’s astonishment is read on their faces but it is
Like a house of many mirrors because their lives are having the same effect on you some days
Are uneventful others are storm tossed with grandness the riches of an all contained realm
Spasms convulse like waves of the sea we stand forth to puzzle and dream what does it all
Mean the sanctity reveals plumes that are invisible that are far reaching and they have given us
This course of endurance that belies longing we grow soft and an inner glowing surpasses the
Stringent the misfit that moans against conforming we are treasure that exceeds all expectation
Life is rich we are its brightest colors and light night is for brooding the day is for shinning and
Divulging the secrets found in the brooding time we accost others we signify to them not only
Our own worth but there’s also fetching is the spray that magnifies the sky we are the bursting
We are the aliveness that is found each day in our lives that is the dooryard of discovery
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:28 AM UTC
Once Individuals,
Lustful Gratification,
Nectar infuses...
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 10:06 AM UTC
There’s some comfort
In a Cigarette –
Slack on the lips,
Balanced as a Newton’s cradle,
The smoke rising,
A heavy silver blue
Lifting and settling in the air; a toxic mist,
Emerging – volcanic - from the singed
Yellowing paper.
And the mind clears and
Slows, for a moment and settles as the nicotine infuses
With the brain.
And it feels
Good.
You tap the ash and it falls, dissolving into hot powder –
you take another draw.
Breathe deep.
“Smoking’s bad for the health” someone says.
As the smoke -silver blue –
Travels down the throat, into the lungs; inflating -
Exhale (more refined now)
“I know” you reply.
Give some excuse or other, for the habit –
Needs to be kicked -
Their eyes flash to
Yellowing skin which
reflects the yellowing paper cradling the ash
encasing veins of red.
Smiling, a crooked smile, you take another draw
“the last one.” you say,
“good.” They reply.
And there’s some beauty to be found in
The silver blue smoke pirouetting in the air
A poison, personally selected.
Some assurance in this perpetual act of self-destruction,
Some comfort in knowing what it is that’s killing you –
Though it takes some mystery out of life -
Conducting one’s own mortality can be quite the security.
Inhale again,
Turning the filter,
Ash drops,
The word Marlboro
(If there’s some money in the bank)
Stares back.
A Cigarette is a sin to be shared or taken in private,
A true pleasure which leaves one wholly unsatisfied -
Something in which to partake with others; the rich, the poor, the lame -
Those who would not normally give you a second glance, nor perhaps you them -
“Got a Cigarette I could *** they ask
“Sure” you say
As you reach into your pocket,
Pull out the packet,
Weathering,
And hold out an offering.
In that exchange
Alone
Is a bond born, a moment of connection,
some common ground.
You turn away,
“Smoking’s bad for the health.”
Someone says, to them,
“I know.” They reply, give some excuse
And then smile
That crooked smile.
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 2:01 PM UTC
To dance under this broken moon
Is when speckled stars and old fascinations
Come together to put back pieces you
Shining a light on this midnight blue
That infuses your wounds
Ten thousand years can't save you now
So, leave behind this moonlight melancholy
Find the hands of those you've loved
Those that hold you in their eyes
Hold onto them,
In the empty space you used to breathe
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 3:14 PM UTC
The heavy smoke of war lay across the world it was laced with carnage and had the sounds of screaming
Shells and the screams of the dying men but as it continued its drift at the far edges a cloud and mist
Began to diminish the former and distil a brighter future there was the timid glory sounding the
Harking tribute of childlike memories the power of innocence to diffuse the base and inhumane
To spill across these scathing pages an ethereal presence that was empowering of good that
Could and did straddle time and space with magnificence drawing from exploration and history
That beheld the worst but mined the hidden gold to enrich the world it knew secrets that
Exposed the damnable lies that bankrupted former empires we were created to be conquers
Our mettle is an amalgamation of weak flesh but inherit in the confused and reciprocating
Action ultimately a flash of inspiration leaps from the spirit the dead end near sighted flesh was
At the wall of limitation now we stand at the zenith of the universe at its ever increasing of it
Self this inestimable spring of well being floods the low plains we ford these rich waters
Immediately our impoverished cares taste and smell the high and great call of hope we
Instinctively open our heart and mind as a great sail we find our self in the envious position as a
Seafarer our very sinew is awakened to promise and opportunity we have left far behind the
Naysayers we see gifts of beauty spread everywhere where all before was drear now victory is
Courting us to rise to even higher heights boldness infuses our demeanor we now throw off
Yesterdays doubting with eyes that are no longer dim we see with clearest vision and with
Steeled determination former days of being wistful vagabonds is forever forfeited we have the
Right and the might that Lincoln addressed his generation we align ourselves with the high
Ideals of past warriors and martyrs know this our enemies whatever your culture or ideals you
Have come among a stalwart people and the foundations of our forefathers will defeat you the
Same as others who came with inferior and demonized religions know this truth will and has
Made us free look well to yourselves continue and your destruction is guaranteed check the
Harbinger winds and save your selves from the only outcome that will befall you which is
Destruction
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
Serenity infuses an unbounded peace that flows within
A refuge in unwavering tranquility
Possessing an intensity so luminous and warm
Breathed into the very soul of me
As I reduce the rate of speed, in which my world spins
A calming glow emanates from me
Enlightening my very essence from the peace, I feel within
Releasing all my fears into the breeze
I look into the evening’s glow as the sun sets in the West
While crimson shades of amber flood my sight
And I release the stresses of my day with the setting sun
While breathing in the peace of the coming night
I have found my refuge in unwavering tranquility
In the calmness of the ending of my day
Serenity, which is boundless, has infused my very soul
As I quietly watch, my worries slip away
Jun 23, 2010
Jun 23, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
My favorite mistress
is red
round
and rotund.
She fell in love
with the tomato
on the windowsill
yet could not feel his touch.
Supposing she could change it,
she decided to
blush
for all eternity.
Now,
she coaxes in a Mr.
Earl Grey.
He slips into my bedroom
He infuses my space.
My mistress invites him
in with her song.
High and coarse,
yet
of it I will never tire.
Sing!
Sing!
Sing!
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 2:15 AM UTC
LS: This place is desolate
Where darkness ***** at your pupils
And infuses your lungs with a cocktail
Of cold and despair
Amongst the mistletoe and bells ringing
You hear a quiet echo of
Isolation that has no shape
Unexplained, ever mysterious
Fearesome lack of a vital link
To hold your feet down on the plane
Familiar to countless faceless strangers
And familiar faces alike
Where willingly you could join
In a silly dance around the circle
Outlined many spiraling ages ago
And feel at ease and ONE
And to the sound of choral
I could fly up with crows
And see it all from
Unattainable
High
Up there in the milky clouds
But
Nature is so uniformally ordered and
Strange as it is no law contains
This spirit so eager to escape
WW: I hear the darkening silence echo
And drone in the northwood stillness.
The forest treetops lurching south
Into the memory of sunlight
Crowns bending unbroken,
Grasping unspoken,
To behold the waning daylight
While the spell of darkness cast deprives,
It opens up the craving soul
This is the naked truth,
This is the light
Oozing from graying monotone
Spilling from cracks between the pause,
Betwixt the shapeless lines of poetry’s refrain …
For life is not a work of art,
The colour a fleeting moment cannot last
And the paradise of going somewhere else
Still so far away
wildish
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
Flitting around
Feelings abound
Opinions change
There is no ground
It all unravels
And it dazzles
As it spins and spins
And the soul travels
Toward the light
The truth that’s bright
Buffeted by thoughts
Wounded by slights
And it weans
And moves free and lean
Away from its home
It’s seventeen!
And the dices
And spices
Fill the air
With chance
At prices
Running storm clouds
Lifting all shrouds
Finding out
And wondering aloud
Amid confusion
And intrusion
Sorting out
Ideas’ illusions
And the heart stops
And the shoe drops
Pains infuses
Where the ball hops
Changing, flexing
Bursting, connecting
The chrysalis emerges
Cocoon dissecting
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 9:24 AM UTC
It is in the realms of being that she ,
flutters, as if inevitable
It is she that traverses the mires of misery,
And infuses the spirits of darkness
Hope, that mistress of ill fortune,
Who deals in honey tongues and flowery words
She twists speech and engages minds
Ensnaring all in her deceit.
She is a lie.
In her absence dwells the warmth of self.
Courage comes when she flees,
For there is no fight that is fought,
Better in her absence.
No impossibility achieved in her presence.
The paths of victory, lead through
The Death of Hope.
The gusts of change leave her shattered in their wake
For when she is vanquished, defeat itself is sweet.
And when her fickle whims are laid to rest
When the constructs of her malignancy laid bare
Comes the sweet dawn of truth.
Her end leads to greater roads.
Those not of victory,but of glory
Of valour that cannot be written
In scripts of her choosing.
The last bugle shall play
The sounds of that charge shall take up our times
The fires shall burn for their sake alone.
And when we come upon that new dawn,
Hallowed in its darkness,
We shall have arrived,
At The Death of Hope.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
The outline of lips puckered in the bright pink hues of lust
The slow blink of a gaze that drinks in a vision
The gentle touch that ignites the fire
The air heated slowly with growing anticipation
The love that infuses a soul
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Chemistry infuses
Grains of solace
Forecast
Passion illuminates
Forbearance wakes
Queries
Affirmation ejects
Anticlimax occurs
Siren
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Mar 5, 2012
Mar 5, 2012 at 5:44 PM UTC