You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever.

Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. There are days when I can hear my bones straining under the weight of despair, this madness that erupts like an earthquake when I feel you lost. This heart dies a slow death, shedding each hope like leaves until there are none. It is a mortal danger, perhaps not to life in a strict sense but mortal still, for I know very well my soul would harden and never be the same if I lose you.

But think not for a minute this is despair's babble, even in my seldom moments of calm and lucidness and peace I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than ever mine or someone else's. I want to deserve you, for I have to love you E, I have to love you. It matters not this wound that burns like two, it matters not that I search for you and I do not find you, even as the nights go by and I do not have you.

I've fell into a dream
Nothing is what it seems

Shrouds of clarity tear my senses apart
Where am I, why am I here?

A path illuminates and down I go
Seemingly into the rabbit hole

Visions stir inside
Colors flood my mind

Suddenly I awake to my reality
Or is it still a dream

Lost in my reflection
Stranded in my introspection

Is this all there really is?

The premise of this write God is eternal He is in the eternal now He is in the past present and
Future Victor Hugo was in all senses the same he spoke and it held and revealed that the past
Was unlimited knowing in the present it speaks volumes to the future “A warrior of words. I don't
Know of anyone who better fits this description than Hugo. Everywhere, in his office, in the street, in the
Literary salons, at the National Assembly, even in exile, this great writer couldn't keep silent. He couldn't
Keep from writing. No chains could imprison his soul. No threat was great enough to silence this voice
Which cried out for justice. No wrong escaped him, be it poverty, injustice, lack of freedom of the press,
Inequality of political rights or the death penalty” Timeless like the vastness of the ocean enter another
Vastness your own inner self Monet paints not for the eye but for the all knowing inner vision he begins
The moment we look at his work distinctive intricate alive every color every shadow of light is newly  
Applied enchantment rapture emotion derailed from present thought of the obvious to the master and his
Vision and then encounter the first garden by trekking across the pass that takes you up and out of
Honolulu to the back side of the Island a convertible instantly changes into a carriage of fable the mist has
Descended hovering within six feet of the road you feel oneness and freedom the dark lava rock at the
Side sparks primeval thoughts you feel at deep places you feel the peoples of Polynesia and see them
Coming over great ocean waters in their outrigger canoes to these islands you richly smell sea water and
Even feel the spray on your face and feel it in your hair and the multiplicity of the plant life encourages
Lapses into dreamy worlds where undergrowth soothes and invites lucidness truly bewitching tiny
Molecule size bubbles burst against your soft skin lifted from a reality moments before that held all the
Tensions of the modern world your heart wonders what world what tensions then to perfect and further
Translate you to creation’s dawn a gust of trade wind comes in a down draft it intoxicates with the
Blending of Papaya, Coconut, Pineapple a stirring that instantly makes you beholding to the Creator
Nature is adorned and inviting you have come to the high peaks of enthralling then a black luminous tree
That has occupied the soul from birth it seems and behind such grandeur a black caldron with a deep
Valley and sides as steep as hills causes a shudder something so great it creates a state of fear
Aloneness is about to be forever shattered on this wise great parts of day and night are forged with a
Twinkling of star and a streaming of silver moonlight that would always play its own romantic musical cord
Then you turn how confusing at first destructive portents are troubling what breaks about you is for your
Greatest blessing laughter joy mingled with the extravagant touches of an identifying soul not unlike your
Own poverty flees takes night wings that are dark and filled with sorrow and loneliness and expels them
In forgetfulness a new start a new life begins yes the same as at first when unity was given to Adam and
Eve when first the words were formed home and family she stepped from legend and myth and that long
Growing tree began to move with such power in the heart as in a tempest it felt as it would be up rooted
This long anticipated tree of love that would flow out into such life and it all began with such a  
Pronounced voice that was truly beguiling it rose softly and steadily it was noticeably the empty half
Finding fulfillment longing comes and spills and thrills what elegance and grace whispers and drifts
Mystifying it calls to the heart in that secret language we all must hear the great substance observed in a
White water River the purity as it flows over these great boulders lying in the river bed it speaks of
Continuance permanence abiding glory the foundation for all relationships or the caught beauty of a red
Sorrel horse with the sheen of the sun as it races with freedoms delirium across land that you own now
Together it is a testament not easily broken and words you speak it penetrates great gulfs of mystery the
Mist lifts at the most perfect places so you see life clearly and trust surges with the strength of honor you
Avow all that is Within and it binds you together you have formally tied the two eternities together with life
Secure in the middle

(culmination)

trading closet fingers in the dark
best friends  knowing where to hide
our savored innocence
must have grinned
taking turns saying
your turn  my turn
hidden deep in smells of coats and sunless carpet
squeeze of family wardrobes
brushing fabric with my gasp or whining
itch in rapid breaths of hair on end
goosebumps pointing everywhere.

mom's vacuum caught our squealing
in a silent flick  pressed
between the wall and bed
between your russet legs my bookmark
bandaged there to get you well
your name means money
telling me you've paid me with your kiss
and worse your smile burns me
through your older sister's lipstick
like your sliding hand
i'm taking in your charcoal hair
the taste of salt i've never tasted since.

furthest from the future
single hormones savored at inception
bouldering we plant a famous kiss
pond-slick bodies slipping off each other in the sun
by ladders knocking knees
slender instant touches floating underneath
she asked me if i thought you **** laying there
your propped thigh towered vaster than the sky
me  writhing for an answer doomed
is all i salvage  time a mercy
like my father buried in his laps.

discussing copulation in a tree
we rose the bar on pleasures sought
our racing pulses lipped
to ***** our budding mores into flight
as if a dizzy kiss would lull me
off the branch to plummet at the ground
or make your belly grow.

green virgins of my youth  i hadn't known
a ****** river pours along our amethystine stair
our early blooming lucidness revealed
yet severed at our inner cry to usher in a storm.

growing older sobers what the vigor meant
despite a tripled sharpness
still i smell your sweat
as when we crept below as vagrant children hand in hand
the shutters always open  just for show
we stifle laughter in the nigh pubescent dark
watch them dine  hush
tickle after dinner play of shadows making love
through the windows we are them
blushing i will strip you as he strips his wife
widened gazes mime a sudden wincing
silent  fascinated fear commits us to the same
against the squeaky glass
exemplar bodies thrashing for the world
of flesh i want much more than most
i shatter windows just to show you that i can.

in growing i grow used to less
and as i learn of you  your troubles
i remember how i'd save you
save myself for perfect adult love
i can't save you  we just **** and wander  ****  wander  ****




.

It was in an empty hall
I heard the crack
It was like,
Glass shattering.
My smile
The picture of seventh heaven.

I heard the sound,
A child’s laughter.
The very essence of
Childhood.

A girl in ivory silk.
A bouquet of Cypress and Thistle.
Took hold of my hand,
her’s feeling like
reapers mirth.

In the graceful steps
of a dance
We waltz though the halls.
In the distance
I hear the chatter of life,
as it mourns of its
Forsaken Child.

I walk down the cold hallways
the vibrant color of light
bleeding out
like bleach to
a stained world

The hooded man
collecting it as penance
He walks behind us
his aura dark as
my ivory girl.

She leads me to a
room covered in twin
Glass walls
Bars first positioned in front
only to keep oneself
from killing the Reflection.

As she leads me
to the center of the,
Glass castle

Worlds of delirium
reach to my body.
Touching, pulling, violating
Words of the glass reflection
that stares back
and takes
my every movement.

As I stare again,
I see my ivory angel
she giggles in the reflection
sounding like chiming bells.
Her skin pure
like a porcelain doll

She cracks and shatters,
as my ears hear
The distant lament of lucidness.
The world blight,
Eroded to red.
Bittersweet mania,
flashed in my eyes.

I almost felt the kiss
of fragmented
Reflection
Scarlet,
dancing with
me in metallic glory,
As I fell through the Glass Castle
of the hooded man’s laugh.

in the riad
you thought you heard a siren sing to you
because the lucidness of the mediterranean breeze
set the place ablaze

in fact it was the midday prayer
a pulsating f sharp
cuts through the town
bringing all under the influence of him

the locals call this place chefchaouen
the blue city
conversation is rampant in this town
symphonies of language are scattered

weathered backs
wrinkles and creases that document
the plight of these creatures
they heave baskets
weighted by their livelihood

when night falls
all is intoxicated by the temperature
and nymphs scurry in the form of sand

in the riad
the siren sings to you again

By Arcassin Burnham

in a few pieces and left for leeches to
**** all the energy,
believing that you'll never find someone that'll
fit the description of your epitome,
that's what all people in this world go through
even if the're already in marriage,
knowing that something is wrong with the entire
thing , you thought you were in love ,bury it,
laughing at past mistakes like it didn't happen in
your life , that's the mistake you made,
the exes the keep calling and thirst is so small for
the things you wanna be and the things you say.

/

Days will get worse in every since of the words I say to
You,
Noone will have your back in these troubled times that
We get through,
Don't have remorse for people that look for attention in
This life,
Don't Make the same mistakes​ in this life thinking it'll
Be alright,

Hear and feel it come to me,
Bad energy in flares,
Find you lucidness that makes life work,
It's not empathy,
Will your love dwell,
Hell's Burning while God sees me Struggle.

Like a newborn
I am stimulated
By whatever is near

Discombobulated
Things become unfathomable
I’m unable to grasp
My surroundings

What is near and
What is far?

Distractions flow
Like tattered streamers
Waving from a
Parade float heading
To the junkyard

With blurs all around
Life becomes like
Circular bands of light
Emanating from streetlights
Along a foggy riverside highway

Whenever lucidness invades
Life seems simple,
And I realize
it is simple

All that is required
Is to traverse
Layer upon layer
Of  events and missions
Difficult to accomplish

How do I still endure this grueling test?
I guess that's why I smoke so much
but I can't use it to connect
I simply abuse it's elusiveness
heartbruises I lose it
so I cloud all of it's lucidness
I will never get used to theft...

Especially if you take my daughter from me..

That's indeed the way to fuel my death
but here's a never changing fact
she's my daughter, and she inherited
questions, some will be answered
untill my side of the truth is said

and that's why you'll never take her completely away from me
and that's why she'll never be able to completely break with me

And truth be told our marriage was more of a fusion
I would never wish what I feel now.. and what you do upon you
so why do you question me if it all was an illusion?

You're right
We as poets are
Self-amused entity  
Sane in thought  
Breathe with passion  
Dream circadian  
With the torrent of emotions  
  
We as poets
Look toward an open sky  
Communicate with cosmos  
Question lucidness  
Get something from nothing  
Glorify average, as special  
Feel everything, closer  
Spell, when have to  
Stay silent, when need to  
Touch, the untouched  
See, the hidden  
Honor: blood, sweat and tears  
Revive, the beauty of life  
Heal, the suffered  

With the recipe of words  
We as poets  
Yes, by default  
Go beyond norms  
Forget a lot, but not what should not  
Despite everything  
You're right

i. when i wake up my eyes are new again, if only for a brief second. the haze of lingering dreams makes the soft light coming from my window look like it has no edges. the remnants of the love i felt for you in my sleep whisks away into my pillows and back between the folds of my blankets. it keeps me coming back to bed, keeping me slumbering amongst the fog of feelings i no longer know.

ii. in the moments before i fall asleep, my brain boards a canoe made of fireflies and wishful thinking. the Giver of Sleep rows us both through the doorways to nightmares and archways of fantastical dreams. we drift on the currents of the dimly lit room my body lays in. when a door slams somewhere down the hall, the canoe shudders, the Giver flinches, lays his hands on the water to still its trembling. And allows me to sleep.

iii. the closest i've come to feeling like i'm flying is when my body thinks it's hurtling off a cliff before i fall asleep. the yank of lucidness tugging on the nape of my neck reminds me that for a few hours my body will come as close to dying as it ever has. my heart doesn't want to slow, my brain doesn't want to dim the currents. my synapses aren't quite prepared to go quietly.

iv. being awake has never held as much appeal to me as being asleep. you reside in my dreams, not in my arms.

v. i usually remember a lot about my dreams, but i never remember the laughter. is there ever singing laughter that the people of my imagination let loose in a burst of happiness? maybe i just never dream of things that are truly happy. maybe my mind wants a break from being pleasant. maybe it wants to be sad.

I love aesthetically sensualistic men,
elevated and blazingly fresh men,
a **** smile, profound pronouns,
astounding nouns, zestful, distinctive,
magnetic, competitive, complex, charismatic,
compassionate, open-minded, observant,
knowledgeable, and logical, harmonic hues
of delightful affection, their smooth flow,
their deep, equally smooth voice, modulated,
silvery, and soft-spoken.  Ambitious
and adventurous men.  Accomplished
and artistic men. Clean-shaven and bearded
men.  Innovative and inspirational men.
Sophisticated and spontaneous men.
Masculine and gallant men.  I celebrate
all amazing men, their groovy sweetness,
thrilling electricity, instrumentally metaphoric
shoulders and arms, and sweetly scented chests.
Men are so abundantly blessed and full
of heaven and smoothness, coolness
and lucidness, poetically intriguing,
a nouvelle novel of the greatest literature.
The cadence of their masculinity speaks to me,
so vulnerable in this moment, taking pleasure
in their warm and wondrously inviting escape,
their addictive and compelling song, divinely
delicious thighs and legs full of hard muscle
and nasty spitting lyrics.  I think of their great
power, how they intoxicate my mind
with their thought-provoking originality,
utterly buoyant, feeling so close in proximity
to their pleasing existence, every flawless
mural covered in priceless and reflective art,
their bodies a musicality of epic invitations
towards a destiny of limitless love languages.
I yearn to lay on their chests, feel their peacefulness
enter my cells, make me whole, make me forget
about the storms in my past, let their hands caress
me, hold me tighter, kiss me, make me miss it all
when they are so close to me, take me away
into their notorious nation, let me fall asleep
to their soothing voices whispering in my ear, so loved
and protected, invested in this fiery romance.

There was so much magnetic spice in your masculine flight,
so much dazzling delight, intensifying insight, dancing diction,
high friction, crazy conviction, your muscles so lovable, suckable,
wanting to cuddle with you, oh boy, do you know how much you
mean to me, the way you groove, your super smooth moves,
the way you rub your body down and around, feening for your
coolness and lucidness, so crazy about your captivating maze,
your blazing bright tattoos, your sleek, **** flesh so oiled up
and gorgeously developed, and I couldn’t help myself,
caught up in the magic of your paradise passion and flashy
flexing abs, all royally glorious, notorious, bound to you forever.

Your masculinity blossoms like flowery bliss, creamy deliciousness
melting on my soft, silvery *******, smoldering in your ecstasy,
in your broad and bulging bridges of penetrating perfection,
your poetically pleasurable ***, so rivetingly ripped, designed,
watermelon worlds of juicy sweetness, so pleasing to me, so eatable, flexible, nothing stronger than this moment here, relishing
the astonishing scenery within your dimension, the exhilarating
treasures, such detailed perimeters, exquisite geometry, a place
to call home, my desired dream for as long as I live.

lies in raving lips
and peerless eyes
In the very temple of delight
delirium takes her prize
hysteria kissing her foaming teeth
psychosis fills her sighs
asinity nestles deep
from warmth between her thighs
and leaving her is lucidness
filling final sounds with lies

Now that
My eyelids feel heavy,
Body is tired,
But I'm here
Rereading the poems
We have written,
With so much lucidness.
It isn't old,
It is as fresh
As if you have written it second ago.
It feels the same,
Hope and magic.
I wonder how!.

I think I’m falling in love with you,
with the smooth and sleek regions
of your impeccable flesh, with your
enchantingly starlight soul, your magically
lit swagger, your flexing framed dynasty,
how you roused my mind, how your
appealing sexiness entrapped me
in the depths of your amazing nature.
I yearned to be consumed by your masterful
beauty, feel your idyllic river flow through me,
embrace the elegantly made waves
as they take me deeper in your electrifying
desire, your symphony of magnificent dreams,
gravitationally reeled into the sound
of your bursting trumpets, rising seduction
in the darkened night where the stars rejoice
in the anticipation of our bodies crossing
a thousand bridges to meet in unity.
I wished to grasp your slim waist,
feel your skin sizzle mine, such passionate
heat intensifying, scalding me as I held
you tighter, so hypnotized by your blazing gaze,
your unspoken poetry revealing itself to me,
your crystal-clear messages uplifting me,
unfolding my thoughts, making everything
so uniform.  And I was covered in the shimmering
memories of your love that fell on my heart,  
the lustrous sparks exploding from within
like fireworks, entangled in your indescribable
melodies, so stupefied, sinking in the systematic
equations of your scintillating nation.
And I soared into the taste of your addictive
existence, the splendid curve of your lips
and hips, the lyrical lucidness of your
rhythmically shoulders and arms,
wanting to travel your ****** thighs,
legs, ankles, and feet with my fingertips,
drink your amplifying energy, experiencing
all the greatness in your kingdom.