Rain falls like a lead sheet beating
ages on my back. The water rises,
but through the muddiness of the dividing sea  
your light stands clear. You stand 
beyond my riverside,
the birth of Venus before my eyes.

Skin like seafoam and eyes
like amber coax my hands into fists, beating
ripples into your image that not even the riverside
rain and my own reflection could rise
over. As the waves ripple across your cheeks, I stand
to remember you are also across this sea.

Caught between this love like religion, the sea
breeze makes poetry of your hair in the wind, and my eyes
have never been drowned deeper. I have never had to stand
a love so murderous; even your mirror image gives my soul a beating.
All the while, the water rises,
crashing against the riverside.

Across the riverside,
your gaze is resolute and colder than the sea.
The sun rises,
to find her light breaking the horizon with her eyes
that held back whirlpools, beating
my soul with crashing waves of division, which I can no longer stand.

Too deep to stand,
dangers of the divide bound my desire. A prisoner to the riverside.
The chains of star-crossed lovers crash with the waves, beating
my sense into sea.
Pain is no stranger to your eyes.
The beauty of the sea would always rise.

Hurricanes beat you into perfection and you rise
and stand
above the ordinary eyes.
Storm-beaten and Tempest-tossed on this riverside,
A godly daughter of the ominous sea
has overcame a beating.

Beyond the riverside,
across the sea,
my heart is beating.

Bonjour Mon Cher,
As the stars rise and the moon lights, I meld you deeply. The time we spent together is so fruitful, with explorations of nature and a friendly company.  You whisk my motivation , the very nature of warmth and strength.  There has been times when my willpower to be strong has been crushed and trampled; muddled in the muddiness of the overflowing pond.

As the duck glides on the rippled calm water, I picture your essence. As it strolls on the waters, deep in thoughts yet conscious and aware of its existence; there you are in the calmness, the stillness of the wavelet. As the duck sets to rise, it flutters. I sensed your edginess and the indecisiveness you have burdened all your life. Indeed, your life has been a challenge. Breath in,feel free and submerge in the depths of the ponds. Then rise again and explore the skies above, for brief moments escape in the dense freshness. Set your being  in the briefness of ecstasy, the succinctness of forever. For your essence is ambient and radiant.

My being is filled with warmth and a reminiscence of the great days. The times when the chariots with it’s magnificent horses would flow in the saccharine grounds. The time frame when the yellowish hue of the daffodils bloomed and shone their beauty to the world. The touch cascading the shivers from one neurone to the next in sequenced loops. The ever-condensed electric magnetism. My mind explodes with the synchronicity of the beauty sacrificed by yours. My soul has woken from it’s hibernation, its departing the doorway of the cave. The cave laid with layers of secrets, mystery and mystic existence.

The nip of the earlobe tip is a pleasure I pass. A chance to trace the resonance of my whispers. More so, a declaration of my naiveness. The statue poising on the plinth of the Romany windows in declaration that she does not understand many things. It’s in the whisper her beauty, my representation. The words that she wants to transpire but as such there is never enough time. Neither is there an eternity, but snippets of memories and moments.

Let me deep inside, to see every thought, to hear every dream to touch the breath of every sound. The existence of everyday living is absent and helpless. However, to love one is to embrace all. Someday, I wonder how we exist in such a dichotomy of life. I would like to hold you and touch you. To feel your oneness coursing in my blood and mind. I try and try to see above this existence. To touch and dream of the beauty, to collapse in the core of the humanness. My drug is ingested in the craziness of realness, an authenticity of the façade that we don day in and out.

Yet as the wind we fade in and out. When our insides are hollow and empty, drenching in lonely paths. But we stand un-fainted and feint. In the chaos of uncovering the curiosity and the depths awaiting to be exploded as the volcano boils. I want you to know that I am alive in your presence, I am real, I am me. This is one of the very rare connections I have had and I respect it. Hope not to whelm with my ambiguousness or eccentricity. I have no expectations and I am not wanting to be owned or own. Tis’ you giving the hungry eyes and Tis’ me who hope you can see beyond my interior.

In retrospection and introversion, welcome to the pleasures and treasures.

Be you,
SassyJ

It seems as if you come
at the right time
every Monday,
every Wednesday,
every Friday;
when the sun hits the windows perfectly
and the sunbeams cast spotlights
on the dust-mites dancing in the room.
Even the muddiness of my eyes
become filled with gold.

But maybe it isn't because of the sunlight.
Maybe it's because my eyes longed to imitate the light in yours.

*—S.C., March 12, 2014

I got 3 cute CDs - one a folk-country, the two others jazz
Some "different" clothes, with all their razz-a-ma-tazz
a box of diet candy that I thought was just dandy
and a nice Adele CD from one of the nurses here at the hospital
that ring a bell
Trendiness-wise in my subconscious,
a sweat suit from the state American Legion Auxiliary
So I can go out and jog with Hillary,
just kidding,
that would be too titillating
and exhilarating
for me
two books on conservationism that deserve some study
some toiletries,
two magazine subscriptions
for when things get murky,
nothing for muddiness
but then I'm not outside much.

The floral chants of nature
expressing themselves as terrestrial rainbows,
these are  hymns of peace and love.

These coniferous trees and their pointed leaves,
showing a tapering effect,
these signal the narrow end of our beautiful life.

These random stones scattered on dusty trails,
these are irregular in shape but in their irregularity is a regularity of irregularity,
these signal the chaos of life and the hidden order within.

These dusty roads and resulting muddiness upon a shower,
shows the shades of light brown and dark brown,
signalling the shades of the same person in sun and when in rain.

Here I am sitting by a stone,
staring at the gorge below,
One day I will be pushed through this gorge deep below, this is inevitable,
but before I am pushed, I must learn to fly.

This is the purpose of my life.