Oh Gravitas,
dearest vineyard Spring
Avalon mists and quietude
on high Everest summit's
clarity

Oh winsome lover
how all your breezes kissing
cool on my young island skin
     learning in my wild solitude
     away from the lassitude
of desperate pangs of impoverished men
families of mine...

Why is it, in the crickets' strings
as they lull the day beyond
as the blood orange bruises to blues
and shadows to ocher
     the char on murdered campfires
     once full of dance, charismatic
     surfaces of twilight seas
why is it the only tinsil and sparkle
the coconuts know
     silver and neon golden
spirit fingers
and as I squat
early evening relieving myself
commingling with starlit you:
   
    My soft hush of song
Palm leaves and mangroves, indigo
invisible fingers strumming
the humidity like harps
     wind gusts, the bush, cavorts ...

summers without but all open windows

How close we were then
when I ran lonely in toddler ******
and all around me
your Gaia fairies in the brine
and precipitations...

(misty breath of crashing beaches
waves constant partcipation)

Without language I learned by you
ate the sour leaves and red peppers
stealing pan de sal in windows
     obvious village gifts for the sprites
that I believed I'd become,
     without fear or ingrained social dread
no anger, nor words making up
the links of invisible chains
to keep me within their boxes...

I understood
without diction
You were and are the loveliest
vision ever I've seen
ever I awed
at first sight / all of you/ around me
all mine
a pulse in my heart...

I wipe my *** with smooth papaya leaves
now that the night has conquered
the high ceiling
now the wonder twinkling
clearer now
your jewelry treasures of stars
dangling on a darker face as beautiful
as the heat of it bright
during the days / your face...

Oh love, even as a shadow
in the abyss of midnight,
in chill evenings,
I am the blaze of the fires,
a rustle through the brush
     a yipping cub
     snarling at playing
a Lion

All yours, My Goddess
I would keep you dearest to me
and prevent any danger
from any that would destroy or harm
the vary face of our world
its bountiful's : your loving
nature / life

How close we are
and ever will be
even in man's mechanisms of impending
war
even 'til the very end
together in the fires we raise
with the mornings praise
and in finale I will descend
take the fall
For you

Life of my life,
myself for you as sacrifice
just say when...
I'll be your champion
and best-est friend

(Against the horizon's backdrop
a shadow of a small boy
is shadow-boxing the emptiness around him)

I am Lamb and Lion.
P.S. I Love You.                
                                Sincerely - your Champion

Pretty things
Like Kath kidston florals
And open fires and cheery wine
Harrowed souls are repaired by music
Minds grow hazy from *** smoking
Clean air that was dusted with magical sparkles
Now choked by perplexing precipitations…..
Atmosphere surrounded by regret
Whilst the act is still submerging from chaotic emotions
Remorseful tears do not appear until alone
Until the tide of the ocean reaches minds
When they are isolated from the world and all it brings
Nothing but sorrow consuming body and soul
Like a cantankerous person within person
Scratching from inside out
Until lyrics are sung to the world
Declarations of apologetic notions
‘Im sorry, I love you, Im sorry, I love you…’

Nothing else can be said.

Sitting in this warm house
I look out the window that keeps me safe inside
I look through to a snowy paradise

Man, it looks beautiful...
from in here at least
but the grass chokes beneath the suffocating snow
and the glittery ice on dead trees weighs the branches down.

From inside this season is a pleasant scene,
In reality, tragically beautiful.
Nature's remnants shrouded by frozen precipitations.
     How can each single unique snowflake band together to push cars off of roads?
     And seal doors shut?

Winter you are real,
     A crazy gorgeous, yearly event
with the power to make us slow down,
                                                   or stay in.

Winter you are a force to be observed and not challenged.
Sometimes you freeze us,
but you always look spectacular.

The everlasting wisdom perpetually transforms. It narrates unknown,
Uttering the verses of its love in winds and snows.

It rains and calms from day to day,
It ceases only in the summertime;
For a halt
Is also gay in its own way.

It will urge precipitations,
Warn us,
Coax us to beat in flocks.
While it never leaves a mark
On the azure dome,
For the ceiling is the face,
It has traces on the boiling rock,
Ancient earth,
And on my holey socks.

The holy "wisdom" is
Merely the way perceived
By me.
Solely an imaginary bliss.

Though the mind elevates,
Sublimes it. After, states
That the chemical occasional coition,
Which is way up high,
Bears all the answers,
To my weird childish whys.

In the late hours of early morning,
Precipitations of the day before,
Lay there like caked makeup,
On a face waiting to be deplored.

The sun makes for a good shadow,
Blackening irises, making optimism crawl,
Then when the night arrives,
You see black spots on every wall.

Your soul develops a stutter,
Hiding away in the side of the moon,
Loneliness is not a disease,
It's a cure for a remorseful afternoon.

Down with every gulp of too sweet tea,
Every resentful thought is fighting to win,
Every second hand image
You see in the eyes of a foreign set of limbs.

You're yearning to wipe the world away,
Just to mask your green footsteps,
And when nobody's looking,
You'll bury all those versions of yourself that you've kept.

truly a sky
made of sly seabirds
precipitations

First Venetian recording
of Aqua Alto was Oct 17
AD 589. Without exception,
and to no greater heights,
these precipitations have
continued to occur annually.

This proves that rising sea
levels (which is attributed)
to global warming, is all a
sham. But as history has
revealed, the vast majority
of the world, are dupable.