The new city
I await to be ascended
For hath we planted or vented
The bullets we pile upon mounds?

Wherein creation dumbs down!!!

To mammal inferiors!!!

For God is superior
Haveth we lost that translation?
Wherein the cities
And nations
Hath become their own diety!!!

Spewing mouths
Canst hardly be fed
Wherein the living amongst the dead
Are non-compassionate!!!

Loosen
Or fasten it
Thy belts likely to come unmanaged
Where's the advantage
In the hate thou war among another?

Sister and brother!!

Hath thou forgotten thy kin?

For thou lost all
Nothing!!!!

Is it thee that shalt win?

Thee greedy of new-aged Noah's generation!!!

Is it fornications
Ability
Of **** and *******
To liken thine senses?
For where art thy lenses?
Thou Freemasons of mother earth!!!

For its thy curse
Thou hast brought
Amongst thy children

Thy diaries
Art thy legacies!!!

I often cry when writing my love poems


this secret, yet-not-so-secret, for the words become
blurry birthed by the amniotic fluid of encasing tears,
and when I write, wearing my emotions on my sleeves,
for wiping my cheeks, nose leaking, because I write of
sorrow supreme, that has no solution, pain repetition-dulled,
yet, provoking each time for the words bubble up, of-course,
it is love, in its thousands of reincarnations, coming to haunt,
the lost, the unfound, thinking of
my parents,
my children,
my lovers,
come, gone and
those who stay…

I bemuse myself thinking, each tear a lost poem, removed
by sleeve or tissue, wiped away, lost, irretrievable forever…
but these yellowed memories forever and ever refreshed
by sea spray and wind, my face absorbs their unique nutrients,
and love and pain rebirthed as if it was the happenstance of
today, and the poem water tank just goes on and on being refilled…

I’m a renaissance woman.
Not in the sense that I’ll birth your children, and keep a perfect clean house
I am a Muse.
I rebirthed and reclaimed my mind and body
Away from the Dark Age of adolescence
So, I can finally feel present in my own skin

I’m a renaissance man in a woman’s body
Not in the sense that I feel trapped in the wrong time, place or body
But that I've become skilled in many fields
I will never stop trying to better myself
I have designed and engineered a par of perfect wings.

I guess you’ve never seen an angel in disguise
But unlike Icarus, my wings can hold me,
So, ******* Leonardo, I’m a better renaissance woman than you were a renaissance man

Laying in bed today, listening to tunes
          As I so often do
A feeling encroached, one I could not shake
          Or attempt to lose
The sound of sadness, through the microphone
          Blew the dust from my aging bones
Sunlight diffused, into the tomb
          Of my desolate room
Shadows scattered, from their thrones
          To reveal four walls of stone
Flowers dressed, this cold gray place
          Where I woke from rest
Bare and unburdened, my blemished fleshed took its first steps
          Bent but not broken, rebirthed, awoken

One brain, one mouth, one being - nothing more!
I’ve killed my selves so many times
My own womb has suffered crimes,
To be a poet have I tried
But my ink has gotten dry.
Rebirthed myself as man - for the poems, for the words, nothing more
Everything missed Dionysus like never before!

A different life among you have I led!
Deprived myself of all life gives
In dark, alone and cold I wept.
Destitute and desperate now,
My heart freezing on a lonely bough.
The bulb above my brow is hanging by a single thread and when
It falls and breaks to pieces they will know that I am dead.

Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Blind me at least so I can mock the Sun!

With shut eyes they think I am illiterate,
Primordial is the essence and I am her son.

They want me to dance at the feet of chance!
Embrace chaos in my attic,
Die a young and worthy addict.
Forced to live in Hölderlin’s tower
As nothing more than a wilting flower.
My words trembled but were barren, devoid of romance,
So my poetry never made anyone dance.

I clipped my wings so I can drink with sailors,
Walk amongst them on my frail feet,
To be man is all I ever wanted,
Chugged the nectar of life which made me sick.
Oh, men! How fragile you are!
Slowly poisoned by the time you try to escape
‘Meaningless is existence’ you say as you create!

Come sleep - or come death, 
I can see no difference. 

Poverty through poetry, the most human way to go,
Come sleep - or come death,
Let me go.

He wanted to be human - the humanest of them all - a poet!
He wanted to put pain on paper - even make it rhyme
He wanted to be the one to hear the screams of time.
And as the light faded and the bulb broke,
Darkness came wearing mistress clothes.
‘Oh, men! How strange you really are!’ - he yelled.
‘Dionysus! What a man you have become!’ - she said.
Then he disappeared swearing to never return,
Thinking that poetry is for those who like to burn.

The transgressions of utter here and nowity
Unbeleivable longing for a collapsing norm
On the altar of self destruction and causal
Reciprocity fluttering on rebirthed dreams

You can sing and love these colorful birds
Vibritang meticulously with rare palpitations
Of greater bodies, which dust is a part of us
Delusional creatures, flying on the grandeur

Non reachable to written words, stellar ink is
Spilled, playing on the shores of ever returning
Waves of transformation; Shapes dance within
Your gaze, telling the story of water coy stillness

Unmovable we move on, unlovable we love hope
Clinging to tree roots and blood veins as clothes
Warm our trembling fragile figures travelling on
And on into the higher realms of transfiguration.

Carla told me to infiltrate.
To ignore all the precautions,
And breach my resistance under a full moon.

After all, she said, your sadness isn’t a disguise.
Your gloom is genuine, although prefabricated,
Surely you see the blueprint.

You have planned your demise since childhood,
Carefully constructing a fortress of self-abuse,
You don’t self-medicate, she said, you obliterate,

And then you wear your inadequacy like a crown,
As if to say no one feels pain like me.
This blow of sorrow, your prevailing wind,
The smell of burnt hair follows you, your melancholy assaults.

God, I can sense your anxiety blocks away, Carla told me,
Even if I’m baking chicken *** pie
And drinking breakfast tequila,
There is always this gust of despair.
And your current ability to fester a modest nausea,
In everyone, everywhere you go,
While amazing,
It only convinces, even your intimates,
That you have begun an irreversible decay.
Jesus, either you act now or you will disappear, Carla said.

You have one option, Carla told me,
Confront yourself and
Think about death honestly every day.
It is the only way for a depressive,
A man in a life jacket, she said
To survive.

Comfort yourself early, before dawn,
Curl up with your litter of pillows
And in that storm, that tornado you pretend is a bed,
Lie still, stare at the cracks in your ceiling
And search for spiders, Carla told me.
Wait until the disappointment of waking up alive again, subsides,
She said,
And while the sounds of the toilet you left running all night,
Convince you of the futility of self-improvement,
In this hollow moment,
Allow yourself to passively, selfishly, contemplate death.

Do not conjure up the act of dying, Carla said,
It is deviant and corrupt and insincere to rehearse your final moments,
And as you know, she continued,
I have no inherent objections to suicide.
After all war is mass suicide
And where would we be without violence,
Jesus, nothing would ever get done, so no, she said,
This is not that at all.

And God knows with your ego,
If I tell you to think about death,
You will descend into hero worship, she said,
Or worse, martyrdom and quest,
No, Carla said, imagine what death is like,
Think scientifically about what it means to be dead.

I will never get out of bed, I replied,
If I’m encouraged to wallow.
If I roll over before I wash my arms and feed my birds,
I may recoil forever.
You know I have an addiction to thought, I reminded her,
An adhesive meme,
(Why did that woman throw her cat in the garbage can),
Will arrest and detain me for an entire day.

It’s worth it, Carla said,
I want you to understand the carefulness of death,
The miracle of pain in absence,
The cessation of doubt,
The sudden end of futility and horror,
And I want it to absorb you, all of you,
Until you become reassured of its tenderness,
The fairness and equality that ends all things.

There is no need to frustrate,
To pray for significance, Carla advised me,
Free yourself from heroism and
Your self-destructive pattern of wishful thinking.

As it is, the number of women you sleep with and discard
Should be punishable by jail time,
When will you learn that fulfillment will never be a number.

And your attempt to write a novel,
Is tiresome, the delusion insulting,
The pretense unforgivable.
And the lies you tell,
The anger you express,
Mostly from a stool,
Undermines everything you claim to be.

You have a mirror,
Probably one that hasn’t been cleaned in a century
So use it,
Study the creases in your face,
Your boxer’s bruised eyes,
Jesus, why do you always look like you’ve just lost a fistfight.

I stared at Carla, my cup of coffee warm between two hands.
Ok I get the death is my reward thing, sort of, I said
But how do I salvage any joy at this point,
Is my life, my whole ******* life, going to be a stockpile of misery.

Christ, you are a perpetual novice, Carla said,
And I have the feeling you are about to drool,
Listen,
Death isn’t our reward,  
But to those who corner it,
A well worthwhile prize.

I don’t want you be puzzled by outcomes anymore, Carla said,
Do they like me, do they hate me, do they even know I exist,
You must stop chasing and being overwhelmed,
Be consumed, be rebirthed by the attractiveness of irrelevance,
Empower yourself with insignificance,
Forgo your Causa sui willingly,
Surrender your need for meaning, purpose and story
And go sit on a bench for a year, nothing more.

You must allow the softness of death to befriend you, Carla said
And when you do,
You will stop being impulsively afraid of everything,
Perish your self-serving search for an absolute truth,
Accept your limits without choking on your limitations,
And your confusion will degrade, she advised.

Carla frowned and turned away from me.
Usually a crow flies by when we part.
If you **** yourself, I want to be there, she said.
She undid the top button of her coat,
Took off the necklace with the crucifix and the picture of John Lennon,
Threw it into the East river,
And squeezed my hand as brief and sudden as a ghost.

I got lost in a feeling, pried myself open to be understood when every part of my nature said to conceal. I wanted to feel human like the rest of them, I wanted to stop feeling so alien. Distance had become me so I exposed myself and now I’m faltering. My deepest crevices of thought are now known, this openness that kills me has also served me. I realized I was raw art, that the strokes of a paint brush within the walls of my mind were defined by complexities of thought echoing so loud until my lips sung my soul once again. I realized that not everyone could simply understand and I wanted to revoke all I said, I wanted to close myself again but I couldn’t erase the damage already done…
Well I got lost in a feeling, I became slave to it and did all I could to serve this unquenchable thirst that my soul holds. I grab at my heart with both hands and clench so tight at the restraints of this suit of skin that keeps me held in. I felt like painting the walls with my brain and it wasn’t for my disdain towards this life I lead, I was actually fond of life but that’s the thing. See I was so devoured by a moment, that I couldn’t bare letting go, and I knew time would shift and the faces would change but I was so loyal I didn’t want to adapt. I was in love with everyone I knew and life was tearing us apart, breaking us down and I saw the light behind so many eyes that used to burn with the intensity of the sun, fall so dim it resembled an empty void and one by one iron wills were broken.
I felt like crying in rooms full of people, when the alcohol was long gone and everyone escaped but I just sat there absorbing the fact that I was the only one present. That I got so lost in this feeling, in this very moment, I could no longer run. So I waited patiently for intoxication to leave my mind and I walk outside to my car, I put the key in the ignition and drive. The sun is now rising and there’s a baby blue fuzz surrounding me. I parked in front of my house and thought about the hell that awaits for me behind closed doors. So I drove, I broke free, I gave myself away to the bohemian screaming to be set free. Reality was sure to crash upon me, I looked at the sun while it caved in and I called up an old friend but was reminded of how desolate a moment can be when the answering machine fooled me...
I looked out the window and everyone was going on with their lives in full acceptance. The man walking to the grocery store, the people gathered around the bus stop, and I fell slave yet again. I parked the car in the parking lot behind the bus stop being sure to lock my keys inside so I wouldn’t turn back and dug for some change and I walked up to the bus stop as the bus was just arriving, this moment I can only describe as fate. I dreamed of a clean slate and it was right there in front of me the whole time, my life became centered around riding the busses and people watching. I dug my head in a book in fear of being noticed but somehow I feel as if my deepest fear was my only hope now.
So I was waiting for the right moment, a moment to set my mind free on some poor individual and then the bus stopped, it was late and I was the only one on now. Some of the bus drivers knew me by name and I didn’t know whether to feel proud or pathetic about that but as the bus screeched to the stop before the last one. I saw a leg extend, and pull up a person of slender figure, it was a beautiful woman around my age, I felt sorry for her because the only stop after this one was the bus station and that’s where the bus driver awkwardly kicks you off and tells you to go home.
This is the moment that got me, I was in complete and utter submission as I buried my head into an upside down book, the title read “I am the messenger” and out of all the seats she picked the back corner next to me, she sat too close and I couldn’t focus on my book at all, I was too caught by her presence, I didn’t even realize my book was upside down. She looks down towards my book and doesn’t say a word as she adjust it to be right side up and pats the book twice, almost to assure it will stay upright. I looked over to her with my empty cold eyes and starred dully and she smiled a sweet, closed eye smile.
The coals in my head must had found the furnace again because in that moment I was relit, the fire behind my eyes roared and my soul was awoken again. I felt so very human but I also felt so very human, my shyness lead me to falter and she linked her arm to mine and said “do you mind?” I hadn’t spoken in so long, so very long, I almost forgot how and I said “uh-uh… of course” I clear my throat immediately after and say “I would introduce myself but I don’t believe in names” she smiled with understanding and told me to read aloud and I did with no questions. Two chapter later the bus screeches to a halt and the bus driver gestures for us to leave.
The girl grabs me by the wrist and guides me away, we start walking to a diner that you can see the light to in the far distance. Nothing existed besides for us as far as I was concerned, only the path beneath our feet. She starts telling me how she’s seen me before that she’s been watching me from a distance, and she knew I road the bus all the way to the end and that she wanted to ask me why but I couldn’t tell her why exactly because I didn’t know myself.
So I said what I felt “I fell out of existence and the bus helps me feel like I exist” she smiles again and we are just now sitting down for stale coffee and waffles. She starts drawing on napkins asking me questions, the first one read “why did you fall out of existence?”
I scribbled down “I didn’t feel human” and slid it back to her.
She flips the napkin over and writes a simple “why?”
And I scribble down “well that’s hard to explain”
and she writes “well I can understand”
and right as she slides the napkin over the waffles arrive and the sun is rebirthed as it rises and she looks at me and says “it’s a baby blue fuzz you know?”
As she stuffs a fork full of waffle into her mouth. I’m breathless and overwhelmed by a moment that can only be explained by fate and I feel like crying but I disguise it with a yawn. I write down on a new napkin “I think I feel human” and I crumple it up and put it in my pocket.
She asked what I wrote and I respond “the moment."

i will put on my dress and slip on my shoes
and look myself in the eyes.
me to me
saying goodbye.

goodbye to all the hatred.
goodbye to all the anger.
goodbye to all the jealousy.
goodbye to me.

i will lay down on the earth
waiting to be absorbed into the rich soil
and pray and pray and pray

that when i am rebirthed.
i am every bit as beautiful
but new.

There were places in the above and below where souls
weren't as they were meant to be. Reverberations of what
had been but for some reason not known, they had dissipated
in to inconsistent particles. They were congregated to a
place of between the realms of passing where they were
reinstated into one. Many pieces made the collection of singular.

A rebirth of separation, that which was collected into a shell
of purest mortal coils. In moments that ebbed away on thoughts
and maturity something was noticed upon the eyes of those
classed as the shepherds, They were of flesh and bone but a
vessel of angels essence, no beat was felt but life of our own
non understanding reverberated in these vessels.

So long had these chosen gathered the pieces that were rebirthed.
a freshness not tainted by either as in the fire the dead the
soulless shards were consumed in the eternity furnaces.
Some gathered in moments, others lingered in their, as if
like ash in a breeze they were inadvertently kept asunder.

Like a leaf they eventually descended and lingered amongst
others that had scorched for longer than even those now
gravitating towards its centre of rebirthed oblivion.
They never thought for a moment that what had been a
metaphysical collection of particles was anything but echoes
of voices incoherent and desolate.

But now as what has happened only a few times in eternity
is spilling like water from a broken vessel. So many have
spoken in the dead language of even angels understandings
but the fragmenting scribbles that vacate their minds saturate
in a repeating rhythm.

"We burnt with our eyes wide open,

So many voices expelled in a pool of white, transparent
vestiges lingered beneath but no ripples were ever realized
till they had gazed beneath and where censorship was
consummated overhead so the lingering wailing below
was all consuming so much affliction was bestowed on
these now seeded souls.

They were never broken remnants of whispered echoes
but were indeed a embryo of a matching of heaven and
hell a new partnering that was misread as feathers lingering
in the winds of eternity. But where a new higher purpose
was meant to have been birthed so now do they burn not
for but a flickering moment but an inaudible amount of time.

Speech of what was singular now birthed into a perplexed
culmination of uncooperative wailing incensing each others
needing's. That was for those at least the yearning to not be
entwined in the illuminated combustion of self. But they were
imprisoned, fashioned into a vessel of multitudes not meant
to be, but only a singular existence was meant to cinder into form.

They wallowed in surreal thoughts, memories of a life that
was a broken picture frame and the faces were etched out so
not even they knew who or when they were from. but the
shepherds were there salvation or so it was thought.
They simultaneously gathered those that were swallowed
in a realm of an uneasy reality. Then they chanted, for hours
they spoke the words, Our wordings will set you singular again.

But what befell those that guided shepherds was unexpected.
They screamed in either ecstasy or writhing pain, but then as
If a curtain fell. Then all that was mortal shed into oblivions
grasp and it consumed them the shepherds were engulfed in
shards of personality till they themselves were twisted in visions.

Their eyes wept one like onyx bleeding frosted tears of all that
was pure, the other like snow but as the raven tears cut upon
there features and blood teared on the floor they grappled
with what had befallen them for these acolytes that for this
instance that joined in ceremony now had not fallen or ascended
But were the rebirth of neither but vessels of everything.

Those of fractured echoes, those entwined with the crematorium
of broken vessels now ascend and descend to the places which
greeted these seeds with such distain. After a time all went still,
silent, within each  realm and they just sat their. Each hand greeted
the flame or light and within their grasp a new spirit was born
not burnt but eased over time and like a seed they grew once more.

A lost, dark star
Resisting the relentless pull of a black hole,
Taking, draining, breaking,
Its light could not escape.

Approaching the Event Horizon
A high-energy collision;
Caught in the gravitational pull
Of another, kindred star.

An expanding universe
Unleashing the power of creation.
Darkness recedes, banished,
Twin suns shimmer, renewed, rebirthed

This is us; you are the star that saved me,
The universe blazes with innumerable others,
Your light outshines them all.

The leaking beauty such as rebirthed life
And of the muddy earth slowly reclaimed
Persephone’s return, a dance of strife
Returning vividness, again, unmaimed
Escaping the monochromatic cell
By return of green, such luscious pigment
By Flora’s grace and by the Shepherd's bell
Revive events long free of merriment
The songbirds relearn their forgotten tunes
The bees prepare to collect flowered boons

Hibernation ending, returns routine
With warmth radiating, freely flowing
Crawling from thy shallow cave, sunlight seen
Flecked through dewdrops caught in Spider’s sewing
A land of new dawns, forgiving thieves
The fruit yet unblossomed, life is still ripe
The tree naked, still missing its leaves
Coverings absent before the first gripe
The animals hunger to end their fast
Humans hunger to remember the past

Come, serenity destroying pigment
Rend the ebony earth delicately
Spread your lovely, inebriating scent
And thus, set every fashion of life free
Free from that immaculate white prison
Free to frolic in fresh fields, unrestrained
The sun, in more wakefulness, risen
To maintain, nature’s mischievous work reined
In preparation for the coming time
The time of heat, growth, and color sublime

heavy clouds hang loftily
in the somber grayed skies
as infant drops begin their proud descent
tiny kamikazes upon our bare skin
like kisses from butterflies

the moan of muffled thunder
interrupts the tremolo whispers of the rain
as our naked toes dig into the earth's
sticky-wet clay

laughter drips from your wind-burnt lips
like the droplets from your hair
scents of sweet-rain and mellow-mud
wafting through the air

your wrinkled-prune hand nests within mine
as we slosh and shiver upon rebirthed earth
baptismal puddles swallowing our steps
our sins begin to dry

heather why did you
come at this time, in the
midst of all the cacophonous
panic? forgiveness aside, i know
you're lifting lids from my
third eye, a gift you always had
in life, you still share selflessly
from the other side.

heather why did you
leave so ripe, in the
mist of a summer's moonset
cultivating cold? all my guilt
creates blockages, it cannot
fit inside me, it sits instead
as a crown in a place from which
you would pluck out both
horns and halos, and toss them
while laughing, into the stillness
of the sound.

i know these false records and
moon shifting memories are not
all i am left with. last night
when you laughed, it relieved some
of the pressure, but many times
i've seen you laugh when you were
sad, so how do i pull this
fringe all together?

heather why did i
ignore you for so long? was it just so
the scale could tip now, or are there
signals in the circles of the ripples
that rebirthed you?

I once loved a woman so,
left my wife, my young baby children,
desperate desolate for a scrap of
a reason to exist.
her, the other woman,
welcome was unquestioning,
she was an answer.

you may judge me,
I've paid and pay on-

but this is not the taken tale,
verily, I have come to write.

Jennifer her name,
was my savior,
took me from the cross unbearable,
washed my feet, covered my wounds
rebirthed me a new man.

weak was me,
fell fallow to cries,
whimpers of the weak,
weakened me worse
and she said

go,
bewitched man,
magic enough to defeat
the wicked one,
but not
the weak ones,
I don't possess,
you have to have
metal in your mind,
rock steady,
maybe you do,
maybe you will,
but no crutch of steel
can I be forever.

but this is not the taken tale,
verily, I have come to write.

what I remember best,
the love I lost for
the lesser love I gave up
and took back
as a lessened and lessoned man
is this:

my chest, my heart,
for months, not weeks,
for months, not weaks
of words,
hurt so bad I
could not believe,
my life forfeit,
this heartache palpable,
was real beyond belief

when I went to the
emergency room, the doctors,
stethoscope-confirmed,
my tearing-warped, embodied mind,
had no prescription, no surgery,
for what ailed the failed man.

when in the street would see her,
in the elevator trap, smelled her smell,
for seconds I was triangulated,
until lost sight, and was ill-mis-positioned
once again in a shaft that could only go
down.

Shortly thereafter,
took up pen and paper
bad damage to repair
and began to write,
decades worn, pen nub'd
the writing,
never thereafter,
stopped or ceased.

now I ask you plain
straight from the
place of pain,
that is almost healed,
tho twenty years,
the damages are still
upon my persona claimed,

for this is the taken tale,
verily, I have come to write.

how do you like your poet's poet now?

not so much?

Twelve twelve Friday morn.
Soon bay breathe, hallelujah .
Nookery rebirthed..

i

As the wartorn baby lied down on the middle eastern battlefield,
The tanks rolled in, the bombs struck heavy, as poured out sin,
It seemed for the young girl no living was as this was to be dreamt, her night-mares becameth real, her spirit of her hath left

ii

The sunshine was eclipsed, as the sarin and mustard gas blimped
The grenade's made servant's, out of the gentle and innocent,
And hatred was spread between the lies, of the media outlet's channel, terrorist rolled their eyes, as burn's smoked the flannels

iii

These brute's woreth green in verdant camouflage grass anger
Were friends before their war, now rebirthed as killing strangers
Yet there was one soldier who put down her exploding bomb's
An saidst "I want war none more" , as was a girl of holy god

iv

She screamed to her lung's, (" canst thou all seeith this is of the devil? I am not one to **** mine brother! I am a messenger of the celestial levels") as the death bringer's heard this, their eye's began to run, they've forgotten of their lovers, and their own love



v

As this girl who was a terrorist, not by her own hand was given
Remembered she was forced, by the men of evil torture and livings, Though she abandoned the war, the evil man hath put upon her, her soul overcameth, with God in the those wartorn flames, for that girl remembered at that moment, she being gods daughter.....




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry

The door never relinquished its grip,
baneful whispers knocked endlessly
non where heard but some screamed.

Clamouring upon senses worth, edging
them towards deliriums shade. Wishing
to open lingering to be again rebirthed.

But wood inscribed knots hidden where
eyes did not linger, few could see what it
forcibly entombed, kept forever concealed.

There are many bushes that linger outside
its view, these are the souls that dared to
knock once now obscured.

It will keep knocking on the veil, waiting
for it true intent now cunningly revealed. 
Who will be its bearer, who will keep it entombed.

*"Can you hear the door knocking will you
seek its shrouded truths,

~a unconscious commissioned poem~

<>

La Lumière est une Dame d'honneur

advantage Frenchies,
everything sounds
better in their language,
we readily concede

we make do
with those tongues
whose fluidity
clothes & coats,
those,  we are
best at
confessing in

first light this morning
was emasculated, in thickened
first fog, eerie, discomforting,
but yet, mine alone to utilize,
and make discomfiture into
a poem of coffee and cream,
stirring within, colored dreams

Lady Light finally arrives,
descending on a staircase
from heaven, radiating all
with patience, the animals
all, proclaiming in a thousand
tongues, their thanks, their
love, for everything breathing
understand best she is the source
of creation, reanimation, and a
sharing, unsparing, birth mother
to animate and inanimate, and
the death father to all we & us,
guide to our ultimate end

the waiting is most interesting,
for indeed, there is honor within,
as I compose, the sunrises to the
precise angle to bar my vision,
power to blind and enlighten,
how can this be, but it is so,
my bones warmed, suggest I
do not complain, accepting with
no exception for this is the power
source to us all, and humility is
the key to acceptance & understanding

is this poem, is this the missive,
me~my, intended, to write,
know not,
for the words leech from my skin,
in format uncolored, uncontrolled
by mine minuscule impoverished
compost of senses, morals and my
compote of cells that are products
of a thousand prior generations

morphed into a mess of me,
as of yet, purpose hidden,
undisclosed, perhaps my
reasoning is unseasoned,
my presumption of purpose,
is just a fool’s ridiculousness

Lady Light smiles kindly on my
rambunctious ilreasoning,
for I just one of billions come,
gone, and rebirthed in chains
of endless possibilities, two
words permanently paired,
conjoined, and though the
light has now risen to heights
to totally absolve my sight,
can no longer track what
is being written, accepting my
temporally blindness with grace,
even with solace, and-bid you
adieu, adieu, (bye~bye)
so musically,
until relief will
honor me with its presents…

and I can contemplate my
foolishness once more…
and the letting…
of the
Lady’s light
of
honor illuminating
(even me)

<>
commissioned by Pradip

7:35 am
in the sunroom where
the intersection of all light
illuminates all kinds

<>

music:
To Try for the Sun, Song by Donovan
Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In by Fifth Dimesion

Rebirthed into cold waters,
with saint Sebastian's arrows falling on our foreheads,
leaving a penitent blood dripped on my lips. You kissed it off me like it was honey.
I wanna meet you again on a desolate hillside,
with a punctured bicycle
without a Salford lad narrative.

Splitting my lip,
on your ivory messages of total control
and I love it.


I want to ******* while you're wearing figure skates
until marble floors grind down to Henry Moores.
You are paradise, found.
Dante's balming embrace.
It was a bright and soothing daytime.
You were ticking the right boxes so often that pencil went through paper and stained my knee with graphite while I was left figuring out a composition,
of a portrait of the artist as a young fan of your beauty.  
as we fell lips-first and made head on collisions look like speedbumps.

Beautiful woman,
Write yourself in the orchid air
With your flowering hair
And your well matched strides in white trainers.

One-of-a-way woman,
Take your time in the daisy weeds
Or the yellow breeds
You pluck with thumb and four fingers.

Sighing woman,
What did you see in the sycamore creek?
Did the gurgling mold froth pinch your cheek
You stirred with kashmir hand?

Beauteous day, crossed the sky with silver trails
In freckled knots of rebirthed trees
And Summer shown in baréd knees
Of beautiful women in swaying silk dresses.

We were pastlife lovers
Disjointed by mankind
We stepped off the apollo
Rebirthed in soul and mind!!!

We planted ourn own seed
Tis the world was left behind
Henthforth leaving traces
Of ourn tales for thou to find!!!

If only you'd take me for a fool
And not take me for granted like you do
I would rather live on in some ignorant bliss
Than taste the reality of this deathly kiss
For this is too easy to understand  
This is too easy to lose ourselves in
If you would only take me for another and not as I am
To lay me down on this cold hard ground
Pick up my pieces in some different form
A brand new me raised from your ideal storm

If only you'd take me for a fool
As fools are the ones who fall in love
Whose words seem to fall from the stars above
Dancing till dawn under cider filled skies
They are the ones that carry life in their eyes
So rescue me from this vagueness that consumes
Our daily routine of me versus you
And yet maybe you do, at night when i dream
Delivering my innocence rebirthed anew
For only a fool could keep returning to you

****....
I need your body here right now
Pressed against me in the moonlight
I know you want it
You know I want it
I need to strip you down to nakedness
I need to lay you down
Upon the soft, soothing sheets of this bed
I need to release this emotional attachment
I need this pleasure
I need the pleasure of me between your legs
I need the pleasure of your legs wrapping tightly around my back
I need the pleasure of your ****** massaging my ***** while you moan your deepest ****** fantasies into the wild jungle that is the night
Into the wild jungle that is our ****** desire
I need you ******* my ears with your sweet, *****, enticing whispers.
I need you to cloud my entire functionality with ***
To relieve me of my painful reality
Drown everything out with ***
Let the music of our mouths be the soundtrack for tonight
Don't let me down
Don't let me feel any pain
Touch me anywhere
Kiss me everywhere
I'll cry like a newborn
Because every time you make me feel like I've been rebirthed
****** nature never felt so arousing
****** nature never felt so pleasurable
****** nature never sounded so beautiful
****** nature never tasted so pleasant
****** nature never made me... *** so hard...
Oh baby... Make me ***, ***, ***
Over and over until I can't feel anything
Until I am numb
Because I don't want to feel nothing but your body
Because I don't want to feel nothing but your ***

Roadkill brightens my eyes
the impermanence of hibernation
waking restless creatures from the deep recesses of nature
still warming to sunlight and remnants of dripping icicles
weeping for winter's end
–– rain on cloudless days

Sleepy, furry faces spring up from the ground
as dormant undergrowth does the same
peering out into worlds rebirthed

and as they scurry
foraging for the first formations of food
rumbling predatory beasts roll their way down winding interstates
callously crushing any critter crawling across

and I smile
because, no matter the season, death plays its roll rotating life
but now life fights its way back into prominence
greening the trees, painting the buds, reddening the roads