It was her smile
That could light up a room
But a single frown
That could shatter everyone near her
She wore the crown
Encrusted in jewels
And even then
We all shattered more than we shined.
A lonely life on the throne
Catches up
To even the greatest of rulers

It was her illness
But it was everyone else
Who suffered

a conclusive vocation
the righteous of power
the materialistic slur
enchants the vain
the egotistical roam
claiming to burst
while the humble keeps
a sincere throne
a pseudo argument
don't agree, don't argue
if you can't
dispense your lenses
don't fool yourself,
opinions aren't truths
and life isn't a monologue
or a one man show

He walked along the street
He stumbled and fell on his feet
He then swallowed his own spit
When he realized he's going into the pit

He once owned a gallery
And he praised his mounted glory
But he sold his soul to gain victory
Little did he knew that his hands were slippery

Somehow
Everything was burning
And he was crying
Then he was begging
But he was dying
He was grieving
Over his own feeling

He used to be a gold digger
But the king had turned into a beggar
He just wanted to pull the trigger
But a wise man said, " It's on you then go figure! "

Reluctantly he let go of his throne
Oh!!! There's no crown to call his own
He sat there crying and start to mourn
The mad man faced his fate to die alone

-Jess

Down my cheeks, bitter tears incessantly rain
And my heart struggles with convulsive sighs.
However, when I see that gentle smile again;
That modest, sweet, and tender smile arise,
Lost in delight is all my torturing pain;
It pours on every sense a blest surprise.
Though well you read my heart and knew
How much I longed your charms to view.

While I concealed each tender thought;
Your face, with pity was sweetly shown.
Within that beauty, my fond mind sort
That love, which made your passion known.
Your sunny locks were seen caught short,
Nor smiled your eyes like a precious stone,
And behind a misunderstood cloud retired,
Those beauties, which I most admired.

My flows proper throne is that adorable face,
At times escorts her ‘mid the muses fair;
And so swells in me the fond desire apace,
As each, their beauty is than hers less rare.
So high and heavenward when my eyes do trace,
I say ‘my dove! In grateful memory you I'll bear'.
Yet unsung, sweet maid, your beauties should remain,
Pleasing, within my heart, as none shall ever please again.

Decorate the eyelids that are curled under the eyebrows …

Respect the words that have fallen down .. !!

.

This is a Crown ..

This is a Throne ..

This is a Poison ..

This is a Drink of affection ..

This is the land of God ..

We are here dramatics playing the role of statues ..

My house burnt with ease ..

I’m standing behind you peacefully ..

Believe me ..

Not a single flame can touch you ..

Somebody has paid me to be quiet ..

Because ..

this pen is slave of someone .. !!

.

.

Were you but an illusion passing by my way
Did I really heard the words, that to I, you clearly did say
Were your texts to me some figment in my mind
Did my eyes see you or am I truly blind

I cannot answer any of the above for I truly do not know
Something just told me I had to let you go
I still do not understand what happened between us
I just cannot understand, why you made such a fuss

You made me feel like a princess, sitting on her throne
The the text came, out of my life you had definitely gone
My instincts they were right, I knew you would not come
Just a note on an envelope, then I realised you had run

I do not know what changed your mind or even if it was with me
I know the illusion was perfectly set and I was where I wanted to be
With you I just could see a life, one I had but in dreams
But for me I was still dreaming, at least that is how it seems

But one thing I do have is memories, even if not real
You had my heart voluntary, yet my happiness you tried to steal
You set up a stage play, and then you played your role
Not even a true explanation, but I guess that is how my bell did toll

But I am not left behind bitter, never will I play that part
I have a true understanding of life, and always know where to start
With every start there is an ending, was just a shame it was so soon
You made me jump on cloud nine, but you never managed to get me over the moon.

As I walk I hear no fear,
With shed of vibrant crimson tear.

Meld by star dust of emotion,
Past physical motion lead to inner devotion.

As I talk with clear seared images of past path,
I must gear towards the journey unprepared wrath,
Like unknown scribe of the oracle tongue proclaiming like math.

This pull of gravitation, desire permeating relentless stride,
Without hesitation, fire within acclimating to her side!

Nothing shall stand in it's footing,
like marble bounce on a wall to other marble,
Like the losing of personal marbles dropping all senses,
For each thud of heart pounding in her presence marveling,
Holding composure, keeping things real, but soothed by her tongue.

It's a Pinot noir, Sauvignon blanc, Chardonnay upon the lips,
With her taste, with her lips, with all things she eclipse!
Equal to none, compared none, pedestal she stands upon.
As I held my hands holding her throne,
more precious than jewel of zircon,
But like a *****, all things are bygone and all things are done.

All things are full circle of celestial plane,
Finding my path and it's proper lane,
Because not even love is all but insane,
The inner bane of humans pain,
And due time things all wane.

For all things coming into full circle,
With shed of vibrant crimson tear,
As I walk in this journey, I hear no fear!

Dusted with gold, colours wheeling,
Threads reaching into a sun,
Precious handwoven rugs from Mumbai,
Individual, divine, only one.

A foreigner orders a carpet.

So a carpet graces the road.

On a throne made of barrows and money,
But a hand stops the vivid-hued load.

Covered in dust, wrinkles stealing
Irreplaceable youth from his bones,
Worthless mendicant soul in Mumbai,
Stretches out towards hope with a moan.

A dollar could take him to life,
As his cup stretches out for some bread,
Yet, the cloth priced more highly than life,
Trundles past, and it leaves him for dead.

The ship chugs through horizons,
With its costly woven load,
Whilst a bag of bones expires,
In the dust, beside a road.

Hair be raven, golden,  russet,
And eyes be ebony, green or blue,
Lips be red dipped in wine,
Skin almond or a rosy hue.

Hands be frail, creased with lines,
Soles worn with cracked feet,
Spine bent a storm wrecked tree,
But a voice melodic sweet.

Waves wash in ****** waters,
Forests make a leafy throne ,
Petals make a crown of blossoms,
Mountains  mould a stone.

In the eyes dance reflections,
A mirror of what I can see,
You say I am not a stranger,
Then pray tell me who I be.

One by one, I drop a layer,
And still I be a whole,
Not this flesh that covers,
Within I am a soul.

The night the sky flamed orange,
the trees bowed to the earth with respect;
pine needles littering the forest floor,
a spongy rest for my weary feet.
The wind howled with me.
The storm rolled in soft and quiet as I slept;
the storm that you have always kept.
My eyes blacked out the world;
my bed of pine needles served as the clouds might, could I lay on them.
I, the white one sleeping, next to my heart's treasure.
The tall pines waved and danced in the canopy of the sky,
releasing their sweet resin scent to paint my heart in the light of starry forest midnight.
The winds bent my pines and scattered my bed of long-dead needles,
and just like that she was gone.
I rose from my throne to search my sanctuary for the treasure that held my heartbeat within its confines.
Nowhere could I find her, though I ran without reserve,
paws pulling the great landscape beneath my feet: I flew through the trees...
and there you stood, my antithesis.
Black against my soil-stained White.
Eyes glinting to reflect my mirror image;
and against your shadowy coat the sky came down...
and the forest set ablaze.
The smoke and flame destroying all it touched,
apocalypse from your fingertips.
Solitary, next to me, though all else was gone, and her along with it all;
untouched, one lullaby rose shimmered into bloom.
For I, the White Wolf sleeping.

Maybe now you're standing tall,
But someday when you wake,
You'll find yourself lost once more,
Short of breath on your empty throne,
And when you take the shallow blade,
Buring through your skin,
Like you remember,
You'll miss me

I want someone to help me remember the day again,
I want someone to wake me up with a tickling to the chin, and say, 'get out of bed, lazy head'
and when my son runs in, pulls back the covers and shouts 'next stop, the seaside'
I want someone to make me laugh, and see me when i am not laughing,
when i cannot laugh, for there are tears that need to be bled
from my mind, like blood from a rock.
I want someone to drive with me to the places i love best, and hold my hand because
pieces of me are falling apart, and i am an old weather, rusted, old painted house
waiting to fall down, when someone slams a door.
I want someone to hold me in their arms, hold me so hard, so fast, so ******, hard
that my arms will bruise and i will cry with how my heart beats so scared
with being held, that it wishes to burst open, and free the hurricane inside.
I want someone to help me remember how to smile,
and when i am not smiling i am laughing,
and when i am not laughing, you are filling in the words to the old 80's ballads,
i forget the words to.
I want someone to be here, to be right ****** here,
I want someone to move mountains and sink ships, and drag me back from falling off the edge,
and say 'I love you, I love you, I love you' with tears in their eyes,
that they want to drown in should i not believe them.
I want someone to make sure they know, i know, they know what they are doing,
because when i am so ****** lost and lonely, no-one can tell what i might do,
except i don't because i don't, why would i? But they take me and hold me anyways.
I want someone to whisper in my ear, 'it's ok i got this' when i need a hand to hold me
I want someone to say 'listen the birds are chirping and you may never get another moment in your entire life to hear this sound, like this ever again'
I want someone to ask me what book i am reading, and watch my face as i turn into princesses, and damsels and toads, and stallions on which princes ride, to slay the dragon
and watch me runaway with myself.
I want someone to take my side, and realise i am not what i always think i am,
and sometimes i need a liege to my throne and a circle of knights to swear upon my honour
they will sit and ride at dawn for me.
I want someone to listen to me, and hear what i say, what i really say, which isn't anything at all,
but they will hear me, and the words i am screaming from an earthquake behind my
eyes.
I want someone to hold me by the face whilst i am crying and tell me that their whole world lies within me, and the more i cry, the more i lose a slight part of my heart beat in each tear,
and that everything would be ok, if i just trusted them one last time,
that everything would be ok.
I want someone to take me by the hand and say, you are mine, i am yours, i am yours, you are mine,
and the grip be firm, and the heart beats strong,
and we sit in the car, as it rains, and you hold me, you just hold me,
and remind me to see the day.

you’ve got it all wrong, momma.
flaunting your grief,
striping that poor sycamore down to a ghost off tree.
we revel in skeletons,
and find the clean lines
that divide
what is right and what is wrong.
sensous and economical,
the dead sing us songs i am learning to answer.
you would never understand the appeal
of power.
am i a hypothetical to you?
bow to me, forgotten godesss.
broken girls find solace in persephone.
i’m learning new words like pomegranate,
a word you can **** on.
pom- thick, round, bittersweet bulge.
e- the one you slide over to get to gran,
a slow swelling, cancer or the rose.
finally granate, stones stopping your heart cold.
pomegranate, a word you spit out, seeds sticking to your teeth,. don’t you see i never could have stayed?
you only want gods who water your crops, who let you bow beneath their thrones, if you do so quietly.
i want my own throne, and i want to be loud. i want to disscus the fulitlity of existence, the burden of immortality.
i want a life like my dearest pomegranates,
bittersweet and complex.
in short, i left for a reason.
i am not your daughter anymore.

On clouds sky high, in a kingdom of gold,
with glittering pride and a name well known,
a sun-haired Goddess sat on her throne,
where she has remained since times of old.

A prodigy among them, all did praise,
all fell to their knees in worship,
for she truly was the best at it,
playing with humans for countless days.

One day her talents were not spot on,
hissing whispers of disappointment flew,
"She is not what we thought we knew",
they wanted her best from dusk till dawn.

The Gods looked upon her with disgust,
ripped her of her immortal armor,
they cared not what happened to her,
as her accidents created mistrust.

The sky darkened and silence fell,
all around her fire spread around,
burning the clouds, sending her down,
until she reached Earth, not Hell.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips,
this fate is acceptable, yet odd,
the humans would bow to their beloved God,
so she rose, hands on her hips.

The people glared, spat, ignored,
caring not for this ratty shrew,
so as the bitter wind strongly blew,
the poor girl sank in dolor.

Where was the expected love,
how could she be treated so unsweet,
why didn't they drop right down to her feet,
was she not from heaven above?

A glance upon her filthy skin,
made her see she was mortal, kin,
confusion and pain wrecked her mind,
for she was no longer one of a kind.

There was no respect, there was no pride,
there was no love and limited time,
for when she had everything and forever to survive,
how could she function if she was denied?

At the base of the mountain, she waited and pled,
to be let back, till throat burned red,
but the ones above simply observed,
the punishment of adjusting to the life she deserved.

.
In an anthem of doubt
the wind song resonates
passionately through
natures’ cocooned embrace ,
          heart’s echoes manifest
                    thrive and bear fruit.
                    unspoken hearts enflamed
                    in poetic supplications ,
          soul rejuvenation ,
a flake of love sown
a spark of hope evident
a burning bonfire
metamorphosed ,  
wildfire fanned by the muse
          a shameless passion

                    insatiated thirst
                    unsatiated taste buds
                    a hungry heart craving ,
          an unsatisfied desire
to be spellbound
the moment of love
at long last ,
imbibed in deepest
heart subsisting coddle ,
          held like life sustaining breath

                    take me to your secret throne
                    lead me down
                    your garden pathway moans ,
          where all your secrets will be known ,
let me taste the beauty
of your naked sacred stone ―
please don’t make me wait forever
                    longing to be warm
                    in the frigid cold aloneness
                    curling my back
         to a fading  memory
         where you used to lie at dawn ...




         *wild is the wind  11. 27. 2016

If you think about it, it's sad,
how at the end of this charade,
we're buried in the ground,
and left there to decay.

We work so hard throughout our lives,
work to the bone,
just to be judged,
by a man on a throne.

But life's had me questioning recently,
what's real and what's a hoax.
Is the great beyond really real,
or a story handed down by old folk?

Because I sure hope that soldier,
that I saw buried today,
will go up to that great beyond,
and not lie there and decay.

I mean, after all,
he deserves it more than me.
He worked so hard, worked to the bone,
to support a family.

So God bless you, my grandfather,
for you, God waits.
Just promise you'll be the first to greet me,
at the pearly gates.

Tomorrow will come
And the day will be yours
A new day to begin again

With yesterday behind you
The future is wide open and young
It is yours to explore

Your day will come
With open arms to welcome and embrace your soul

The future is your kingdom
And your heart is your throne

Your day will come
You will finally find your way back home

Write about me
Tell me how your night isn’t complete
Without a goodnight phone call
Alongside a “sweet dreams” text;
And how it’s the only thing better
Than the good morning ones..

Write about me
Tell me how you hate that I stopped trying.
This other guy was never competition
You just wanted to see if I’d fight for you;
Please, make me feel like a fool
When you tell me how I failed your test
And only a dozen fresh Orchids
With a card quoting your favorite song
Would be enough to prove how serious
I am about you.

“There’s so much beauty in a storm”

Write about me
After that is said and done, watch as
I’ll dedicate hours trying to tell you
That it’s not because I don’t care
Or that none of what I said was real
It was just that;
Only that your happiness meant more
To me than mine ever could,
And I’d rather see you happy
With anyone else, than me failing
To put that beautiful smile
On the most deserving of faces..

Write about me
Tell me that it hurts when you hear me say
That I fear I’m not good enough
For a woman like yourself
In reality though - I mean you.
Your potential is limitless;
While I’m a work in progress
And you, princess. Don’t have the time
Or maybe even the will power
To build a man up to your level
When you deserve a golden crown
And a million peasants, kneeling
Before your throne, on which you proudly sit
While they beg for a minute of your time

You won’t write about me though
Because I’m aware none of this is true
My words may hold less meaning
Than I could even imagine,
But it doesn’t change the fact
This is what I want to hear.

“You owe me a poem”
You said to me.
What you didn’t know
Is that you already have two
That you’ll likely never see.
I promise this will be the last
(Unless you want more, that is)

(I)*
I have no intentions
I don’t want a thank you
I want you to be happy
I want you to smile while reading this
And laugh it up at my expense
(It’s pretty cheesy right?)

But you’re the only one
That I sit here at 7 AM
Writing about
When we've hardly spoken
In 3 days
At the very least,
I hope it’s an ego boost.

“I love poetry” you said
And I love to write;
This one though,
Isn’t for me
It’s yours.

I would that if you increased
The spoken statements on your mind,
Would be you used this tone with me,
I'd "lop off your head," for better words
Suit me fine, defended by a suit of armor, one
For my own well-minded ears hearing safety,
An armor I deserve for being your king,
Your master, you are my throne even,
I sit on you when I'm sad, and spit on you
When I'm mad. This is it, there's nothing
More to say, you wash your mouth out now,
My "honest perfection" grows day by day.

Approach, dear dreamer, if you dare,
But know my skies are thin for air.
My steps are stitched in woven flame,
My name, too sharp for lips of shame.

You came with hands of dust and thread,
A crown of noise upon your head.
No sword, no gift, no golden key,
Yet thought to tame a storm like me.

Did Daedalus forget to warn his son?
Even Icarus soared closer than you’ve done.
You chase the sun but dread the cold,
A heart too timid, a hand too old.

I dance where only giants tread,
I feast where lesser men have fled.
I wear the stars, I breathe the skies,
I kiss the sun where eagles rise.

So take this truth I lay in rhyme:
A throne too high is not a crime.
It is a gift for those who soar
Not for the ones who beg at doors.

I’m sorry for wearing your
shoulders down,
for wearing a rusted crown this entire time,
for disguising this threadbare throne,
I promise I’ll make every
burden of yours my own,
I’ve said you’ve ran from me
and I’ve held it against you,
there's no haste,
I understand
I've seen it second to you
and thirdhand,
and instead of servitude
I see aptitude,
you will escape,
sometime's instead of
pulling through the vice grips
you have to spin the other way,
I understand

theres nothing vein
in putting your pain before,
you’ve stopped running
yet when trouble tramples
as hard as it has,
the footprints are in cement,

it's easy turning a blind eye
to a mirror when the reflection
is a projection seen before,
I'll stay tight in vice
and keep my laces loose.

I'm holding court
In my home,
Not so regal
On my throne.
The peons line-up
As I moan,
Trying to pass
My kidney stones.

Emotions like the fall of Rome
Sadness sits high upon the throne

Glory, grander, that slowly fade
Melancholy into the sunlight bade

From the shadows in which it hid
To rear its prideful head again

And under the coliseum lie
Life before childhood died

So discontent a simple notion
Sorrow is a lowly emotion

And aqueducts lead unto my eyes
Water flows with no reprise

For the ones who understand
The life that hangs from golden strand

Simply reverberating with discord
For into my back the knife did bore

Et tu, Brute?
Is all that can be said
Now lie my happiness dead

The ides of March so have come about
Leaving in heart and soul no doubt

That the pillars fell to rest
And joy was put to death

Ember covered roses
And our smoke spins your name
Into spirals of hearts,
Then it bursts into flames

The sight of an angel
Left me speechless, with grace
So I panicked like always  
And blew dust in your face

In that full moon moment
You were under my spell  
So I stole you, for mine
And dragged you back to hell

That's where I lost myself
And gave it all to you
I ******* stole your soul
But you devoured mine, too

Then the sky ripped in half
And the stars all collapsed
The heavens opened up
'Cause they wanted you back

Explosions in your eyes
Made me drop to my knees
And my poison heart bled  
When they ordered you free

You flew back to yourself
I fell back to the ground
My horns caught on fire
As your wings were unbound

You were just an angel
Haunted by the devil
Begging for attention while
Your halo wasn't leveled

But I made you my god
And gave you a throne
You tricked me with mirrors
And turned me to stone

I am but a demon
Of my own shallow ways
So I reach for the dagger
Let myself go to waste

Hollow in your presence
Take this as your treasure
Forever a statue
For your viewing pleasure

Alight from your throne,
reeking of superiority.
Cast the first stone!
It no longer bothers me.

Spewing impotent venom,
your willfully caged mind,
conditioned, doped, benumbed,
cradled ideology; you're blind.

Let us meet as equals.
A dialogue must be fanned,
or the cycle of upheaval
will regress the promised land.

I love the way you whisper in my ear,
With the wind,
a beautiful song of life
and that song sometimes sings to me
telling me that,
I can't sit around and wonder what it would be like
To have a different life
And its that song that make me think that,
I'd rather listen closely
To the song you put in my way
there is no thought in my mind
or in my heart
about the way you love me
and it is that love
that makes the best lyrics for a song
and the best lines for a poem
and the best melody for my heart.
I used to think that happy ending were fairy tales
and that a prince fight a dragon for me
But know I know
That no only did you fight a dragon for me
But you also left your throne of king
and you put at my feet mercy and grace
that's more than I could ever ask for
And that's more than I could ever need
you have sang to me, everyday
telling me that the sun shines
and the moon does to,
because you will never leave me in darkness
you sang to me and you've let me know
that even thought it may rain today
The sun will come out back tomorrow.

The LORD put millions of lives on this earth today
To replace the ones he took away.
We all have destinies that we must follow
To keep the balance of nature true.
It is all up to me and you.
The crossroads that we come to in life
Can lead us straight or make us fight
The straight and narrow is the path that GOD has put for us
And In his infinite wisdom- he gave us a choice at the crossroads
One can lead us to an easy life abound
While the other can make us fight for all that is found.
The road that leads us to the fight is the road that we must take
So that we can use our hearts and mind, and fight to get
To his heavenly throne, so in death we’ll never be alone.
The road to an easy life abound – will look as beautiful as can be
But it could hide lots of treachery.
Life is not always what it seems to be
But this is the crossroads that lead to our destiny.

its now apparent
there is in my midst
one who seeks to usurp
a throne built with my own two hands

not to rest comfortably between
inlaid and intricately carved clawed feet
but to see it empty
for nothing more than the sake of watered down bloodline

yet calmly i tap toe
half impatient and watching
as a small axe hacks away a mighty oak
but not the roots

of the next growth
boughs spring forth more mighty
than the last
from which to fashion not one more but two replacements,
imperial palisades and a porch for a palace,
rocking chairs with armrests,
a mantel and mirror frame

so that we
my queen and i
can be seen together
as we should be
with no hovering specters