Clash. Zap. Thunderclap.
Orbitals charged with electricity collide - feels like  crossing the streams
let's - smash atoms like Adam and Eve,
pierce fiercely with particles blown white hot from my accelerator
Insatiable
Like  trying to fill up a black hole, so i accelerate her
excite her, ignite her, my touch lights her on fire
combust.
a cloud of ecstasy like Co2  rises higher
I've got my eyes on your ions
take a picture it'll last longer?
snap a photo digitize her
particles turned pixels tilt their head skyward
transcendant enlightenment, released it inside her
E=mc^2 , i can please you at the speed of light
we just rewrote the big bang theory and this time we got it right
opposites attract and charged sparks fly
we might not touch but ion be ****** if we don't try
I'm a ****** intellectual
I love your body AND your mind.

Get in a last word, since silence is golden,
then in the end all that is spoken
betrays the honest truths
the value of sharing a meal
sustenance to feel
fulfilled, now that talk is cheap...

Be more profound to take me aback
like a gust of wind through hallowed doors
to the hollows of burial and sage and prayers
where subservience of love
denies the body of its flesh
to please the ephemeral ghosts...

yes, tell me how deep your adoration's lashes
if all the deserts we've traversed
meant as much as the time of my worth
will it bleed--those words for me?
Are your words as bread or food
uplifting in the roots of you?

I am no shepherd nor are you a herd of sheep,
a flock unable to fly without a mind to think
I am just another king like  any like you
the last word at the rabble
a dying flame from the candles drinking wine,
beneath the sky of olives and infinite eyes
here with the stain of un-seeing
in search for a well that will not dry
for a familiar day of kind of rain...


Tell me what's a good word without one
made   by ****** hand of man,
one that is like music / laughter
a celebration's feast
teach me instead,

and please don't preach...

What worth is made when words are bade
like a trader of slaves to whom he's paid,
or a master in his own house at a maid?
Such business is moot in its absolutes,
                 a kiss on the cheek without a word
multiplicitious and astute
obvious in the eyes of company kept
                  brother in the dark I heard wept

A tree in shadows hangs the rotten fruit

Ananke
dangles like most words must do
from the mouth must taste as dung
often done -- invisible daggers to the heart
untruths
then less and less of brotherly caress

nor some kind of familiar can be found
no infinite wonder

the one and only one

You,
whom I have been
preparing to be made new,
to wake from the pain of this blister
these mirages we hunger and run to,
don't speak what I want to know
I already have seen the final show
and words are only words
unheard by the deaf heavens
selective with their ears to cherubs glee
what is found when the One above
or any of the many stars that see
our globe in desert blizzards,

ill regard as plenty as snow
nothing of the kind, or good in kind,
what word equals

the image of everlasting
Oh
just a sip ...?

There are only so many words
in a universe of infinite light
language can be made like jars of clay

simple like breaking (of hearts and day)

if eyes were speaking through our tears
how loud must we shout "Love"
before there's nothing that's enough
to keep us thusly
home not just merely
an EYE to clear / and still, I am
with you                                         here.

Push away the old world words
that once poured into my cup,
I want home to be as heaven is esteemed
take this cup away from me
blood of transcendant poetry...

Every prodigious step
Toward the angel's ascension
Brings the Omnipotent tear.

Descending like stars overlapping,
Birthing a dark constellation
Chasing a Holy Ghost.

Behold himself in reflection
Twice as a rich man,
Once more a beggar fluent;

So comes a behemoth on winged
Sandals that which twice befell,
Unveiling the holiest of sins.

Father before me and after,
Is immortality unveiled
Like parting from Heavens gate?

From the highest in a chain,
A slave to every master;
Much defined is the mortality.

The Dead have no glory,
For glory's sake to remember
A Victory in transcendant stories.

Seek no more the Holy
As though running from fear
Of the sin,

Tis the same above as below,
Man o man, the futile pawn
Of the Mysterious Game.

To you whom We have seen
Stalking at night by eyes keen
Transcendant of savages
Sating thirst sans avarice
Your coffers stay stuffed
By social graces robust
None know your nature;
save Us
None share your fate;
save Us
None welcome you as kin;
save Us.

When I first heard you speak, my soul grew weak and I knew then and there I would **** your mind,
  I could picture your bare naked goals and Raw aspirations intertwined with mine.

I want to make love to your inner-most thoughts in the most intimate way as I run my lips across your imagination, creating nonstop sensation!

Threw my words of ****** elevation.  This can be a ****** preparation! pleasure is only momentary.

Let's smash atoms like Adam and Eve,
  piercing fiercely with particles blown white hot from my accelerator
  Like  trying to fill up a black hole, so i accelerate her
excite her, ignite her, my touch lights her on fire!
combusting her into
a cloud of ecstasy like Co2  rising higher,
  
snapping a photos to digitize her
particles turned pixels tilt their head skyward
transcendant enlightenment, released it inside her
If E=mc^2 , then I know  can please you at the speed of light!

Baby we just rewrote the whole big bang theory and this time we got it right.
When opposites attract charged sparks will fly!

we might not touch but i be ****** if we don't try!
I'm a ****** intellectual
I love your body AND your mind.

Taking you to places that you’ve only seen in dreams
Reaching the highest peaks of that pearl you keep secret behind those soaking wet lips that stick to each kiss. You enjoining every lick of spit that drips off the tip of my **** as I lay and alternate those hips, dip after dip after dip after dip....

Light crashes
Slowly
Like waves of mind
Within yet without
I let it out with a ******* shout
Fallen transcendant, ascending inverse
Forked tongue recites, verse by verse
Try it, don't deny it, it's true
Outside yourself, within you
The truth you seek is a part of Self
In (sic)ness and in health
it's a ll a part of the game
And everything remains the same
Change
Is constant, resonant, a part of it all
Like the angel and its fall
So good to see what's come to be
Let it flow, let it go, let the goodness grow
I am that I am, and everything as planned
I choose that I am
No footprints in the sand,
But I'm not ******...

Get in a last word, since silence is golden,
then in the end all that is spoken
betrays the honest truths
the value of sharing a meal
sustenance to feel
fulfilled, now that talk is cheap...

Be more profound to take me aback
like a gust of wind through hallowed doors
to the hollows of burial and sage and prayers
where subservience of love
denies the body of its flesh
to please the ephemeral ghosts...

yes, tell me how deep your adoration's lashes
if all the deserts we've traversed
meant as much as the time of my worth
will it bleed--those words for me?
Are your words as bread or food
uplifting in the roots of you?

I am no shepherd nor are you a herd of sheep,
a flock unable to fly without a mind to think
I am just another king like  any like you
the last word at the rabble
a dying flame from the candles drinking wine,
beneath the sky of olives and infinite eyes
here with the stain of un-seeing
in search for a well that will not dry
for a familiar day of kind of rain...

Tell me what's a good word without one
made   by ****** hand of man,
one that is like music / laughter
a celebration's feast
teach me instead,

and please don't preach...

What worth is made when words are bade
like a trader of slaves to whom he's paid,
or a master in his own house at a maid?
Such business is moot in its absolutes,
                 a kiss on the cheek without a word
multiplicitious and astute
obvious in the eyes of company kept
                  brother in the dark I heard wept

A tree in shadows hangs the rotten fruit

Ananke
dangles like most words must do
from the mouth must taste as dung
often done -- invisible daggers to the heart
untruths
then less and less of brotherly caress

nor some kind of familiar can be found
no infinite wonder

the one and only one

You,
whom I have been
preparing to be made new,
to wake from the pain of this blister
these mirages we hunger and run to,
don't speak what I want to know
I already have seen the final show
and words are only words
unheard by the deaf heavens
selective with their ears to cherubs glee
what is found when the One above
or any of the many stars that see
our globe in desert blizzards,

ill regard as plenty as snow
nothing of the kind, or good in kind,
what word equals

the image of everlasting
Oh
just a sip ...?

There are only so many words
in a universe of infinite light
language can be made like jars of clay

simple like breaking (of hearts and day)

if eyes were speaking through our tears
how loud must we shout "Love"
before there's nothing that's enough
to keep us thusly
home not just merely
an EYE to clear / and still, I am
with you                                         here.

Push away the old world words
that once poured into my cup,
I want home to be as heaven is esteemed
take this cup away from me
blood of transcendant poetry...

Once a tiny bud
Who grew outside of her protected liquid garden
Into a flowerburst of colors
Ultra-hued light
A taste of the divine
flowing from the heaven of her scent
as I hold her and inhale
I feel my own creation and hers mingling,
with the beat of my womb.
Each day,
so many colors, growing in intensity
Each day
so much depth unfurling from within
And with that earthsong, song of whales and mermaids,
a  gorgeous iridescence
That bestows light upon me
With its transcendant holiness
I know I am thus twice blessed:
A  starsong of delight
Who blesses and re-blesses her own miracle
of creation.
My own joyful garden, both in
And out of water
Able to burst up and out,
Seed by seed by seed.
And I wish to explode with it.
For now, I take a breath.
I have. I hold.
We glow.

Worthiness, the drive of a soul. The drive to a place where consciousness meets reality in the chupah of these realms. A transcendant drive that captivates even to the greatest depths, beyond comprehension.

Worthiness, the elixir of redemption that wells up from the deep. That bleeds out from the sensation, the manifestation of what is internal flowing externally. How can one neglect such as this?

For when the sorrow comes and the worthiness forgotten. The soul wanders around, aimlessly as if a wanderer lost in the desolate places. Their tears be the only quenching to the dried throat plains.

But when hope comes like a marage in the desolation. The soul drinks of the elixir, he remembers where the consciousness meets his reality. With now tears, droplets that revitalise the soul. His wounds mended, his strength imbued. This here the drive, the worthiness, the redemption at the chupah of these realms.

It's hard to say
It's easy to feel
But seeing something
Doesnt make it real
A subtle butterfly
A beautiful view
I feel a gentle flutter
Thinking of  you
I can feel your soft landing
Something strong enough to hold
Your the flower I crave
Your nectars made out of gold
And When I'm inside you
Encased and dissolved
My flutter and your nectar
This is reality and its evolved
A butterfly and a rare flower
One searching for the other
While the other enduring
seasonal transcendant weather.
If I was the butterfly
and you were the flower
That means Id crave you
And the butterfly always gets the flower.

Sailors always want to go back
to the(ir) wild seas
believed they  can cope with
in their (Heming)way
and meet and feed
demon and friend
to treasure land
          -for some
or wreck shore
        -for others
leaving mythical tales
and iconic traces
over rushing waves
covering
the sunken pasts
at the silent depths

From conception to end
shaped by elements
caged by their mean(ing)s
and blindfixed by knowlegde
through not so at random coincidences
in darkness and fears
embracing an obscure painseeking
a stubborn longing for  
a deafening exitation
to a transcendant daze
a state and place,
lasting
until the passion
for unresolved aims
hasn't to be explained
anymore
…
Into an undefined fate (faith)
of the sailor
In anyone

My ranking was 115 out of 300 or so
people at the high school I attended in
Kansas. Ineffectual. By most standards.

The university denied me membership into
the honors community, blacklisted by peers,
ignored, forgotten like a transient looking through
the cafe window at the revelers eating and drinking.

young voices contributing to publications, singing
thoughts, shaping the tenor of future days, heralded
like shining angels transcendant of mortals, supremacy
allowed to decide the shape of our cities, schools, feelings.

Entrusted with the duty to chisel our lives into a shape, the approval to think for us, or be the catalyst of our own thoughts, or rather simply, the winners who wrote it best, they ran faster, they ranked higher, they knew more.

Not one of them my voice. my voice was silence,
shoved back by the bouncer
at the threshold of influence.

Words floated inward, I witnessed the streams
of phrases float passed me on soundwaves,
reaching the ears of luminaries, academicians, renegade thinkers.
crowds rallied, wept, and devoured the ideas embedded in the poems, essays, articles allowed to reach the readers of the day.
Minds opened, wealth shifted, a flight towards a new horizon saw people preparing for the liftoff.

Yet, nothing changed.

The wounded continued to bleed upon the sidewalks
outside my apartment. Tiny children ignorantly ran past schools
refusing to walk inside. Men and Women preferred to dance viciously, like celebrating heathens, rejoicing in their ****** rituals, unashamed to entice one another into poverty.

SHOULD things even change?

Would the presence of my voice even make a microscopic difference? What vanity did I carry that imagined one hope
of a thought birthed from my mind might create the tipping point for human recovery? Wouldn't it be better to remain silent and let the masters continue with their work? Let the fittest push me out of their way, leaving me in the trench to camp and rebuild my primitive shelter. I will die soon enough. My dust enriching the soil as best it can, preparing the earth for tomorrow's crop of leaders.