With our own hands
Destiny is sculpted
The passion of youth
Molding a masterpiece

Time is unyeilding
Chipping away the details
The marble soaks in the pain
Cracks trickle chaotically
Death bombards innocence
Worn and weathered

Building dreams of clay
The beauty in life fades
Some find solice in destruction

I wish I could

Hold you and

Not think of

Sand of

Sifting and

Slipping

Down and away.

I want this

Hold tangible

So I can

Squeeze and

Feel pain through

Your substance

Unyeilding

Why must my lips speak
A melody my fingers can play
Must I weaken your ear
When I can weaken your knees?
Looks and sounds are nice
But feelings are beter
Why stumble over three words
When I can double your pleasure with
The featherlight touch of my fingertips
Words are so mundane
I would rather profane a moment with the
Unyeilding touch, the gift
Of all I have and have to give
To live with you wrapped, no curled
(my fingers, your toes),
No, gripping my fingers
Gasping the same way you did
When you were first given life
And given again
To arch and release, to obscene
The silence with the tell tale
Whimpering of two and too
Pleasurable
If there were ever such a thing.
I want to bring you to the edge
And hold you there, begging with
Your eyes, your lips, for sweet release
For your hands
To search for comforting firmness
For something to hold
All the while, inexorable circles
Of a lover’s touch, driving the point
Home like words cannot
Your lips and body making an ‘O’
I don’t have to say it, not now
Not that it would register,
I can give it
You can feel it
This is spiritual, this is everything
The apex of physiology, biology,
Of romance
Happiness brought in ways we could only
Previously imagine
Base instincts take over
(yet still only third)
Curling, my fingers, your toes
And it’s so intense, so beautiful
The three words seem so childish
So understated
Compared to this moment
Calling for a deity a thousand times
What else brings such passion?
Certainly not words, sweet as they can be
And it’s everything, Anything
I feel for you and you for me
In one moment
One moment
One moment
Slays three words
They’re one and the same
I won’t say it, not with my lips
(maybe later)
But you cannot deny the power of
The feelings
And what we do and have done
And will do
A small part of us
But for a moment, everything
Slayer of words
Crumbler of walls
Screams and moans
Pants and breaths, never to be found
Today two years, and a hundred and six days
All in one moment
Tomorrow should you so choose
One hundred and seven
The words can’t hold it all
Can’t hold what I feel for you
But *******
And many heartbeats can
It’s a gift.
It’s everything I have for you
And I’m giving it to you
For a moment, thirty seconds
However long it takes
For the breaths and the heartbeat
And the moans to rise to a ******
And gradually fall
Reveling in the moment, the Love
We’re not fools
No matter what they call it.

let me teach you
how to dance
to the song that is my heartbeat

first; lay your head upon my chest
stay silent, unmoving, hold your breathe
nothing?
no, there it is
steady, unyeilding, comforting
but as I feel you slowly exhale
it’s tempo accelerates
of course you induce that
‘butterflies in my stomach’ effect
if I was talking, I would’ve stuttered
as your fingers absentmindedly
drew patterns on my wrists
i could feel the hairs rising
my body calling out to your touch
gentle, calming, peaceful
and when I peak at you
your eyes are closed, relaxed
savouring the moment
our pulses meld together
and dance a tranquil tango.

In times of poor and plenty,
I shall love sans dolenti
That smile across your face
That sends me out in space.
Connubial bliss will be
Like moonglow on the sea,
When you are by my side,
In amourous hearts abide.

Take comfort,
We are favored
By heaven
And by nature.

Love has come to you, and
Love has come to me.
I see your pulchritude.
It shines from inside of you.

In times of poor and plenty,
I shall love sans dolenti
That smile across your face
That sends me out in space.
Connubial bliss will be
Like moonglow on the sea,
When you are by my side,
In amourous hearts abide.

Your fragrant
Flowing hair
Like wheat
Upon the air...

You are a gift to me,
A cosmic mystery,
Enigmatic.
I take thee.

In times of poor and plenty,
I shall love sans dolenti
That smile across your face
That sends me out in space.
Connubial bliss will be
Like moonglow out at sea,
When you are by my side,
In amourous hearts abide.

Our sigual links unyeilding bond.
You are the only one
I'd ever give my love.
You're the one that makes me happy,
Sappy like a heavy bow.

I shouldn't be without you.
I'll never have a doubt about you;
And now I know your mine.
I'm yours completely, love is fine.

In times of poor and plenty,
I shall love sans dolenti
That smile across your face
That sends me out in space.
Connubial bliss will be
Like moonglow on the sea,
When you are by my side,
In amourous hearts abide

From what well of unconsciousness do these words come?
How deep, how strange?
Muttered beneath thin sheets of sleep.

They come from a place where there are no lies.
Even so, the  truth is tricky.
You never can tell.

It's good to know you're there to keep me from believing.
I wish you weren't listening, but hold me down, hold me down.
I say such silly, silly things.

Rhyming words of confession
I've offered accidentally
With no intention of repenting.

My own words, drunk on slumber,
Become an unyeilding relentless God
Who keeps me more honest than I need to be.

Who am I when I claim these memories that aren't my own?
When I recall experiences that don't belong to me?
Why don't I remember any of it? Any of it?

From what thick air do these visions unfold?
Dark clouds, thick rain
To wash clean and baptize dreams,

Revelations ripe for misunderstanding.
Even so, the truth is tricky.
Of that you can be sure.

You really should know how special you are
That I would trust you with these
Words, confession, dreams

Blank verse

A stream of nonsense, funny as hell.
From the belly of the beast you'll hear me laughing
At the God of inhibition, the God of oppression.

For who am I to bear this curse?
Why shouldn't I plunder memories and experience
When I won't remember a thing in the morning?

Those who upset you most in life are your best teachers.  If confusion is in your head then that person has shown you that you still have work to do.  Learn that seeing your life is teaching, like a red lotus healing it's pain from the inner solitude, gain strength from your wounds. A good magician remembers the trail and takes a different one even if it is more difficult.  This way you build strength. Soar ever higher along the road less traveled and the Buddha sits awaiting the student to aide them in their growth.  The world is setting in Waite for the student to become the teacher.  The wings are most beautiful as well as strong. The Buddha waits as the student realizes that they are the Buddha reaching for the desire to become the student once again is a growth spin. Our bodies are just energy a currency to further our expanding natures.  When the trees become hard and unyeilding just sit and let them know that you will bend if they do and to breathe in strength and compromise.  Center the self in the glow of the growth of all that is in infinite abundance.

You may read this and not understand
but I guess that makes two of us.

I have this impossible need to cry.
I want to cry and I want someone to see.
Maybe if they see they will understand.
They probably wont understand.
I have no words for this feeling that burns inside me
without words,
crying seems like the only way to get it out.
I want it out.

If I tried to give it words,
I would use,
drowning and suffocating and trapped.
But thoes are just words
and they do not prevail what is pinning me to the floor of my soul.
Its force is unyeilding
and I endlessly long for a way to express its power,
but it seems that a power so strong cannot be expressed.
Not by words and not even by tears.
But maybe if there were tears
someone would hold me
and lie to me.
Tell me that it's all going to get better.
Thats what people do, we comfort each others sorrows
even if we don't posses the sorrows of the other.

So maybe I will cry.
And maybe someone will care.

Tired eyes
shame envelops her body, like gauze
shoulderblades dripping with chagrin, a tattered pair of wings.
Freckles dot her nose, a miniature map,
sanguine lips on milky skin.
Stale, intangible disgrace.

Her eyes are drawn to the sunken sky,
and puffs of breath dance around her lips.
Acid boils within her
rippling throughout her body, threatening to tear her in two.
Fingers pressed to lips; drag,
a tiny ember. Ash away the agony.

A script, perfectly mastered:
a whimper, a moan, a buck of her hips.
Expectant with dread:
a low grunt, heavy panting, and slick, salty sweat
and at last it comes to a close.

And then: a fistful of bills.
Stiff, unyeilding, she will swallow hard.
And tell herself it was all worthwhile.

There is a hole in her heart,
dimly lit by a frenzy of pale, crushed stars
the smell of their flames: chalky, thick charcoal
whisper a faint reassurance.

Penance stains her cheeks in lacy contours
ageless, crooked bruises lace her body and blister to the surface of her skin
unable to rinse herself of sin,
she will choke on the sun.

I forfeit you often in tiny moments lingering like age..To a titanic of an opponent I know I will never defeat. You.
You're the mighty unbreakable door, with no handle nor **** to turn, neither knocker or bell to ring. You are the only door that is not a slave to any metal. Not even a cursed object like skeleton keys can force it open and break into your secret thoughts. It opens from one side and one side only. Your side.
I've watched you slip behind your door and get lost inside yourself.. Never taking anyone with you. Slipping through time in a compelling labrynth, hidden somewhere behind those dark intoxicating eyes.  Those eyes that make me often forget what I'm saying midsentence.
The spark to the match of my irrelevant jealousy, driving me to the brink of insanity. Making me restlessly patient for your return from the door and back to reality, or the reality we physically share.
I want to get lost with you, take me through your door. I want to see more than you show, and know all the things you never say. I need your raw unyeilding commentary and this unwanted vail you hide behind lifted: exposing you bare.
I've been stealing bits of you over the years while you were unaware-but it's no longer enough.
I want to finally see all of you at once. Not the glimpses and echos that I have collected and pieced together under your nose for all these years. Like some common stalker..
That version, my version of you, is forever unsatisfying and incomplete. It will never be enough, who you are in my head and who you are when we are together, is only a shadow of the you let me see. I want the version you keep locked up, the one you  never share.You may be content being lost inside yourself alone, but even so, it doesn't have to be that way.
I beg you, stop keeping to yourself. Keep me instead.
Together, we will be the perfect trade.

-Stone Fox

today

I heaved a big sigh

so maybe

I can stop the

bashing of my head

against the concrete

I worked hard alone

to get the scream out

and tomorrow

may be different

maybe

I will fall down

all worn out fighting

the urges to bash against

the unyeilding

grey

We close the curtains on a world less sure,
than yesterday, and all the days that went before
evening comes, and with it falls the night
unyeilding darkness drinks the light
and in its presence fades the sight
of garden gate and fence and lawn
in an anxious world which waits for dawn

For a moment her skin
Is like the color of the dark
Unyeilding seas in the dead of winter;
The edges of her body more alive
Like the back splash of her crisp waves.
Her eyes more like the round
Black vastness of space;
A warm asteroid field of greens and golds scattered throughout,
Swirling amd twirling me into the wormhole of her pupils.
Her appearance more cold
And cut throat- threatening to ruin anyone
Even  remotely as enduring as she
And yet her ****** expression
More begging and yearning for sustenance in her life- worth dying for
Other than the promise of one day being seen as more than a badge.
She turned and nodded to me, "sup girl." Blinking me back to reality. Remembering she is my enemy
And now I sit questioning my whole life- was everything I taught a lie.
Or is this just reason enough to die?

Into the field of battle I will ride
With the unyeilding favor of God on my side
And if in the end I find I have died
In the warmth of his grace is where I’ll confide

I want to unlock the door
to every crevice of your mind.
No matter how ancient the lock
I will study the hieroglyphics
intricately painted along the walls,
until I can forge a key
from my bare hands.

I want to explore
every little nook and cranny,
until I could go blind
and still navigate backwards
through the labrinth
and never get lost.

I want an abundance of infinities
to walk a lifetime by the soles of your feet,
until I can no longer
recognize them from my own.

I want to search your heart,
until a map of every path and detail
is tattooed to the back of my palms,
and I can feel the magnetic force
that drives the compass
resonating through my bones.

I want to find the unyeilding fire
at the very core of your being,
and discover its composition
that keeps it alive and burning
strait through the cold months of winter.

I want to engulf myself
until your soul resembles an old friend,
your spirit is an inside joke,
and communication is secondary.

Even in the face of all your laudations
Almost tear inducing words
It will be so terrible when you find out
What happens next..

Such praise surely would
Have tempted this man from walking off.
At least everyone in their right mind
Would have concurred.

... But that is just not so in the mind
Of someone so bull headed.
So rigid in thought.
So unyeilding in person.

Like any branch
It will let out such
An unnerving snap
When the stress proves too much.

And no one will be ready for it.

Silver beams casting their rays of light, the breath visible in the air on a winters night. Sapphire petals fall from the heavens into the seas, fates design guides us like the wind in trees. Unyeilding heat takes over our hearts, the power of a flame igniting in the start. The eyes that watch us remain unseen, forgotten from our minds and shown in our dreams. Truth be told the white light from stars, are the souls of those who carried the most scars. Shining o'er us to help heal the pain, a pain that cant be dulled without blades against the veins. 'Cross the space of reality and the illusion of time, may two stars of the souls that shine. Seek out the other by following a small flame, a flame unseen 'til met by souls of the same.

I think we have a different sort of problem now...
One which has probably always plagued us,
Sometimes its embrace has held hold of us for so long
Realities were changed
The concept of "the other"
A simple idea, that you are not like me
A mechanism of the smallest
Most unevolved parts of our brains
Yet without which we could not "be"
The sense that
I am
The sense that
you are not what I call "me"
The basest recognition that we are different
How simple an idea - independent consciousness
That even genetically identical twins
Can recognize themselves from each other
"The other"
We've weaponized this basic perceptual function
Since the very dawn of our species
And through complexities of
Environment
Genetic bottlenecks
Genocides
We are all "I" now
Nearly 9 billion "I"s
All seeking an ability to be "we"
That is the basic function of civilization
To define "me" among the "we" and split our burden of work
For the greater survival of the "us"
But "us" is so much weaker than "we"
"Us" desperate in our divisions still seeking to be "I"
In a complex infrastructure that "me" can be a part of "we"...
This is how humanity is gas-lit and misled
Told to always be seeking, and never to be sought,
And if the "I" of a "me" is charismatic enough...
"We" let them lead "we" and in doing so
define an "us"
For now
Civilization must be governed
but "we" continue to give away all of our "I"s
to be "me" among the "we"
In theory to push "us" to progress
It's why terrorism has the wrong name
Each ruling faction in history
Was a "terrorist" to someone else
- to have made someone afraid
"Terrorism" seems to declare that the objective
Is nothing more than fear - so reductive
A sentiment to dehumanize their "us"
and label their "we" - "them"
To make their "we" less than our "us"
I prefer Organized Non-Unified State Actors (ONUS)
"Terrorism" sounds like an individual act
Coordinated by a conspiracy of individual acts
Robbing "their" identities of recognition
- which is probably what it all is ultimately about to begin with
"They" do not fit the fold of the agreements of the many civilized "we"s and want to be their own "us"
But there is no room, resource,
There is no time
Food
Water
"We" have already identified, occupied, and commodified
Every resource for an unaligned "us"
"You" must be "we" for your share and to survive
"Their" methods are poorly rationalized, but very intelligent
Bad intellect and severe commitment
"We" dream of conspiracy to make "our" "us" look capable
But their "us" is organized and capable
If "we" ever want to end terrorism
"we" need to call it what it is
Revolution with no vacancy
Organized groups of disuinified elements taking action
It doesnt matter that the "they" may not reach "their" goals
- "they" dont have enough "we"s on their team
"They" make "we" hurt
And shame "them" for it, ignorant to their "us"'s hurt
I am not making excuse or any compassion
for those among the universal "us"
Humanity, sapiens,
Who cannot get on board with "we"
because the most of the "we"s decided this is how it will be
And it is broken
And it is wrong
And there are many hurt
But "us" lives in a universe
finite in 'isms confined to our limited time
So as much as I or any "me" tries to recognize an ONUS
in the attempt of just being seen by "we"
It is always "the other", how are "they" unlike "me"
Not what do both "we"s share.
The world's greatest collection of "we"
Wrote arbitrary rules rules of "us" in this time
That "they" isn't yet a "we" for all
"we" are not yet "us"... too many "we"
too many poisoned by "me"
and worse
entitled by "I"
When "we" do we dont need lables anymore
Race, theology, gender - ways to describe "the other"
That will be a beautiful day
When the sun rises on a dead rock
Condemned to death by fire in unyeilding climate change
And then further pushed to annihilation by nuclear winter
Robert Frost was right
The world will end in Fire and Ice

Mist becomes my eyes as I see you no longer
Pronged with the tounge which once  spoke sweet nothings to my light which vaguely glistens in its kingdom
My Niagara no longer falls but instead freshets, causing damage to all things which  stand  in its path,  smiting   the unyeilding
You became my opioid, your kiss was   my aortic
Your chest was my boid and your feelings became  metaphoric,  saying

Your peace is my blanket
Your body is my home
Between your thighs I rise
Connected become our eyes as I ****** my love into the abyss
Now I leave , like I never came
I am not a peasant in eden
With you I leave no trace, for I lied  because I knew you would believe them
Intended to bring change to your heart like a depository but my contributions were not of goodness
With your mind I was fruitful and multiplied, you thought you were befitting, as I occlude your shade, know that I was and am flitting...away