The truth is, I’m not really sure who I am.  She told us to draw ourselves and then to draw our souls; so I drew my face scratched and uneven, just as I’ve always seen it, and frowned at the result both in the mirror and on the paper.  The only soul I’ve ever really known was the one that shone through the strokes of the keys I punched, the scrawling of ink on paper in mismatched arrays of awkward thoughts, disorientated and unorganized, shaded different spews of emotion and rearranged through the lens of ever last viewer’s eye.  Even so, this soul that is composed of words that defined me painted a picture vivid in its contrast, though blurry from both afar and close enough to squint, no details able to be made out.  These words that have wrapped around my soul rubbed raw from the time my skin first flinched at the cool March air cannot be deciphered by their author, though I know somehow that their letters flowing into one another say more than any curve of my face ever could.  These words are black and white, two extremes crafted in the pallet of the Universe’s toolshed, and perhaps that’s exactly what I am.  Black or white.  I’m dark and lost and scrounging for some rusting wall or tree branch to cling to as to ensure the shimmering waves, onyx and charcoal in their nature with the flow of blood in its spine, do not flood into my mouth at a rate in which is too quick to balance myself upon them, or, I’m white, drifting snow from a cloud scraping the vast expanse of brilliant blue gazing as a sky above all the world, pure, innocent, unscathed with the potential for creation in vibrancies yet unknown, or to be ripped to bits, scattered amongst piles of cream and autumn leaves drained of their color beneath months of shivering frost.  And so, perhaps any physical representation of my being would be all wrong, because that’s not what I am.  Myself, my soul, it resides in the murky depths of heights I’ve yet to discover, tethered endlessly and uncertain among the caverns of my inners, pink and mushy, stirred and ******, untouched from the harsh light of a world encased in brevity.

The myriad of possibilities
enliven my ******* semantics
somewhere to go when
my slippers tell me not to

The words that i exhale
are the engine that fuels imagination
something to sustain when
my noggin is void

The vibrancies that rattle me
attribute to the found experience
somehow they strum
when my heartstrings are mute

The mountains that topple me
serve demise to my slippery friends
someways i have adapted
now i listen to blue boots

In the midst of the horizontal black and white
Color is lost vertically within the silence
The ever bleeding captured vibrancies
Taken by those crude color blind tyrants
Fair-weather rainbows shining through the muck
Sailing beyond light stealing clouds
Where happiness colors often get stuck
But the sun still knows the moon
Our bright white in the cold black
For two things so far apart
They sure do interact
In the strangest way…

Sometimes you meet someone
who just seems to click.

I met that boy,
at a concert of all places.
He made me feel beautiful
and full of vibrant life.

Today we met up for coffee,
and he told me we weren't "working."
My vibrancies have vanished,
the butterflies
I wish we could have shared
through intimate exchanges
have escaped,
unplanned.

*I am numb

Become the young
Breathe the bitter air with vibrancies
Intake the lucid eye
Though you’ll never see it again
Once the juice runs out
Glide with hands spread on both sides
Scream death away
Kick the rain
Believe you can return it to the sky
Know that when you age
You’ll be there too
High as a kite

She is the Summer Roses exquisite sway
Their romantic sighs
and sweet tender laughter
She is the Beauty of the Tender rain
And Fine Wine moonlight
She is My Midnights star
Within the Vineyard skies of my love
and our Sweet loves kindred candles
She is a Luminous goddess
of our Loves Rose Gold moon
She gives of her love,
She gives of her Beauty,
Like the Moonlight And Evening rain

Her Beauty is Naked as The Summers
Moonlight and Poets melodious love
And sweet loving emotion
And devotion to Her exquisite beauty
That is like the sweetest rain
For their Loves unique honey flowers

Every midnight
is their sacred sweet loves sanctuary,
Sweet and deeply within the romance
Of their Souls
They are Spiritually married,
And their rings and prize
Is the dear rose bouquets
Of their transcendent love
and deep affections,
Cool as Shore waves, warm and tender
As Bonfires and exquisite
as the Moonlit Waterfalls

Within the vineyards of their love
They entwine like the Sublime vines
In the Honey breeze,
As Spiritual lovers their love
Gives moonlight to the rain and flowers
Romance is the dance they gift the lovers
And their Loves Melodies,
poems, and songs give birth to stars
Of fine champagne
Rainbows of fine love vibrancies,
And flowers of exquisite fine petals

Their love pours with the moonlight
Within pretty souls they comfort
With the dear caresses
of their love and songs,
They drink of its Fine wine

Poet and Rose Goddess and muse
They Soothe one another and others
With the sacred gift of their sweet love
Exquisite and Casual as the Evening rain
With the jazz waltz of Moonlight
They sweetly kiss and compassionately
Caress all
the weary and exquisite flowers
Swaying in the diamond stillness
And
Dreaming in the Midnight rain

Reynaldo Casison

Dear mom,

You’re not perfect
I know you never will be
Maybe I hold you too high a standard
That your legs and arms can’t reach
Maybe I hold grudges I shouldn’t
And I know that makes you feel upset
I have a hard time forgetting
But I do forgive
I’m not perfect
And you know I never will be

You’re my mom
Sometimes I act like you’re not
I’m guilty of spilling words of regret
I’m guilty just as you are of mistakes
I’m your son
Sometimes you acted like I’m not
You’re guilty of intolerance
You’re guilty just as I am of mistakes

Words have escaped our lips
We both know shouldn’t have been said
They lay in the past
With pain and regret
They’ve sprouted into something better
A feeling and movement of love
To conquer those bad vibrancies

It doesn’t take 24 hours to restore a wound
Yet I see your love through your actions
Wrapping itself on my scars
Eagerly wanting them to heal
And I hope as time passes you see me Walk through the pathway you’ve started to build


Often, we take one step forward and Two steps back
But we are always improving from the person we were yesterday
Hence progress that wasn’t always there
And I’m appreciative of the energy you set forth into me

Thank you.

She sways with a Beauty Exotic
Sweet as a Luminous and modest moon,
Roses of her unique sweet inkling
Dress our love And the gardens of June

Nightingales and candles sing
With her sweet romance,
In the isles of meant to sweetly love
As much as to adore
And the Moon is moved with Our love
To Sensuously waltz and Kindly dance

One Rose kiss of the gaze,
Sets our loves candles tenderly ablaze
One Generous Sway of the crescent coves
Of her jazz ballerina hips
Sets the moonlight and salsa waves
In sweet sweet motion
To Soothingly kiss
With poignant dear caresses,
Our love to Heavenly moonlit shores

And upon the deep vibrancies
And sweet cinema of her loving *******,
And within the Honey
of her Smoky mascara brow,
and Chopin nocturne cascades
Of her pretty rose waterfall soul,
A grace so exquisite and sweet,
a kindness so kissed
With rare enchantments,
A modesty so sultry, mellow, and wanton,
Compassions, tender warmths
Well caressed
With its alms, and with our loves
sweet rain
Exquisite flowers,
and
heavenly rose balms

Reynaldo Casison

You melted the snowflakes of winter
Like we long to melt away our blues
Your silhouette Moonlit and exotic
As the rain in Spain

Do they feel the rain
in the same way there
When it salsas like flamenco dancers
In the sweetly dark and brilliant
Vibrancies of their hair

I cruise within the honey waves
Of your enchanted beauty
With the moonlit silhouettes
In the rain
While stars drink in the stars champagne

If you were somewhere else
Like in a surreal dream
Would one feel the same things
Like the rain sun and moonlight
In a whole different way
Would the flowers
have a different
Sway about them
Would love and songs
Caress one in a whole unique manner
Or would the rain in spain
Always remain in the plain
Just the same
Moonlit silhouettes in the rain

Reynaldo Casison

The moon dreams
Upon the rose petals
And her crescent hips

They've felt the same
Weary wanderlust blues
and Sweet soothing jazz

The exotic gypsies have all the fun
Under the moonlight and sun

Montage a luminous blur

Sometimes even love is a costume,
At least it sways sweet in the Moonlight,

As long as it sways, the stillness
Shall have no qualms,
It can sway out of any gown,
And dance and prance
With Everybody and Noone around
To its own exquisite sounds

Sighs of Candelebras vintage as wine
Shimmers of salsa waves modern
As a blank canvas and gaze
Love in the plein air
Somewhere artists and revelers
Are popping the corks
Off of Vibrancies champagne bottles

Like neo bohemians in love
With the retro and enchanted rain

Painters are painting with the gaze
Of their palms, enough dust on our souls,
More kisses candle caresses starry mist
and ofcourse more petals to bloom

Still life Still Loves that stays
At least within sweet reveries

Petals and Costumes
Lovers and Romantics
Vantage of the moon is a  golden rose
Bouquet and Jazz cabaret

The diamonds and stars are glistening
For a sweeter luminous shore

Reynaldo Casison

Vines
Of a sublime vineyard
Waltzing
Like ballerina fireflies
In the cool spring stillnesss
Wishing for everyone
Some kind of heaven
Of their own understanding

Hips
Dreamy as a luminous shore
Sultry
Diamonds
Within the roses of gaze
Clouds swept
With moonlight
And evening stars ablaze
The love vibrancies
Of midnight sighs
Serenading

The reveries sway
Like Vineyard vixens
Exquisitely

A Golden rose bouquet
Given to every weary
and romantic gaze
The heavenly exotic moon
Its love and beams
For your surreal dreams
Through the clouds

Reynaldo Casison