The dream haunts me
often, far too often, building
in intensity but is initially
disguised in absurdity and the
nonsense of a young man's lusts
with an old man's deficits.
This woman-like entity,
ill-defined at first but forming
voluptuously, emerges from
swelling curtains. She moves, more
levitates, toward my bed, buoyed
by what I don't know, but angelic-like
it would seem. Or perhaps
an Aphrodite reincarnate?

Oh this goddess, what pale
skin, as Parian marble, full bosomed,
jutting *******, ***** that
beckon, nearly drool, and pursed
red lips beaded with sweet
juice stolen from the wild cherry
tree beneath my window.
Far too much clarity for a simple
dream. But such a dream! And what
seething testosterone I feel!
I am become a hedonist, raging,
pulsing spermatozoa, renewed
of time and youthful energies.

Nerve into nerve we join, ecstacy
compounding ecstacy, bodies wantonly
impaling the other on this love bed
to the result that each cell of our
individualities melds. We are indistinct,
yes - as one, and any ****** impulse
between us is shared to the point of
utter exhaustion, depletion. I am
nearly drained of life, it would seem.

Then, as it always must,
the scene changes, Act II.
Inexplicably, shedding a ******
serpentine-like skin, she slings it away
and drops limply upon me - entirely
skeletal, dry cartilage, sinew, lifeless,
sexless, motionless. The horror
of a diabolical hollowness
stares through me, and I am
suspended, fully terrorized, in
this paralysis. So, this is
succumbing to the Succubus?
God, my dear God, that I should
never dream again!

--

The music of life, at times, is a raucously *** concert
of ominously monotonous melodies sung sirenically
by voluptuously ugly monsters.

Curvaceous enough to flaunt the fact they’re actually ****.
Which makes you feel like an *** but that’s just the way
it was meant to be.

Then the chorus bombs in, and the song starts to get sweeter
since the tune becomes a lot like Bob’s album: Street-Legal.
But as quick as you can nictitate, the ****** you anticipate

flicks away like a spark that was never gonna be lit-to-flame.
And so revert the monsters, their obnoxiously off-key verse,
somehow being, paradoxically, still acceptably heard.

And I almost forgot to mention how horrifyingly awkward
the gawking audience dances! Watching it is honestly
the most awful part of this non-senseness.

Laying down in deep sleep
I see you
looking at me
from across the room
a holographic image,
as you lay down, too
in your faraway bed
in your faraway room
but your eyes, locked on mine
this is what's close
this is what's true
I feel your gaze
upon my third eye
feel your loving stare
deep inside
it penetrates and weaves its
way between the layers
of my heart
slices gently
tears me apart
being in torrid distance
sometimes hurts
and sometimes
I don't feel it at all
because in a space
beyond the ticking of clocks
in a set of hours
that exists beyond locks
in a private universe
that exists just for us
you are right here
breathing next to me
your chest rising with each
deep, relaxed breath
your mere presence
catching
           my
               fall
and as your eyes
radiate love into mine
from that bed across
the zoneless moon
our hands reach out,
fingers intertwine
two souls soldered
in landscapes separate
yet spanning the waves
across time

(and our nightair kisses
fly like the tiniest of flowers
confetti gliding
voluptuously sweet
and unfolding
in raging, perpetual
         bloom)

You told me my colors clashed
But I think them more to dash
and lash out
at passersby to sing and scream,
to shout
to sigh and shrug,
to let it all out

To breathe real deep and hold it there
my chest the spectrum swells to a tear
dulls, pallids, dry and opaque
to sing and scream, to shout,
to shake.
Violently to wake.

Violently vaporize voluptuously
from lustful lucidity lusciously
to chromatically color kaleidoscopically
and wake.
Silently shake and to...
Brilliantly Break.

Such a brilliant break, the day's.
To shatter smoothly in calm collision

through the dripping dew, the haze
Oh the grip of you, the taste

        Such a fantastic fission
Illuminate
          Such a drastic decision
in a dreamstate.
             Such a calm collision.

You told me my colors clashed.

Your eyes, my sinking shrine
A wishing well in Town Square
filled with hope and change over time
Long and Loving I would sweetly stare
copper glowin' fine

Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
what new love with my coins did you buy?

Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
was my wishing well shrine emptied in the night?

Your eyes, at the present, you forgot to mention
why void of shine, lined with lies?




You told me my colors clashed
Your eyes, though sublime,
Maybe Mis-matched.

swirling
living
in a world
filled
with vicarious
vicious doubt
spreading
a cancer throughout
lingering
for moments
hours
days
weeks
months
then dissipating
softly through
the indigo midnight bloom
filling crevasses
exploding voluptuously
in a brilliant crimson
clouds of dust
ending day
while beginning night
coaxing death
aching
for tranquility
in quiet hours
fearless at dawn
shivering
in the absence of warmth
taking
soft, lonely steps
towards unknown pleasures
yearning
begging
for the sun’s eager rays
to cast long, winter shadows
to awaken us
and to bring
an end
to slumber
in the young hours
restless shifting
and beating fingers
grazing lips
across frozen air
capturing breath
and slowing recovery
spring
blooms tulips
and she
is there
only she
lingers
taking my eyes
and sealing
my quivering mouth shut
with subtle words
robbing me
of my senses
driving
me to the bring of madness
and deserting me
in azure fields
tinged
with velvet gold
she takes
my thoughts
wrapping them
in delicate papyrus
savors them
like i savor
her presence
her silver
her waves
of silken tones
her musical strings
her tulips
in blooming spring
driving away
madness
only her

my heart is airy as a feather in flight
I have now striven what I wished to write...
tender words of joyous fun
a path so pleasantly traversed, is now done

recounting perceptions of your wondrous ways
robustly enchants all my days
no matter for now, I can't squeeze you tight
or whisper a sweet kiss and say good night

your smiles ****** and voices resound
for you are all here... so easily found
Hayden's sharp wit,  Klyan’s elegant surprise
Thalia's wiggly walk, mommies deep, opal eyes

inscribed here is my love with fervent sigh
permanent as sun in the morning sky
let’s dream on together... it's already fall
in a time soon to come, I will embrace you all

For Hayden Enan...
smartness resides in his vibrant smile
when he speaks always linger awhile
soundly imagined... so brightly lit
beguiling in his engaging wit

of cosmos and wonders so very bold
far from his years, distanced from old
eyes aglow... filled with challenging delight
entranced and sparked by ideas so bright

happily witnessed, abundant with joy
his father’s dreamboat, our big, big boy
with his mind and days complex and laden
one is always in awe, here comes... Hayden

For Kylan Kafu...
words with aplomb and consummate wit
wondrous imaginations, so readily fit
of galaxies, action heroes, his peachy sis
tendered and nuanced he's never remiss

stay still, listen up and hear him well
ready with buoyant laughter to tell
sit glorified in his iridescent smile
a charm, a goose, a country mile

face, a visage of handsome gone wild
our daily amazement, this extraordinary child
knowing and caring, what right to do
a joy to behold, our precious Kylu

For Tahlia Lehsan...
sleeping like an angel, she awakes a princess
with crystalline eyes and smiling caress
now off with her brothers, her day to whirl
my joyously strong, bounding big girl

“it’s my way or the highway”, she’ll give you the choice  
with directness and surety in powerful voice
running to claim another best place to be
comfy chair, mommy's lap... under that tree

calling out “Hayden”, “Kylan” “time to play”
pantomime, dance, and songs fill her day...  
wonder and delight, her name ends in “ahhh”
ablaze in curls, our beautiful Tahlia

For  Elvire...
here's mother, mom, earth, morning and all
guiding strength and total recall
beautiful, erudite... smiles that ignite
seeking, spinning to all our delight

a gaggle of yes, nos, dancing and song
packed bags, hot plates... “let's move along”
an heiress of style and eminent grace
wrapped so deftly in burgundy and lace

voluptuously tall flowing gait...
hurried and dabbled, she’s worth the wait
how fortunate am I sharing one so near
a symphony of bests... my dearest Elvire

Through the forests of an old desire,
I have trod with utmost fear and dread,
While I voluptuously fought with fire,
I've known the demons that there spread,

That spread in their fantastic evil,
Whispering ghastly secrets of the dead.

Wind was fierce in his ways most cryptic,
Speaking things of odds unspeakable.
I've learned what lurks in skies ecliptic,
Daring fiends of spheres unreachable.

They swarmed in myriads of dauntless imps,
Of horrid eyes and reddish wings.

Aghast I saw them eating flesh,
Of ghoulish creatures dead and fresh.
Their voice was as if chasm had mouth,
Yawning like stars past flaming south,

It roared most grisly in its despair,
As if my thoughts it used to share.

Through the forests of that old desire,
I have dwelt in caves of fear and dread,
While I voluptuously fought with ire,
Against the demons that there spread,

That spread in their unholy lust,
Bringing a Succubus of their trust,

For me to copulate with,
And not forget my secret lust.

No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just an interpreter of tales in which tears are drops of longing ...
Tales, in which I hear through my ears
echoes of an invisible and indivisible world ...
I sometimes like to pour myself a little red
and sweet wine of the silence cup,
the inner silence is erupting from me,
which seems to me to be a deaf-mute dispute between heart and reason ...

No, I'm not a poet.
Only words are fighting against me,
but still, I feel my heart is lifting in their arms,
with the same intensity as at the beginning...
The letters in my words do not need arguments,
they just want to free themselves,
to touch souls more and more, joining in verses,
their destinies being knotted with rhymes ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I'm just a human beeing who, for a few moments,
has a breath of inspiration,
swallowing with greed the air from the room
where I lay down my silence, my love, my longing,
trying to transform words into a vibrant power, almost tangible.
Sometimes I use words with a killing flesh of attraction,
like a masterful crowning of the letters that take hold of my pen...
and sometimes with a gentle, sweet glance,
whispering voluptuously, making my rhymes fall on their knees ...


No, I'm not a poet.
I just measure the universe with a hungry, critically eye-catching curiosity,
while the aroma of my coffee is flowing in the air,
escaping from the espresso,
mysteriously and dazzling...
I just caress the words on the pavements of the lyrics
peeled by the rains of the heart where the letters are sad and lonely...

Now I retire with a slight bow,
as an unspoken satisfaction, in front of all those who read me,
in front of the ones you know me...
A delusive lust to write a few lyrics has taken me by surprise...
maybe about truth, maybe about numb dreams,
maybe about the cure of lost hearts... which is love!

And when your day expose to test,
Come home to where your soul can rest
Darling come home

The night lit up by lovers yearn
wet lips taught
breathed an impassioned nocturne
The winds lament
swells the air
milk dampened with opaline tears
the sweat on flesh and fear
High as the rising tide
with might and main
with lust and claim
one slow kiss at a time
Fingers on flesh,
tracing my heart in hand
languished and bracing
In your eyes I am mirrored pallid
these naked gentle bones
back arched,
arms outstretched
innocense exposed

My lovers heart beats devoted
his pulse of heat is mine the same
two bodies embraced
my skin of silk his body drapes
This passionate heart,
his native drum
with every beat a roaring thunder runs
My eyes are of twilight and dawn
jewels your fingers give to me
flowering and brown
wild as the forest
calm as meadow
both dance,
my dearest fortune dances voluptuously on my belly

My body yearns
entranced with every breath
the rise and fall from his two iron gates
my fingers fleet to caress
Arms like veins up along my thighs
make me weak at the knees
as I fall into your sea
great body of beauty
wash over me
Come to my mouth
sweet, perfumed tongue
where my lips pour sweet wine
and drink my breath of infinite kisses
I am his queen
His body lapped over me
as if he was caressing his own white casket

Vagabonds enslaved to this beauty
Reckless creatures



"Your Gaze, Your Mouth, Your Foot, Opens Door",
(c) Jul 19, 2008 , Bellabloom, and its affiliates and assigns and licencors
All rights reserved

Tonight the moon,
Voluptuously full and swollen
Moved close to me
And whispered -
(The way new lovers often do in the early hours
When they are sure the other is still sleeping,
Or too groggy to understand )

And truly I did not understand -
But I smiled and nodded
And continued our walk.

Now as I try to reconstruct the moment
I can’t help thinking
That beneath the sweet, gentle lightness
of the night breeze
There were overtones of something much darker.
Shadows mixed with dreams
Mixed with dreams
Mixed with moonbeams.

on the stairs in front of the old row house
two doors on the front between two Azaleas beautifully
displaying their grandeur
I sit non-competitive with a thing in this world
the paint flaking under my *** on the worn out tongue and groove floor
and a tilted brick post supports the roof
and I am concretely not caring
about peeling paint or the leaky roof
or the neighbor's complaining constantly how my
Gardenia bushes by the property line so full so gorgeous
voluptuously block their view
little things don't matter I sweat them off
because I got some heavy duty
anti-perspirant I cook up myself
don't tell the DEA

The sounds of her sighs
Slid voluptuously
Long into my wakening nights
She made me a lover,
Of common things,
She made me a lover, of light.

title: leftover;
body: comb-over blonde
"bruise".

the music is not loud enough...
i SAID: THE MUSIC IS NOT LOUD ENOUGH!
the cats look bothersome,
circling me like i'm to something...
there's still plenty to do to fill the day...
Ghost's Call Me Little Sunshine...
of course i've been drinking...
looking out for swans in the clouds...
and Behemoth...
what a pristine winter this has come to be....
no better season to fall in love...
i still have to do the vacuuming...
will i iron my shirts today, or is that... tomorrow?
i don't give a **** about how she feels...
i like feeling in love...
i love it more when i've drank a little
and have a canvas of responsibility
before me, itching me with all those priors...
i love how i'm feeling at this moment...
today i said my first cliché...
it felt that i awoke into a dream...
no, not even i tried to burn my left hand's knuckles
with cigarette buts....
it wouldn't matter... i enjoy pain...
that's the "problem".... i think i'm still dreaming...
given that i dream so little
when sleeping... i just sleep...
zombie cult of the void: that's me...
she'll think very little of it...
but i just gave her a piece of my soul...
my handwriting...
            when females write they write...
voluptuously... girly...
they write like they look...
oh mein gott... and if they connect the letters?
i was once allowed
before the QWERTY transformation
took place...
i write in digits... i wish i could retain
the "ancients" handwriting, connecting
the letters in a word and segregating the words
apart... alas... ha ha...
i stroke my beard imagining a violin...

i was looking at the sky and thinking of etymology...
a few birds flew by...
if gołąb: for dove sounds ugly...
what about the English equivalent of
seagull - in my tongue it's a: i'll need to employ
the tetragrammaton to stress the aesthetic...
m'eh-v'ah... mewa... (w = ł = v / vw)...
there's no 5 in the ****** tongue...
"double U" my ***... it's a double V... 55...

swan vs. łabądź...
                             i'm sorry to say...
English has no supposed superiority as a language
per se... it's the values of the English that
make it such a desirable destination...
the language itself is a ******* Frankenstein ugly...
there are just too many loops in the holes
in it... to allow myself to be defending it...
then again... i will, regardless...

but there are certain nouns that sound better
in different languages...
blau sounds better than blue...
better still... NIEBIESKI...
red... rot... CZERWONY (ČERVONÝ)...

and all this pronoun crap... sure... sure... i took
the royal approach... you want gender neutrality?!
my "preferred" pronouns are:
ONE & WE... how's that?
one might add, that we ought to fathom taking up
this sort of approach, are we agreed upon?
i'm a foreigner, this is not my native tongue...
but if the natives want to abuse their zunge to
the extent that foreigners mind the supposed
revisions... you know you're knee-deep in sham-b'oh...
****...  what's a szambo? in the countryside
that's the hole in the ground where all the ****
is deposited into...

  yeah... oh... oh... you figured?! ******* Sherlock over
'ere is on the wrong side of...
what it feels like having been born in a former
satellite state of the Soviet Union at a time
when western capitalism was giving the red button
on exporting metallurgy from Europe &
everything else toward the project:
Made In China...

                 what are we doing?
     ****'s sake... for the most part i think i'm just...
loitering... getting brain-drain...
but that's just me... perhaps other people think they're
actually important... those casually orientated
busy-bodies... me? i'm just loitering...
getting my brain drained from existence...
juiced up into a pickle-jar...

it's enough for me to stub out cigarettes on my knuckles
in order to make my job easier...
just look more intimidating...
persuade the football hooligans to desist from
trying to have a physical confrontation with
you... just like a bicyclist can become
a "shepherd" of the traffic...
if he knows the formidability of arrogance...
or aggressive cycling...
the cars will follow suite...

            and all this talk of love... i still have to vacuum
the house... clean the toilet... blah blah...
check on my bicycle... since all for green power...
blah... and i like the idea of generating my own
momentum... radfahren in die nacht...

lucky me for not wanting "enough" money...
just have these banknotes from Imperial Russia....
and those gold coins with
the emblem of Nicholas II... keep them safe...
now, the dictates of petty women playing their games...
their petty games... while i sit back & watch....
i know that i'm sitting on mint...
if i'd walk up to any Russian Oligarch...
i'd get back 100x the returns...
i'm just waiting for the right time...
but i'm just waiting... loitering like a fly...

            i won't be eating much today....
i can play the role of LOSER...
    i'll wait... and... i'll wait...
          i'm sitting on a jackpot... though...
it's a nice filter to have...
        of the people that treat me nice...
of the people that treat me like ****...
i'll still buy them flowers....
much easier compared to dancing
on their graves...

    oh... Jeminah... your name ought to be a curse
word for me... all the prior Gemmas...
Jemmas... have been nothing but curses
in my "calendar"...
with one i asked for a photograph
so i could sketch her back to her...
she agreed...

          i will continue to love...
even if i'm to be topped up with exasperation(s)...
i will love... because...
there's no amount of adrenaline
that can match up to this sort of level
of exhaustion.....
    i love because of what i feel,
rather... what i'm expected to give / forgive...

solipsist, i,
i like feeling what i necessarily am reluctant
to give.