it is beautiful
it is majestic
and it is guileful
and is eccentric

a speck on the tower of wall
that bridges and connects
two different enthralls
even fate dare not object

i was on its foot,
for i sought to grasp
and tried to peek
on the place it leads

i listen to the jarring echoes
the other side is full; a chaos
it seems, but i felt solace
in its mournful yet soulful melody

i heard words that are familiar
those that i chose to blur
in my being for a long strife
that i dwell to keep inside in an eternity

i ought to release the beautiful words
that is long chained
i long to feel the majestic emptiness
and sense the other side that is zestful
and clutch onto its empathetic possibilities

only if it bridges to a multitude,
only if perspective it will connect,
only if it is not unchained,
only if it is opened.

You are

*******
Brilliant
Con man
Devoted
Enigmatic
Father
Gregarious
Healer
Indignant
Jovial
K­artikeya
Liar
Machiavellian
Narcissist
Ogre
Provider
Quaint
Resil­ient
Sage
Thief
Ubiquitous
Vagrant
Wanted
Xylene
Yawl
Zestful

All these things are only a small representation of that which you were.

To be honest

These are
only the things
That I recall
You being to me
Being for me

I refuse to Sanctify you
I refuse to Demonize you

You Sir

Gone so many days
Missed for so long
Moons have passed

Pleasures which I
I prayed you observed

Millions of events large and small
have come and gone since that day

Most of which
are insignificant

Many of which
will never be complete with out you having been there

You are gone
these things are what you were

you are still alive in me
so they are things that you are

and I have to accept that I am.

It has been 9 years and counting...

r.i.p.
Pops

Ian Kennedy and Pavle Pavlović

As Sol the Rouge begins to rise,
it warms Eve’s heart, but Downs her eyes.
A dusty halo round the flame
will touch the dunes and dawn proclaim,
as distant dusty storms reflect
on Eve’s dry eye and her deject.
To get up now it is her task –
No more in Sol-light can she bask.

You must recall: it was Eve’s Gran
who went to Mars to start a clan.
From little pool Eve chose her Buzz
and paired with him, who was her cuzz.
Through porthole now Eve sees no wood,
nor earthy ground for motherhood.
With hasty zeal space courier flies;
A sandy landing ’fore her eyes.

So, as the dawn of morn is broke,
our Eve then hops, with grace unspoke,
goes out of base to Lander Stop
to fetch the parcel she does hop.
Her ‘FedEx’ was by Earth prepaid,
and on this day had come her AID,  
by careful voyage, with prosp’rous end,
the ***** arrived that Earth did send!

Low-G and man-made air do need
the seed to make a better breed.
Incestuously is not a scheme:
a gene pool needs a brand new stream.
We want no feeble Mars-strain seed,
So A.I.Dee is for the deed.
From Earth doth come the flow of genes
as bottled stuff – you know the means!

To make the Martians extra strong
The Earth Decreed all inbreeds wrong:
All ***** from Earth-bound men must come.
Through outer space it must have swum!
In DNA do secrets lie,
tho’ some do think that fated sky
will give them scope to freely screen
the final flux of wanted gene.

“I’m not at ease, but lurk and look –
  I peer at pack from Earthly nook.
  Where linger ye, my family lift
  to proffer me some needed gift
  of fruit or nuts and comfort care?
  The time is right to use what’s there?
  No creature comfort do I need.
  My friends, I’m ready for some seed!”

“My boy must have my Buzz’s face,
  and then our girl should have his grace.
  A pigeon pair with rusty hair,
  and maybe also one as spare.
  We want his freckles on each cheek,
  that all who pass-by touch and tweak.
  Buzz wants them looking just like he
  yet also really be like me!”
                                                        
The­ season’s winds bring rain and freeze
and stirs up dust with just a breeze.
And when Sol’s power does make it soar,
the wind behind rolls more before.
If’s no heat from sunless sky,
with daylight gone, the storm does die.
Unlike her feelings which grow strong,
uprooting thoughts of what is wrong.

The storm now sounds like raging ire,
and echoes of her inner fire.
As sand blocks Sol for just a while,
it’s just so long that she’s fertile.
With redhead Buzz she wants to splurge.
To break Decree she now has urge.
“I need a gravid tum, now mine’s too thin!
  A child by him: I need to sin?”

To lock herself to Earthly Kit
and shrug off worry just a bit?
But she recalls her lover’s eyes
as endless hormones swell and rise.
“Here is The Kit for you to use”.
“I do detest! I do refuse!
Then fast it dawned on me.” – she smiled –
“I’ll flip the way to have my child.”

“ So at a juncture here I stand,
  with earthy Kit in my right hand.
  Now let me throw it out as trash,
  and see Kit burn to light gray ash!
  For we are first to break Decree.
  Oh gosh, it’s us! My god, it’s me!
  On Mars it is a primal crime!
  ’Hind bars might we be held to time?”

Unlike the Martian pioneer race,
they can no longer pick their place.
Air in the base is made for breath,
for outer air is instant death.
So Eve and Buzz are in the can.
And who’s to blame? It was their gran!
The Space Base is completely jail!
(Nor could they ever raise some bail.)

As red sky flares in real turn
then Earth’s old rules do curl and burn.
While sky does grow in ****** glow
Her love for Buzz will drive the flow.
“’Tis I, the bandit, burned The Kit,
with Buzz my man! To Earth: ‘Go flit!’
Like clarion storm I’ll shout, Rejoice!
and fiercely punch the air with voice.”

“This is the daybreak of my life!
  Tonight I really will be wife.
  I know this is my true found right –
  No more for me, moist tears at night.
  Instead, I spread some happy joy
  towards my big and beaming ‘boy’.
  O, Oh! how happy we are free,
  just jestful, zestful, Buzz and me!"

Next E-mail from the Earth appears,
and has our happy pair roll tears.
“A flaw was found in chromosome  
On all accounts must ***** succumb”!
“My heart confirms that right’s my choice:
  oh, come with me, let us rejoice!
  Today Mars broke the Earth’s Decree
  Last night we loved in our low-G!”

Next Sol does rise – Eve’s hopes do too,
as thoughts begin for Martian coup.
“Can women have new Martian Law
  to stop the rules that have a flaw?”  
“The Laws of Eve on Mars now reign
  and Earth does not its Laws ordain.
  From Earth it is today we deign
  that laws of Earth and Mars are twain.”

-----------------
Legal opinion: Eve's love-making was incestuous in two ways as it 1) involved having excessive intimacy in one third gravity 2) was with Buzz, her third generation cousin, which was against the reigning Earth Rule. (She escaped sanctions by going on to found the Martian Unilateral Declaration of Independence!)

Your contagious grin,
Your bubbly happiness,
Your zestful spirit.
You are an unintentional liar,
with a simulated appearance.
The world misled by this facade.
I know you though,
as clear as the cloudless sky,
and I hear them all,
the thunders,
in your sighs.

Saying your name is like singing a melody.
Through grace and rhythmic harmonious symmetry.
Easing every moment in posthumous remedy.
Printed in the stars, your face and your name my lady.
Here I stand, beside your golden throne.
As if the moment will soon be gone.
No single lifetime is more than enough.
If you won't be here with me, in times so tough.
Each moment is like forever, so please leave me, never;

Momentous in your presence, is my heart;
Enchanted, still hoping, though we're worlds apart.
Night may come and dusk may arrive,
Dawn will appear after, and I'll be alive.
Only for one moment in such little time.
Zestful and beautiful may even rhyme.
And you my girl, my woman, my lady, would forever be mine.....

Ambitious achievements
Believable dreams
Continual dedication
Distinguished devotions
Empathy assembles
Fabulous frames
Genuine exceeds
Helpful highlights
Indications increase
Joyful overpowers
Kindness proceeds
Laughter succeeds
Management changes
Nomination strengthens
Optimism produces
Politeness conquers
Quiet decides
Restful reminds us
Satisfying solutions
Triumphant sensations
Understandable involvements
Victory defeats
Worthiness reigns
X-ray heals questions with
Yearning desires
Zestful concludes 26 meanings

Deborrah Ann Stenberg

Another dab of red on her lip
A final spray of fragrance
Baubles cuffing her dainty wrists
And a spring in her step

She steps out and steps into the car
Their eyes meet, a sparkle across one of her 32
He nods with a giggle, "Finally, the day has arrived..."
Zestful fingers turn the key, the engine revs up

And like always, she completes his sentence
With a bright one across her face
"Yes, the day we set each other free."
And together they burst

While little Macy and Phillip
Make promises, young in love
From afar, below the cliff,
They see light shine so bright, like fire burst

And perhaps, they were only firecrackers
Thinks Phillip, his innocent mind
Unable to tell a blast from a burst
But Macy knows, for she caused the brakes to fail

They say 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.'
Had 'they' made lemonade before,
'they' would know just how much sugar is required to do so,
and life rarely throws that at us.
Even if it did, it would be hard to pick up, what with it being dissolved in residual lemon juice and all that.
But that's beside the point.

She stands there being
pummelled
with
lemons.
Not even sour-faced
although the acidity erodes her open wounds.

I ask 'does it not burn?'
She replies 'just tingles like a lemony sun'
and then smiles that crescent silver lining
which tames the acrimonious bite that makes me wince.

Little lemon pip tears drop from my eyes
and she collects them in her palms.
'Just a yellow lemon tree,' she sings in her zestful tone.

She may not be the type to catch, juggle and juice them,
but if she could,
she would be the sugar in her lemonade.

A home
un-bounded love.. and light
with growing
dark hidden fissures
from stabbing inquiries..
each day's exhortation
to depart and exhale..
fierce need to locate
the source of his
heart's agitation...

Inheritance pleaded and won
exceedingly more than
the packet he carried..
exaltation.. expanding.. exhaling
a journey begun with
destination promising the
solutions he sought...

Arrival unease..inquiries
begin to unfold..
gathering clouds.. dark
shadings of fear and doubt..
questions persisting once more
desparate need.. to inhale..

At last recalling inherited light
remembering.. immediately
he knew..
a season now ending
his identity now clear
confidence leaping.. inhaling
electricity flowing
home-bound...

A welcoming light
celebration and feasting
soon shaded by
a brother's irritation..
sharp glances absorbed
with joyful glow..
he recognized an echo
of recent ventures below..
brother's birthing pains
a gift
of precious in-sight...

New departure now pending
spring's budding and fragrance
life breathes with seasons
inherited light
zestful.. exhaling
new creation.. calling
from those places
below.

I keep waiting
every single day
for your return
with a bag
full of memories
and good times
that we shared
Where are you?
I can't see
the slightest hint
of your presence
What about those
promises of 'forever'?
Why did you
start an end?
Now I wonder
if you will
ever come back
in good time
or will you
let me down?
Now I fear
you will return
zestful as ever
hopeful to run
but I won't
be able to
for I would
be too exhausted
of this wait
only to run
away from you.

Before…

Before I knew you as Divine woman, I longed for your presence, In time i knew nothing could break our bond…

but that was before I knew you,

I know you now, and time is of the essence I was right all along, you indeed are my true sister. My confidant. I call you Mother.one of four souls highly blessed due to their grandfather's highly respected works through preaching the gospel humbly,
truly one of a kind, everyone loves their grandparents and deem them special. and I am no different,
To have known my grandfather Neo Garvin, is to have known what it means to be touched by an angel,
He and My grandmother(still young and beautiful as ever) chose to choose one another until death bid them ado,
The reaper comes to collect the souls of the ******,
God comes and gets his children, he sends special hands to aid in the process, he is always with me that i know is certain, unlike any other thing in this world, with every theory, every question,problem and solution is a percentage of dis-trust in it..
conflicting irony they call it,
how can you dis-trust and love, they are opposite.
we are made in God's image, we are made in the image of LOVE, does that mean perfection is granted to all those who are believers?
depending on how you see life ,
the pitcher there, do you see it as half empty or half full
what about your gratitude towards your parents how do you see that glass?
Would seeing the glass as half full when you believe it is in fact as empty as a sponged, squeezed?
just give it a  paradoxical shrug, these kinds of situations are difficult, but normal, bound to happen right?
God chose belief in my ordanement , redeemed aren't I ?
Redeemed until validated my the ticket holder of my life and heart, the judge of my doings, the criticism I openly accept, as long as it's through verbal or small practical eveyday spiritual acts . I accept that I am chosen for his kingdom, that his love has an actual warmth, sitting in a melting *** of the fireplace infused with the cold air knocking, like an unwelcomed visitor .
The irony sets in
we'd all had a good laugh at that, we'd laugh so hard and got it all on camera, I think we'd have a shot and one of those zestful family movies, we'd at least get a premiere on abc channel  and its got just enough of a zoetiec vibe for lifetime.
the dictionary's failed attempt at defining the depth and the vague imprint it left on my brain, torturing me to awaken from my cocoon and speak,
for my ancestors and the divine woman that is Deidra, Thee divine woman(along with the help of the divine masculine) who taught me to open my mouth if you've got something to say,
Who knew that those words were seeds!?
I studied her as she sewed them everyday religiously, even on the rainy days when life seemed to be in the midst of hurricane force winds, she watered that garden the best she knew how and to me it is perfection.I'd try to convince her not to worry about my garden so much that she'd forget to have her flowers bloom
The divine woman a natural incubator , genetically undeniable that we are the divinity this world needs. She knew of my reaping harvest and that it would grow to be my inner voice, that is love.I am wise
you know what zoetic means to me?
zoetic is the slashes against my back until the age of seventeen, i think zoetic are the beautiful dressings that hold us
capture us, in fear of  running off into something so beautifully damaged people might -pay more attention to the clown than the performance.
one of those and even the "non spitiual people",
what right did i have to be set apart from the world
an evolving theory that grows only in fondness and size of it's essence,
only air , unparalleled
you dare not have a speck of shame you, look in the mirror if you'd like but careful not to interfere with his creation, or its is a matter of time before your left like ...
adam and eve...
floating.
to have that privilege, to my mother

I imagined what our past-times would resemble, that you’d vacate my soul with a message, in times, I need, remember.

maybe it would be poetic, or wise in hindsight, something that’d force my mind to clear the mess in the backseat to make room for a new shotgun rider

an inquiry you leave me with daily, as our hands unmesh and I drift off into sleep, that is the only time you leave, and quickly appear as i awake, without you, How could i face the day?

A stone immortal you are, with no works of erosion, to seep through your cracks, your spirit un-touched, you are the concrete to my heart, unfinished knicks and knacks. i’d never put  youdown, divine in me tells me “reach for your crown, it’s time we take a break, I’ll never leave you but it is now my time, to clear the backseat and make way.”.

as i watch her tidy up the backseat moving chaos and fear into the far right corner, she hops in the back and sits where I can see her,

navigating me, acting as an GPS, divine in me I trust in nothing less.

The sun in her last strength,
As she readies to takes her rest,
for the next day at length.

Leaves behind a pretty picture,
One of,
Orange,
Blue, and
Violet.

Composed and hinged,
All perfectly together,
In the most beautiful gradiant.

Admiring her zestful Rays,
Landing a simple kiss,
As she gently fades.

Into the noir sky we go,
But I will see you again,
Because you are, you know,
The best part of my mornings.

Alas, ridding,
every nasty thought,
inside.

Leaving everything
zestful, especially roses,
on precious hills,
yodeling loudly.

Hey, I know you
Your infectious simper
Your zestful spirit
You're an unwitting fibber
With a simulated first blush
The universe beguiled by this facade
Little one please hush
I know you
As clear as day
And I hear them all
The rumble in your sighs
The couch in your tears
And your silent cries
But in the midst of it all
I stand tall
Reaching out to you
As your first love
Echoing in your head
That all I've ever said
Shall be fulfilled
In due time
Just give the time some time
And always remember
That you're never alone
Hey, I know you
Your infectious simper
Your zestful spirit
You're an unwitting fibber
With a simulated first blush
The universe beguiled by this facade
Little one please hush
I know you
As clear as day
And I hear them all
The rumble in your sighs
The couch in your tears
And your silent cries
But in the midst of it all
I stand tall
Reaching out to you
As your first love
Echoing in your head
That all I've ever said
Shall be fulfilled
In due time
Just give the time some time
And always remember
That you're never alone

People often think that I’m weird
Because I love to read
German grammar and usage texts.
Okay, I concede:
 
It’s not normal to read through
Such books from cover to cover;
But it’s not so strange when you are considered
A German language lover.
 
It also makes sense when one’s
A German language learner
To read a book most people consider
NOT a real page turner.
 
But German—Ach!—I love the language;
I love to speak it and hear it.
I love how it bounces off the tongue.
(It’s a shame that some won’t go near it.)
 
The language really tickles my ears;
To me it doesn’t sound snooty.
Because of its crispness and clarity, I
Appreciate its beauty.
 
Unlike the Italians, the Germans don’t
Talk with their hands.
They also don’t sound like drill sergeants
Shouting out commands.
 
And Germans, unlike speakers of English,
Don’t confuse “her” with “she”;
They also don’t have a problem knowing
When to use “I” or “me.”
 
The German language sounds fresh and vivid,
Vivacious, spirited, and zestful.
It’s not a language that lulls you to sleep
In a manner quiet and restful.
 
Listen to the great German poems
That go back many years
By Eichendorff, Goethe, and Heine.
Music to my ears!
 
Don’t forget that English is
A Germanic language. It’s true!
But now a lot of our words come from Latin
And other languages, too.
 
When I’m feeling down in the dumps,
Sad or a little morose,
All I need to perk me up
Is German in a large dose.
 
Beauty is in the eye of the viewer;
That idea holds sway.
It’s also in the ear of the listener.
What more can I say?

- by Bob B

A person with intentions to love forever only deflowers.
I was wrong, I remember
Those nights, it was nothing but plum kisses from left to right
And your nose tickling my stomach.
Zestful.

All the blood would flow to my head.
Making me pink with ecstasy.
The nectarous smell of excretion fulfilled an image
And our fingers--- they would intertwine as if you felt I would slip away.
Sensational… amorous!

You would look me in the eyes, I would
look you in the eyes, a message would travel
this is more than just coition. Well in my
noggin I believed that. You wear a good look, callous.
I’ve been dumbfounded.

I look in the mirror. I am a stranger
To what I see. I now feel stripped
From my myself, your pupils have seen it all. You did this.
I feel disgusted, letting you dine
As if I was a restaurant. Twiddling and fumbling
As if you were blind and I was braille.

I now bathe in regret. Scrubbing
Till I can no longer feel your touch.

Zestful is his demeanor

Alluring is his mind

Young he is at heart

Noble he is on a whole

Omnipotent is his soul

Nurturing he is, most of all

And a letter of his name starts each line of this poem

Matters passed into the silence
We're both left as nemophilists
Too tired to breathe sprightly
Color the sea, another sky for me
Beautiful yellow as your hair, dress and comb
You are sylphic with skin of peachy monochrome
From sunset, sunrise your body feels of foam
Yet again to whisper "lets get lost'' in a brisk tone
But I cannot see into the sunset
All I know is that you're perfect right now
The zestful weekend’s almost here now
The furthest reaches of your nowhere town
Making peace with an empty town

Those days when you just can’t wait to go to bed.
Not to slump down onto it in yielding surrender
or fall into it in tears, face first and meat red,
but to gently pull back the pillowy quilt
and the sheets, with tiny blue flowers,
flannelette, like a fresh work shirt,
so that when you slide in carefully
and make your cave in the sheets
the hug is work-arm strong
and reminds you of soil
and wheelbarrows
and gardening
and building
in the sun
as it sets…
and rises…
open eyes
still hugged,
you stand lightly
then soft pad to warm,
dark, sweet, pitch-bitter
coffee, and lifting the mug,
you pause before the first sip
of bliss, flooding deep in waking
flavours from magic beans grown
in ancient Ethiopian forests, noticed
by folk when curious goats turned zestful,
becoming a helper for evening prayer, to allow
hard work and intentional presence to earn well
your tiredness, so that you just can’t wait to go to bed…

(pronounced – u jai yah)

The following haphazardly cobbled together some few years past (initially as a reasonable rhyme), nevertheless sustained discipline yours truly mather of fact doth cotton metaphorical gin still spins (yarn not gonna believe poppycock) within livingsocial as outcast of poker flats pun gent, whereby I strive to meditate successfully daily upwelling groovy sensation some hours doth last balloons within me buoying airborne courtesy spiritual blast.

Approximately three plus decades ago, I became ambitious to learn Yoga Asanas blow pesky mind chatter away (postures) despite inflexible body non coe whopper rating adamantly refusing to bend doe like (no just at the knee), but essentially flow wing stretches, while uncomfortably seated go wing to floor.

Mine physique experiences non Joe veal extreme difficulty involved simply seating stiff - NO can do sitting, whence, bony **** versus slightly more addy Poe posterior padding (viz junk in trunk) at present. The status quo mutter hoof act honest to dog cross my heart ambition roe bust lee expended to do more than sit on floor. Even slow lee sliding downward muscular flexion quite, a temporary restraining order i.e. TRO figurative and literal stretch.

Nonetheless, this persevering Lake wobegon soul lowered slender body, (when eye attended class) at Yo Yo ma intentional community within Sumneytown, Pennsylvania named Kripalu Yoga Community, where residents adapt macrobiotic diet under too till edge via auspices of cherished founder (Amrit Desai, i.e. Guru Dev).

Before entering sanctified space everybody removed their shoes often (now and again) guests welcome to partake regimen at said rue **** men tree idyllic retreat offering general public an opportunity true lee worth effort to experience this alternative lifestyle.

Though “U” might already be a pro unlike me, who didst barely progress as aye re: view memories toward greater flexibility minimally made one lasting whew benefit constituted of deep breathing asper you dull lies segue-way into light trance intended meditative zooming into mindfulness away from rat race. Even to this day, an effort gets made to set space aside time to transcend cares and concerns trace sing worry lines from uncertain future, and vase a versa if conditions favorable induce lightness – erase sing major concerns of being if perchance, face shill contortion asper body doth trite hoo easy and grace full flowingly, gently, harmoniously, indubitably lace limbs one into another - joyfully, kinesthetically, at comfortable pace.

Ewe experience lambent maneuvering naturally, optimally, peacefully, quietly, surreptitiously, et cetera into deep sleep of a hilly Edenic mirage tenderly controlling inhalation, and exhalation might seem silly, sans breathing hopefully remains sustained.

As a novitiate practitioner with ***** Wonka, this magical, modality (qua zee moat *** modus operandi) regarding, striving toward ultimately vast wrestled xfinity, yielding zestful fling away global concerns all the while grappling dutifully attaining jingling mystical state of consciousness, (perhaps mental experience a king dome all to itself, similarly venerated, vis a vis basically comprehend ping pong per positive phrases analogy, asper anyone who reads and understands this ring gull ling communique) as I attempt to describe mesmerize zing, mindset mosaic explicit words seem da fish hint.

Thus analogous self induce hypnotic cerebral deep minted experience possibly more clear to envision without stinting the reeder. Nonetheless, the conscious, deliberate guided “high” kickstarted courtesy Ujjayi breathing, which tint head breath comprises breathing technique employed in different
variety of Taoist and Yoga practices.

In relational mash mich hug gun flint sparking neurons to ascend Yogic exaltation, where mindset doth glint within casting glowing countenance whispering the ocean breath.

The length and speed of breathing aid did, controlled by diaphragm, strengthening braid did mental fiber which purposefulness of ujjayi without being fanatical, an effort gets made daily meditation teasing envisioned in laid within wafting warm waves (comprising grade “A” leased half hour, but no more than twenty four). If time constraints un war rented ala limited restraints disallow currying pour forth, the course fostering, inducing limned score arching relaxation merely practicing to open a door slow prolonged breathing bonjour can deliver (pizza pie) energizing feel akin to flying like Icarus above urban jungle roar.

I used to trace
your face in every face
and yet could not place
your face at all

in my corporeal world
i used to find
pieces of you
entwined
in lyrics and in phrases

the once clear photograph
that turned mosaic was now
a fragmented work of art
and everyday rips you
further apart

then to meet the original article
to see you with sight
your voice auricular
your fingers tangible
in a fraction you converted
from the surreal to the somatic

you that breathed seemed exhausted
and every gulp of oxygen
seemed to rust your pipes
the ones you galvanized
in alcohol at night
knowing it would increase the rate
your organs would take to depreciate

your zestful pipes were drained of color
punctured perhaps by careless claws
or by your own negligence and flaws
you always loved to tease death
and now you seem to prompt it

"Life" was over
you were passed "Survival"
now it was "Endurance"
a step away from "Existence"

"you" that fueled my memories
has now decayed
so how is it that i still feel
a faint pulse
in that corner of my mind
you still occupy?

If we wanted too?
We could be awesome.
Beautiful
Caring
Delightful
Enchanting
Fabulous
Generous­

If we wanted too.
You must know this and believe this.
If we wanted too?
We could be helpful.
Interesting.
Joyful
Kind
Lovable
Magnificent
Nice
If we try.
It's all on the inside of us.

If we wanted to?
We could be open.
Passionate
Quoted
Romantic
Sensitive
Talented
United
If we wanted too.
All these terms depend on you.

Yes, if we wanted too?
We can be valiant
Wonderful
Youthful
Zestful

Some of these refuse to be.
And that leads to the question of why not?

he searches for a reason
preaching god day after day
one day he meets a person
who took him away
they both talk about meaning
to what the creator laid
the xylographer of the puzzle
looks at thr zestful people play
with creation he shortens their hustle
to adorn the semblance of the solution they lay …

When I can  not direct my body to release
appropriately   I resort to dreams of a handsome
boy, a ******* addict at a motel whose sole purpose
is to please me    and somewhere in the narrative he
falls deeply in love with my zestful spirit,
and so, I embrace him   and I rub against him,
but somewhere here, the whole thing becomes
quite maternal
and I cannot recognize him as the
****** object of my desires
  
that is when I begin to write of him,
the texture of his skin, the ice in his eyes, the veins on his neck,
the girth of his manhood as he
lowers himself unto me and looks at me
desperately as if I am the goddess
that will give him all the riches of earth.