Monthly Archives: August 2017

IF LOVE TOOK ME

IF love took me
take me my love
when breathing is
you breathing with me
and life is at
it’s most loving.

And nighttime:
my hand upon your
breast keeps time
as an arm of the hour
stealing moments
within our dark.

As jaws of Cupid open
my priest of pain
begins to sing:
“Ruby heart, padlocks
and all, deployed by
angels smiling
thunderbolt-lust;
and i, too frail.”

Drowning in wishing-
like sea swells
like if love took me
take me my love
across the night
into the dews, and the
‘give me everything
i wish/give me everything
i love/where life is at
it’s most loving.

:: 08-27-2017 ::

 


STEEPLE’D TEARS

Then a little, my bit of space.  That my heart is the boundless country
with open joy and mind, you are a tallest  roof with steeple’d tears.
The taste, bring me sweet my love and salt.  No wounds but healing thoughts.
   Love you you love
   You kiss kiss you
We hug.
Laugh and sleep to awaken again
   Together as always as together.
Us.
:: 08-23-2017 ::

THE SINCEREST LIAR

MY mind (because it taught me) loves me

Who minds when lies are sugar coated

Within all my ruin it called me lovely

I never begged for mercy when my face

turned blue

because the most sincerest liar is the

\mind/
+

Laughing with a straight jacket on

for dinner as a bug within my ear

said it all;  no one has a choice

but to accept free will so we all

sing along, “oh eh oh eh where’d

I ever go wrong?”

:: 08-20-2017 ::


THE LEAST FAVORITE THINGS

That within my hands
are the crumbled lives
of ghosts who have passed
me by
And when like a wounded demon
that begs so perfectly saying
all the lies I wish were true
These are the least favorite things
I find within my life

When the world closes its eyes
and love moves away like a train
from purgatory’s station
When like a sentenced soul
the judge turns away from shame
then my life has been
but a sweet memory
and the most wonderful
pain of all…

:: 08-19-2017 ::


FORMLESS SOMETHING

Immaterial – formless;
the imbued by Spirit
and body is more!
That patterns determine
rain, snail and flower
and more by zero
but most by Soul!
And innumerable
Infinities that come
and go!

:: 08-17-2017 ::


BORN AN OLD AGE

Born of an old age
with much to unlearn
the summers heat,
such cold breeze:
a palace
the walls
A moat that swallows
the glee, screams
and all
And into that ire
upon a flava low
Burning memories go
I know I know now
what youth means;
the long gestation
until we’re born
And be!

:: 08-13-2017 ::