Category Archives: #poetess

IF YOU

I F y o u go back to school give me your love — teach me
touch/ how electricity or god was invented by your hands (
subdued by the hand of an angel and buried eye)
LOVE: phenomena is such
being, conducted by a worthy Love
You’ve been cooling — fooling and mis-
using philosophy strictly within
the deep inside and slender/fragile
loooooooovvvvvvvve —————-
i imitate your beauty so shake
for me girl/ ooooooh expressing
oh oh oh oh (come on) i borrow a deep
mask learning and so fragile i borrow
way deep inside // sensations\
imiatating fatally exquisite < pulling
my skin carefully around it)
streamin down your face my dreams
love” — prettified. I give every inch
of my love – an awful big light squoits
down my spine way down inside: i am
dead er sumpn: next i
ah ah ah – ah ah ah —
shake for me girl/ down oh up sideways
oooooooooooooooh — some female within
the green field each fore crows drop into
sunset.

:: 09.28.2020 ::


MANY TIMES, MORE THAN TWICE

MANY times, more than twice have I seen the ghosts of family, friends and then some whose faces that I did not know.
Quaintly, with ethereal elegance they are silky touch, feather breath, and opal eye, outside of the tick-tock of father time. It is most inappropriate to ask of them to state their business or intended pleasure
extend your politeness over scorn I say. But if I may make a brief apparatus is there a paper in the room, a hall-cabinet or a desk on which a white sheet is available? Might I do with the sheet as a summons?
The respect that one owes one’s guests becomes tested with boredom, oft times probed with practicality of thrift for there is nothing useful to be erected in the holder of the sheet.
Only when it is needful to be done is the one supposed to write in it. The space for writing is too limited.
Must the words be in black to be read? Must they belong to make any good or neither would it do to pay homage to the white sheets anymore? Might I pour out some ink, some thread to fashion myself a gnomon of sorts. Searching the paper to be free from ink might I try another opal eye, like my mother and the razors my grandfather used?
To groom his hair, and his kinks, each time they wore them down, but never ending. Might I even fawn over a ghost. Might I shed a tear for no other reason than it would be distasteful, and uncivil, to not do so. The wrong that is done to ghosts, which is, who has time for them when there is death’s work that need be done?
It is said the uncle, being thin, frail with a rasping voice, would sit silent and tired; sleep nearly all day, never greeting the other relatives, as the family has dwindled to once, two at most.
That he would be found some hours before sunset, with no water and no food beside his dead little cousin. Who was his spitting image when his lips would open he would tarry another moment?
Recline again, only to open them and wander the empty halls, awaiting. Someone who could help him with his chores, is the scene I imagine. A half asleep and suffering ghost who will never rest as long as
he continues to obey the order of his keeper, waiting until someone pays his due respect.
Now the spirit, like some phantom to the nighthawks of the wind and the greens of the apple trees.
He moves as lightly as the wind.
He dances like the light of an airplane.
He looks to live yet again.
In a white sheet, with a black script which could read nothing.

:: 09.26.2020 ::
/maj. Rev.\


THE KING OF ROCK & SAND

we have had many hard things so far we’ll have harder times yet to come
it has been a hard year and we are too young to have had so many hard times
there is nothing else that this world ever gave us at least not this year
you taught us not to give things from this Earth
that will rob us of our precious time
You left this Earth without trusting
you left this Earth without giving to those who need
your light; that you held in your hands
unlike anything or anyone we may know on this Earth
there’s not anything on this Earth/ so special
so dear that was you. you could not live on this Earth
so like a human even when you are dead
you live forever in our hearts
you live forever in our souls
for who else in this world can we hold on to forever
we have you
we have your light
you are! we are the millions who followed you
who laid down their lives and you could not carry
the great weight. you carried so we did not have to
one day we will learn to carry this great burden
no human can carry this great weight
there’s only one who can
And now we can
What OF God?
How come?
When can I see you?
When will I see you?
why don’t you leave me alone?

Leave me alone?
You’ve been with me for ever, in my bad times,
in my good times, when there was no way out
and no one to understand the way you could see
in a million hands held
The King of Glory.

I guess you’re going to have to leave me now
if you’re going to come back
I guess you’re going to have to leave me alone
when you say my life will not end
this time…
So do you see?
How can I see the King of Glory?
Well, if I were to fall into Hell
and be the first to greet the King
then, I’m sure I would find you
But I don’t want to go to Hell
I have never been to Hell
It’s not like I’m afraid of Hell
I’m afraid of living without you
without the comfort of your embrace
or at least the touch of your hands
or the warmth of your smile
or the sound of your voice
or even your kiss
no, I don’t like the smell of Hell
the sky is always clear
and green
and it looks so pretty
when it’s sunny
no, I don’t want to go to Hell
I don’t want to be the first
to greet the King
I just want to be with you
in Heaven…

:: 2020 .24.2020 ::


WHAT DOES ANY LIVING THING WISH FOR?

IF i see you next to never
  that hour is mine
for ever that it takes,
thinking, burying thoughts
that spring forth in soil
by long fields of tulips.
  at times i get up late
other times early while
i untangle time within
my lost mind — the golden
gulp of sadness swallowed.
  my rage is sad smoothing
the waves of all oceans.
my thin body stretched
towards the sky.
 helicopter petals of
all brilliant colors
swirl upon my head;
at these times no less
than happy hours of bliss
and kisses.
    there is no reason for
love other than love.
it has been the best merger
of words and emotions
scarcely beginning upon your
lips.

:: 09.19.2020 ::


IF I AM SURE AS I AM

IF you asked me to use your love
tonight by sunlight or by fallen
night, i could not do so;
while my flesh is hungry for you
my Soul and Mind respects the
Light of your Heart.
and as your breasts heave
with lust, i cannot forsaken
the trust i have with my own
heart.

If by nocturnal influence,
the strongest of ferocious urge,
my gaze upon your tender twin legs,
(i mount and mouth in bites the moist
stars of your two eyes)
While my manly chest presses against
your tender female heart; for the ocean
and for the sun’s depth — all of you
is destined for the plow.
i do not shy away but respect
you. when you have come up for air
we shall talk. Until then, my amorous one,
the moon’s tender light ignites your large
expecting eyes.

:: 09.19.2020 ::


NOW YOU KNOW

i look within the mirror (things are not looking good)
a mind of a man; a soul of a woman: when my dreams
stretch out love surrenders.
My body, savaged by pain (i am as a peasant)
undermines Love.
— makes romantic spirits
leap into the bottom of a
deep chasm of Earth.
The soul can never get old a marching army of night
invaded me as a weapon; but as i breath i repel
the hordes with my heat
i sought a woman so strong
, intelligent and soft: a body of skin, of fire,
of firm and thirsty milk!
i hold her bountiful breasts ! and hug warm and womanhood.
still i feel i am sinking:
so now you know. my thirst and desire for woman without
end — a wavering tight road!
so now. I know there are cemeteries so lonely, for my kind.
Dead bones that do not move. but all dead and
living hearts move through a tunnel!

:: 09.09.2020 ::


NOW YOU KNOW

i look within the mirror     (things are not looking good)
a mind of a man;  a soul of    a woman:  when my dreams
stretch out love surrenders.    
My body, savaged by pain   (i am as a peasant)
undermines Love.
  — makes romantic spirits
leap into the bottom of a
deep chasm of Earth.
   The soul can never get old    a marching army of night
invaded me as a weapon; but as i breath i repel
the hordes with my heat
i sought a woman so strong
,      intelligent and soft: a body of skin, of fire,
of firm and thirsty milk!    
i hold her bountiful breasts  ! and hug warm and womanhood.
   still i feel i am sinking:
   so now you know.  my thirst  and desire for woman without
end — a wavering tight road!
   so now.  I know there are cemeteries so lonely, for my kind.  
   Dead bones that do not move.  but all dead and
   living hearts move through a tunnel!

:: 09.09.2020 ::


I LOVE YOU

WORDS of love — so maybe dear
tell me how you feel: hmm
hmm oh like poems; colors
bleed into rainbows watching
humans watching them
So dear allow me to hear
the words i want you to say
oh words are love and soft
(darling: i love you)
hmm hmm oh hmm yeah
now hold me close and tell me
love is real.

:: 09.08.2020 ::


GLIDING BLUE WHALE

we can walk upon the house
through closed doors
across the kitchen without
making sound —
we can walk across the moon
leave trash and mark our
print as humanity like we do
all from reliable heat
of the academic thoughts of
ego — knives and guns reproduce
the fever:
a giant step we take
breaking legs.
so troubled with sex appeal which
media mentions and corresponds so
wonderfully — oh beautiful blue
whales:  that glide effortless
as an early fever in early
odic enchantment/keep it up/
oh oh\ keep it up / within the
deepest creases of human-animal
minds.

:: 08.22.2020 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – XVII

the heart expand to the left
it demanded space to grow
lilies of my fields
sprout and bloom in sunlight
fed you blossom and color
in the dark night: hypnotized
musical words
nurtured from \ little poems
thus i am human \
skin from dust
below your stem
that is where —
one-day i shall go
soon one day
and my soul
be your bed

:: 03-26-2014 ::
rev: 07.26.2020b 08112020