i would sink if the moon left these shores! picture of myself,
bright floods! seeking shadowed roads. Of yellow and green
cellophane hearts – into the willows of an old courtyard.
O my dying quiet hearts of arts and wordsof black dog,
brown shepherd hungry formasters -bitter peaches upon the ground :
while sulfur and evil drown in shallow swims.
Oh but Lord! through amaranths and Sahara bluesas fire and creepers
seep through the widow’s cage! i walked Guianan without shoes
and flew throughthe ducal window on such a moonlight as the blessed bindweed.
Across ages of time and hordes cross our agedEurope.
Every soul crosses the moors -all warriors!
Warrior Of Amaranth Nights
A New Math A New Love
love is heaven,
a math equation we can’t solve
with pupils dilated
we reach for poison apples
knowing death is the cost
but still we love
the pain it brings
the sweet and sour
like a symphony
of broken strings
we dance in the darkness
of our own design
and though we know the ending
we still embrace the divine
for love is not rational
nor meant to be tamed
it’s a wild and reckless force
that leaves us forever changed
so let us live and love
with all our hearts and souls
for even in the pain and loss
we’ll find the beauty that makes us whole.
:: 03.19.2023 ::
The Forest’s Beauty
In the forest glade, the faun roams,
A creature of grace and beauty unknown.
His forehead crowned with nature’s gems,
His eyes like spheres, precious and unknown.
With cheeks stained by wine and revelry,
His fangs gleam, his chest a lyre in motion,
The sound of music between his arms,
His heart beating with wild emotion.
In the darkness of night, he moves,
His thighs and legs like a rhythmic dance,
The forest alive with his presence,
A creature of magic and mystic trance.
The faun, a creature of ancient lore,
A symbol of nature’s beauty and power,
A reminder of the wild within us all,
A call to embrace our true selves, every hour.
:: 03.19.2023 ::
When Lennon Died
sleeping dreaming
waking waking
speaking how they run
from Light
I’m sitting upon a clover
with 4 leafs — and i heard
I am the Walrus by Beatles
I’m crying
Dead yellow postman with
a letter from Lennon
he wrote it before he was
shot dead — we are walrus
It’s expert text-men
exploring futures government
and religion are egg – men
they cough | what do we do
when love is away? At the
end of the day we’re on our own
and we get help from our friends
Do you need anybody?
could it be anybody?
Somebody to love.
do you need anybody?
Just body to love
and i get by with
my friends
with a little help
from my friends!
:: 923,16,2923LL
Jazz Club
In the smoky jazz club at night,
I hear the sound of my guitar.
Its strings come alive in the light,
Guiding me near and far.
Playing for the masses in the room,
But my heart beats only for you.
Our love is like a jazz tune,
Sweet and soulful, tried and true.
Oh, no, not that again,
Love rears its head once more.
But I’ll play through the pain,
And let my guitar do the score.
After gigs, I come home alone,
But my guitar keeps me company.
It’s the only love I’ve ever known,
And it’s always faithful to me.
They say love is a flower,
Beautiful and buried deep.
But for me, it’s the power
Of my guitar, my love to keep.
Oh, well, I’ll keep on dreaming,
Of a love that’s sweet and true.
And while my guitar keeps beaming,
I’ll keep on playing for you.
Love may be a punch in the heart,
But my guitar helps me through.
With its soulful jazz art,
I’ll keep on loving, just like I do.
Jaguar
and the man ate her
the jaguar between her legs
a beast heavy upon her stomach.
Licking and smelling
tasting Life
Became then the man
deep inside her thoughts
forgiving pain for pleasure
for higher heaven
Came the angel
fighting the human
Lovers entwined.
:: 03.17.2023 ::
A Hundred Poems XLV
and what of that desire
a pouring rain, from the heavens,
fall through funneled skies —
a splatter upon my roof
slanted tiles /\/\/_stacked.
Yet, another journey in the fall
; the figural shaped as my heart
& tears seep into me that
ground of my spirit
a | split
thunder-lightning: show my face
from celestial eyes came tears
as an arrow –>– my own eyes
which are that target
your tears pierced into
of countryside haven
to find a home
within my lonely soul
i kiss the tears
that bare your fire.
:: 04-09-2014 ::
A HUNDRED POEMS – LXXV
WHAT fear that burns!
That all the eye can see
a morning bird upon a tree
such burning truth, that melody!
Sweeping morning clear the night
erasing visage of thick-white fog
and the mortal souls that fought
who is now lost within last night
upon this beautiful day
if mourning light i remember.
:: 06-13-2014 ::
A HUNDRED POEMS – XXXVI
NATURE decrees the natural course
of life’s season of repose,
between the first light of sunrise
and the fullness of maturity that grows.
A role that scorns the youthfulness
of life, and extracts a toll,
not on the spirit, but the flesh,
as we strive to attain our goal.
And yet, in this period of calm,
when the world seems to take a breath,
there’s a chance to reflect and renew,
to gather our strength and move ahead.
For the stillness of nature speaks volumes,
and in its silence, we can hear
the whisper of our own soul’s calling,
guiding us through the coming year.
So let us embrace this season of pause,
let us honor the wisdom it brings,
as we prepare for the new day to dawn,
and the cycle of life begins again.
revised: 02.26.2023 ::
Light My Cigarette While I Cut my Wrists
And absolutely maybe if wings flew
without a bird’s body and the air lifted ground
as outer space filled inner spirits!
then all things might be
equal and if so then what?
Zero.
Which is arguably a ‘something’
less than 1 but greater than less than zero.
Words.
The devil’s insidious plot to madden the human mind with
intangible monsters that chip away at the glass floor we
all ignore and rarely look down upon
we might see the super-structure of reality then.
What then?
HORROR.
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