Tag Archives: #life

As I LaY MYSeLF TO SLeeP I PRAY THE LORD MYSeLF TO KeeP

AS I LAY MYSELF TO SLEEP
I PRAY THE LORD MYSELF TO KEEP

go to sleep little one
go to hell where there’s no prayers
go to heaven where no one hears you

Exit –> life
ENTER –> eternity
(we walk alone)

I TUCKED YOU INTO SOFT ETERNAL SLEEP

be in the never-never land
be in a dream so deep
be – come a shadow of yourself
(i walk alone)

ESCAPE –> self
ENTER –> recycle

One eye open
One eye closed
One night fades, forgotten, decomposed
(my shadow my only friend)

go to sleep little one
go to the place where time dissolves
go to the silence where all resolves

EXIT –> fear
ENTER –> forever
(love always beside me)

:: 09.19.2024 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – LXXXVI

MY LETTER TO YOU

Dear, speak not of the storm that weeps in feelings deep,
The butterfly endures the deluge, the fire’s keep.
What flower doth bloom in dreams, serene,

life burns a fire in souls
never forgiving good deeds

In visions, still, where worlds convene
A burning bush, its flames, they soothe,
Embracing souls, in passion’s truth

seeking for a heart of gold
and we’re getting old

I dined upon your essence, pure,
Touched the soul, a love so sure
In ships of dreams, I sailed the night,

how i’ve sailed the ocean
been to hollywood
and now getting old

Fell into love’s soft, endless light
You, my golden molten grace,
In your love, I find my place

lived in Jean Lafitte’s house in the 70s
and walked the wood he lived
a house now burned down

Time’s eternal clock winds not astray,
I’m yours, in love’s unending sway.
Once upon time’s delicate thread I soared,

Through space, my wishes, like stardust, poured.
Wayward, I carried dreams in flight,
Masked wisdom, veiled in the night.

In the cacophony of life’s design,
I became words, where voices entwine.
Those who loathed what I conveyed,

I devoured, their echoes frayed.
In the tapestry of spoken song,
I found my voice, where I belong.

:: /\ ::


A Morning Delightful

Awake! My eyes—
opened to you, casting off sleep,
to find heaven nestled beside me.
Oh, what grace, what gentle skin!
An angel’s presence in soft repose.

I never dreamed to witness
what my mind dared not conceive,
yet here you are—so real,
with lips still kissed by slumber’s breath.

I am smaller now, a speck,
before the vastness of your beauty.
Surely, I fell through a rift in heaven’s sky
to land here,
where you sleep, where you snore,
so perfectly angelic.

:: 09.17.2024 ::


Time and Love Remains A Romantic Reflection

If I love, what am I, but shadow and flame,
A mirror that flickers, that calls my name?
Does love remake me, or unveil what’s been,
The light that’s hidden, or the darkness within?

In the soil, I kneel, where thorns entwine,
The earth beneath me, both cruel and divine.
I crawl through the dirt, stained by the fight,
Yet still I rise toward love’s steady light.

What is real, must I remember it all—
The good, the evil, the rise, and the fall?
To uncover truth is to bear its weight,
The joy and the sorrow that time won’t abate.

The hands that I’ve helped, the wounds I have known,
The shadows of others have marked my own.
For every soul that gave, and each that took,
I am both victim and thief in this book.

Pulling at thorns, the pain won’t release,
Love persists, though suffering won’t cease.
Perhaps I am someone else—someone changed,
Yet you, like the sky, remain unrestrained.

In the light and shadows of those I recall,
I gave them everything, but lost it all.
And still, I seek redemption, not in the past,
But in the love that endures, that might last.

So, I’ll love all, in spite of the pain,
For in love’s embrace, I’ll find myself again.
Through the struggle, the shadows, the wounds, the fall,
I’ll rise, like the dawn, and love will remain through all.

:: 09.17.2024 ::


HIGH-WIRE ARTIST

The heartbeat’s too faint—
I tried to skip
down the boardwalk path,

the corner of my carnival eye glossed,
where pinks and reds
bled into blue,
and a thin blade of sadness
sliced through the ocean waves

I saw you drowning
in your carnival suit of cheap life.
Did you hear me call?
I shouted, “One more smile for life!”
But the pudding seas swallowed you whole

Now I walk the high-wire,
this tightrope called falling life,
teetering between the sky
and the abyss below

I felt the wind breathe
its quiet warning,
as the rope trembled beneath my feet,
each step a gamble
against the pull of gravity—
yet the crowd cheers for the fall

The sky grows dim;
night becomes my silent audience.
With each sway, I wonder—
is it courage that keeps me walking,
or the fear of what waits
below the safety net?

:: 09.14.2024 ::


THE HOURGLASS VOMITS DREAMS

I born.
mouth full of dirt,
crowned with worms,
called ugly
by a sky that bleeds clocks.
I begged the wind for mercy,
for the crime of breathing,
and love—love hid itself
beneath the rotting leaves.

KEEP YOUR DREAMS HIDDEN
(never
spill them)
like marbles
into the hands of ghosts—
their fingers rot,
their eyes burn holes
through time itself.

and the ears,
dry as desert bones,
curl inward
like paper shriveling in fire.

the tongues twist into serpents
and vomit
not words, but sand—
millions of grains
in an hourglass that spins,
spiraling faster, faster,
dissolving the moon’s reflection.

time is not a thief.
it is a snake devouring itself,
until the night becomes a shadow’s shadow,
bleeding stars.
aborted dreams
are all that’s left,
tangled in the sky’s black veins.


A KISS FROM BEYOND THE GRAVE

WHEN delirious dreams, full of fever, etch across my forehead

communication with ghosts and effervescent spirits 

become the mainstream news within the veins of life

Now my senses are dull ~ delirium is the frosting a top dessert

and my skull is delicate, and enticing for fingers.

While dreaming (is what this brain does) i see a workshop

with a child in a baby seat bathing blue air in a mass of flowers

and its hair is flowing overdrive where dew falls

but in my mind (here we go) a taste a pungent honey 

and my lips dissolve with hissing interruptions, saliva

wishing it had one more kiss from Emily Dickinson

i hear lashes softly strike

Within the scented air—

And fingers, fine as lightning’s flash,

Do secrets swift declare—

In languid ease, i half forget

The world in murmurs small—

While ‘neath their regal nails there snaps

The hum of creatures small.

here’s to the wine (of sloth rising

in him) the breath the sigh of a harmonica (tuned to delirium)

and a child (who knows)

each slow caress— surging dying

continuously like

some small longing

to weep (to weep and never know why)

:: 09.12.2024 ::


In the Cavern of My Soul

In the quiet depths of my soul’s cavern,
I find my heart, tender and true,

When I breathe, as soft as whispers on stone,
I mean to say, “I love you.”

You’ve woven me into the fabric of time,
And if ever your spirit falters, Know I cradled
your heart in a gentle embrace,
Just to keep your joy alive.

Now, with eyes wide open, you embrace life,
And see that love and sorrow dance as one,
For to truly be happy, we must face the shadows,
And find beauty in the dark.

And if ever you bleed with the weight of the world,
Watching life’s essence flow from your veins,
Know that in this moment of pure vulnerability,
Hope breathes alongside your pain.

In this love, nothing else exists,
For our minds, clouded by the depths of feeling,
Cannot see beyond the truth of us.

There’s no need to return to who we once were,
For love has transformed us, And in each other,
we find the selves we never knew.

:: 08.31.2024 ::


IF I CUT MYSELF

Inside my cave i find my heart

if i say a breath stalagmite

i mean i love you

and you closed me in history

and if you hurt yourself

know i kept you in a jar

just to keep you happy

and now you really love life

and clearly you see horror

to be happy horror meets you

including life

And if you cut yourself

and watch life flow

breathing hope

nothing else matters

minds can’t see clearly

There’s no reason to go back

because I was a different person

and now no one i know

:: 08.31.2024 ::


UNBORN WORDS

My words are children—born complete—
Or wanting—limbs—or Hearts—
Unyielding—though the form may lack—
Their Life—by Art—imparted—

A Soul’s embrace—a Painter’s hand—
Or Poem’s—whispered Breath—
Each speaks—unto the Giver—
Dances in the Shadow’s path—

They Echo—through the empty Hall—
In every silent Room—
Each syllable—a living pulse—
A Language to the Tomb—

:: Rev – 08.21.2024 ::