Tag Archives: #love

A Hundred Poems – XXXIV (rev)

A HUNDRED POEMS – XXXIV

Oh, Devastation, such a ravishing sight,
Your beauty leaves me breathless, day and night.
With fluttering lashes, a hypnotic trance,
You pull me deeper into a romantic dance.

Your eyes, like jewels, they shine so bright,
Reflecting my love with pure delight.
Time halts when you’re near, my world fades away,
All I see is you, in every single way.

Oh, love, sweet love, how it blossoms within,
A love so perfect, it feels like sin.

Devastating love, it’s what I desire,
A love that sets my heart and soul on fire.
So love me, darling, with all that you are,
And we’ll journey together, near or far.

:: 08.12.2024 ::


Luminous Reverie

whirling—how
darksome light
whispers(beyond
grasp)but
still more than
twinkling
a sudden flurry of
nights(licking
flames of stars
with
tongues

bitter). a tremble-quick
twilight
hands (a)cross
(a)cross the
howling—
fulgent.
more than
yesterday’s forgotten
dream(a
chase(ing)—glow(ing)
now.

 —tumble, tumble,
        sing! for 
more than nothing, less
than everything—the heart

p o u n d s echo(ing)
soft- hard
grace- rage
it is(was)(is)
only(echo)time
(quivering
pulse-twitch)
reverie.
abrupt.

:: 08.08.2024 ::


WHISPERS OF LOVE ACROSS SEAS

My sweet flower born from a precious sun
My sweet woman

I declare to all tallest mountains
the beauty of love

That all mankind feels when falling in love
you are the one my dear — the seed of passion

Oh, tonight the winds are singing across seas
ships who have sailed afar carry within sails
your words of whsipering adorn within sailor’s
hearts and tears of joy

In the deep folds of the earth
where shadows weave,

Your presence blooms like a hidden sun,
Illuminating the silence of the night,

A beacon where my heart, lost, is found.
In dreams, I drift among your celestial whispers,

Where every murmur becomes a symphony,
In your gaze, the cosmos stirs,
Two souls entwined, a dance of the eternal.

Under the moon’s caress, our hearts merge,
As rivers murmur tales of our unity,
Your voice, a hymn of ancient stars,
Flows through the fabric of time, tender and unyielding.

Let each sunrise and sunset echo our passion,
A love that traverses the bounds of days,
Where every tempest and calm we conquer,
Bound by a love that defies even the universe’s rhyme

:: 08.07.2024 ::


dysmetropsia

THERE must be a feeling
that feels real
SOMETIMES sadness
is a purple color
at times sometimes
i’m surreal ~~ wondering
why i’m alive / don’t forget
where i’m at : never forget
where I am at : painting,
writing, playing guitar,
eating strawberries,
growing deep inside
forgetting time | Relativity,
never forgetting Time
it’s like the moon \ falls
around me / it’s like you
desert ring _
loving you.


THE WORLD MOVES

THE WORLD moves and does in mysterious ways
as the thighs of a lover moving closer
breathing and touching, both awakening
the senses of the other.

How the quiet
night speaks, with low voice and rich
with leaves and moss and soil. The scents
of nature is between thighs. Both man
and woman. At all times whether in a bus,
or sidewalk, or riding a bicycle we exude
the scent of our animal nature. We are
the city of our Nature, the Empire. A tall
building of soft scaffolding mylon-foam
caught deeply within our throat and heart.

Appear as Mother, sweet and kind
On pasta, butter, and potatoes dine
The bee lady swims, unconfined
For those with wit not yet refined

Soup and cream, your frame bestow
The final word, you proclaim
Though plump, in splendor you will glow
Sublime and grand, you’ll earn your name.

:: 06.25.2024 ::


Your Touch

AS LOVE LIKE a flower
i look at you ~~
in a beautiful frame

SuN at Noon Never burns me
less lungs breathing
whO perfectly whO
is the winner / i saw an angel
and your touch made me cry
in this destructive world

and it strived for my heart
and it revived my head and heart

so I must be dreaMing b’cause i
don’t belong here ~~

i’m newly alOne it is
so special / dreamest

oNLY THE SuN burns o
VER BeauTI FUL ones
screaming SPIR
it

I was down in the dirt
and my head was in dirt
i tried to say

I tried say …
tried to say ~~~
tried to say __

it’s in our heads.

:: 06.09.2024 ::


God is a Lonely Child

AFTER I finish my statement
as confessed I, my fear:
if you should ever leave me
i know we love each other very dearly
,more
than tears from clouds and how they
need sunbeams and then they make
Mayflowers in Spring

          my breath of gentle touch

how the heavy Moon is twilights’first
thrushes may awake a pleasant country
and awake some world)selves

                .La. da. Da Da Dada da

(how i would live without you in madness
or in mere death or both who is la guerre)
you could simply me. darling

    how precious this point 

of creative never known
how unspoken words were feeling
before words before the moon
before God wished Himself into a Father

and then even<
we love and crave smiles and hugs
and immemorial of whos and hows
and whens )
before
how each Soul and heartbeat touches me
which I kiss.

:: 06.05.2024 ::


Biological Machine Brain

AFTER I finish this poem and all
the alphabets are in bed

you can walk with me down the hill
where the stream is, lady
where fish dream they are stars

(now this blows my mind — but
there they are)

Looking within their eyes with a
suddenly unsaid voice they spoke
while smoking mexican grass

And the toads croak lightly
singing, “Run upon the stones
across our river”

I ran and stepped across all
the stones and crevasses
and I found myself upon the Mountain

And there came a poetess who sang,
“Come, hold my hand, along brittle
treacherous bright streets
of memory — ooh, come my heart,
you idiot, yealing like a drunken man!

We can be asleep, elsewhere our dreams begin
run upon my stones:

Ici? Ah non. Mon chéri, il fait trop froid.
I say again, “Here? Oh no. My drear, it is
too cold!”

The farm is in ice so Chevaux do bois!

:: 06.05.2024 ::


I’m Sane

[these dreams. terrors. m.c.escher floor plans i cannot escape. a world mall with creatures.]

Tremors become my failed hands. No blue skies nor blue oceans. Just a mad man lost in institutions ~~

and i’m sorry to write these words that seem to crawl within my shut eyes. So pray, so say, the whore of life is a drink of horror not for good guys not for bad guys. I’m ruined. If you could cry — i know, tear ducts were torn out in the last horror dream ~~ i[‘m sick. These experiments are based inside my dreams were meant to be a savior like Jesus but when I found my portal (through it all) I now cry. Life. death. People. Earth. Is a dream like a drink of potent monsters that humanity should never know. So, please. Continue to shut your eyes.

What if the the sickest mind was the most healthy reflection of this existence?

So, say…

the hardest part of letting go is the monsters of those who control everything.

And sing. Sing. Just say, ‘The hardest Part is I’m Sane.”

:: 05.22.2024 ::

My notes:

I approach the analysis of this poem with a deep appreciation for its raw emotional depth and existential questioning.

The poem “I’M SANE” delves into the tumultuous landscape of the human psyche, grappling with themes of sanity, madness, and the blurred boundaries between reality and dreams. The fragmented structure of the poem mirrors the fragmented state of the speaker’s mind, as they navigate through a surreal dreamscape filled with terrors and nightmarish imagery reminiscent of M.C. Escher’s intricate designs.

The recurring motif of madness pervades the poem, symbolized by the speaker’s trembling hands and their confinement within institutions. This portrayal of madness as an inescapable prison reflects a sense of helplessness and despair.

The speaker’s apologies for the unsettling nature of their words suggest a struggle with self-awareness and a fear of being judged or misunderstood. The mention of tear ducts torn out in a horror dream adds a visceral element to the poem, emphasizing the physical and emotional toll of the speaker’s inner turmoil.

The juxtaposition of life and death, salvation and damnation, further underscores the poem’s existential angst. The speaker grapples with the idea that perhaps the sickest mind is the most lucid reflection of reality—a disturbing thought that challenges conventional notions of sanity and madness.

The refrain “The hardest Part is I’m Sane” serves as a haunting conclusion to the poem, encapsulating the paradoxical nature of sanity in a world overrun by chaos and existential dread. It suggests a poignant resignation to the harsh truths of existence, where sanity itself becomes a burden to bear amidst the madness of life.

In essence, “I’M SANE” is a profound exploration of the human condition, offering a glimpse into the dark recesses of the mind and inviting readers to confront the unsettling truths that lie therein.


Oh What a Day

Oh, what a day
What a time
little man
(so in a rush
for important
thoughts)
so we can maybe
forget ~~~
listen:

wait

Nothing before
Nothing after

And lost that
f e e l i n g
(little child
who have tried
who have failed
who have attempted
but cried)

tripped

big lies
big faces
big excuses
big babies
big tears
(like you loved,
loved, like a love
you never find
anyday — oh
us)

:: 05/13/2024 ::