Tag Archives: #pain

A HUNDRED POEMS – WHITE SPACE DETOURS

I ride the path by mouth – a trillion bottles of water —
parched lips: and nothing more! Give me you love; oh
i need that thing so bad.

The pen is dried and tears have taken a road by south.
dusty road of youth and hunger for passion.

Who should feed those vagrant words? They starve at day
and flee by night! And detours, forked by white Spaces
and pregnant pauses give birth as too tiny doubts upon my ink!

Ah baby you’re driving me mad. So give me your love.

I watched the children drown there. Within possibility.

A fountain in the square of town is where I dip my quill,
and the Crier shouts,

“Oyez, Oyez, Oyez!”

Remember all the good souls!

Oh give me your love.

:: 08-23-2014 ::
::tiny revisions::


THE LEVIATHAN

i’ll love you till death e’en if i’ll live
i’ll love you till death e’en if I shall live
i’ll love you till death e’en if I shall live!

for you love i do ill rise
in an age when man & flames for his beauty
shuns that proud bronze that shadows you

youth has no stage no eloquent maw
to convert his heart but alas magnifies you
doesn’t present him as you imagine

love unadorned and manifests no star
n’t be overshadowed by you or the splendors of the sky
but display your lord on the moon
— love! my god you as a match or more
smoke, flame, flame, flame that nourishes your passion
flame that is here as a key!

numb or subdued: you become such a monster
that they call you leviathan have i for you heart
and i do not anybody else’s heart.

I did not pledge your hand
I did not set the seal love is the best I have
one kind is different that which burns one’s heart

there is a fire where love burns a fire
and their fire is sweeter than mine

my love!

:: 05.19.2021 ::


RELIGIONS AND HYPOCRISY

DROPPING from the sky as a rain drop
i feel so good dropping from my life
i feel so very alive and the skies weep
and my soul sings.

i don’t believe in your religions or hypocrisy
and i feel like a drop of pure rain
my Soul is bare

falling down into the soil & feeding a new
seed of a flower and i feel so good —
oh yeah.

Don’t take my photo until i’m born
and i don’t believe in your sanctitude
i don’t believe in your lies
and wonder what my parents think of
me now

To give a Soul for a Flower
A soul for a flower
yea.

:: 05.11.2021 ::


SUN AGAINST THE NIGHT

The nasty dark night ate the sun!

The farmers wailed against the dim moon,

“Be sane, or make it otherwise!”

Yesterday i awoke with a torn brain

against lover’s thousand acidic eyes

ripped apart by dying beds.

My screaming wish held but just Ourselves–
and Immortality.

:: 12.21.2020 ::


REFLECTION OF LOVE

As my sensational sensual moments bleed away and are no more seen by the vilest minds
my face deep within the riches of Earth’s soil away from unthought wars!
Unburdened by high wilt of human rine–
as pure Love has championed over darkly love.

And smallest voices as new born children spiritually cries of Spring keeping new born
butterflies afloat, is where Love strives
as droll god-beasts!

Such is the dance of perception as a reflection
through a prism; or early morning dew drop.

Time that not be for us — as purple roses
are sweeter to the but for me: deeper!

:: 12.21.2020 ::


THE WOMAN

SHE can bring love with her smile and devastation with indifference
and ruin faith with the turn of her face;

SHE can bring paradise with her arms and paint masterpieces with her lips
and only reveal what she wishes you to see

SHE can bring passion to your life or steal the meaning of all things
breath the deep blue skies and bring a perfect day

Oh, mystery is beneath her footfalls and how her dress bellows while she
never gives out or gives in — she just changes her mind while promising
the Garden of Eden

So love i followed every motion of your emotion as you took care of yourself
and waiting as you want — ooh, she never gives in while singing angelic songs
and cuts you while you bleed

Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm.

She just changes her mind while so kind does anything but gives hope to the lesser
Souls who ache for Love.

:: 12.21.2020 ::


BLACK CLOUD

The same black cloud that rested over the field the morning after the mower put out the haystack floated over the tops of the silver-trees on the edges of the rose-garden. Through the silver-trees it turned slowly, lowering itself to the ground; and, coming to rest, settled again on the rose-bush, and raised itself high into the air to sniff the atmosphere. I should perhaps seem to be speaking about two roses; but they are not. The two roses I have in mind are of the same kind, but not to be compared. The one is a white rose that came out of a grey-green pot that lay for seven years in a drawer, which probably no one noticed or cared about. Its title is new, unknown, to many, and cruel; and its smell is not the smell of any known rose, nor of any olfactory attraction.

The other is a tall, straight, dark-red rose with a peculiar odor; but which is still admired by young men for its beauty, and in the old age of some is planted in the centre of their friendship gardens as a memorial of a lost love. Both are rare, and will always be rare; but the dark-red rose of the shadow of its twin is a seedling of an old rose, and nothing of its own. It stands tall, straight, and, in old age, very angular in the clover-field, in the darkness of its own cottage garden. Though it has lost all its fragrance, and every leaf of its branches is a stark white, it can still present a pair of great dark, shadowy leaves to a tender, young heart, whose troubles it used to inspire with its peculiar sweet perfume. That is its own, and it can never gain its other title.

It is a rose which grows alone, with one thing its sole delight:–the memory of a lover.

Next morning, in the garden, after breakfast, and after I had written a letter which I had forgotten to write the night before, I stepped back from the garden-wall, and looked over it, with its rose-garden lying before me.

The same, overhung, dull light as had filled it the night before lay thick upon the field, and sank, in the distance, through the silver-trees into the water of the stream. I could not see the water, or the island, but I knew that there would be no change. The earth and air were as heavy and thick as before; and there was no desire or intent to move or to stir; the nature of things had not altered.

The same cloud lay over the field and the island, and seemed to pass with the shadow, in the nearer atmosphere, over the path and over the garden wall, as it had before. I could hear nothing of human life; only I knew, all the same, that people walked in the distant streets of the town to and fro; the hollow claps of the shoes, the speaking, snatches of words, the idle voices of men and women at their workplaces–all these had ceased to catch my ear, and the silence that they engendered closed upon me; and I went back again to the only object which my eyes could make out in the darkness. The night before I had noted the footprints of the man who had cut the hay from the field the day before. He had put them carefully in a nameless direction, in the hope that it would be the path of the threshing-machine. I saw that he had only tried to follow the track that he had made; and, instead of going round the field, he had gone straight across it. That was all!

:: 11.08.2020 ::


DYING & HUNGRY

I

Not a firefly but equal
to a glyph and less or more
as light within a cage of flesh
steals like riots —
my mind prowls the poverty of
Life.

Excommunicate while suffering
without shutting up  and hearing
past ghosts whisper:

“dying & hungry.”

08132020


I AM DUMB AND I AM WEAK

WITHIN the heat of night i see my moon shadow
within this night yes so if i ever say
i ever denied love only because i am weak
and i see you and i know how colors paint
life & how broken hearts weep for more tomorrows
And dear : i lost my mind and my mouth | i see how
seeds grow into frail flowers
/so i see my shadow \ even in sunlight —
so i am dumb and i am weak and so
human. So if within the heat
of night i see my moon shadow
within this night yes / i lost my mind
and forgot the spectrum of colors because
i lost your love. So sun shadows i burn
looking at your light and wish i could be
so much as you my brilliant sun and my mouth
and my teeth and heart and my soul weeps
tearings looking at the moon shadow.

:: 08.12.2020 ::


WHEN BLOOD MEETS MOONLIGHT

\   after the worst of days
of any age –on these nights
when blood meets moonlight
never feel bad for me.

i was glad
    to grow upon any night
so winds sing sounds–the
gates are near

ii.

when i wake up–Over there,
framed by a heart whose ventures
i love;  take me August nights!
after the worst of days

of any age
on these nights
when blood meets
moonlight.

:: 08.02.2020 ::