Category: All

I AM
It is in the ying and yang
Of experiencing a concurrent feeling of the inexplicable….
That you will find affinity.
Do you sometimes feel that your head is too full?
That your heart is missing?
I feel like that at times,
And must remind myself that
Memories are a collective force,
Which seek channels in and through my life
To thrive and find purpose.
Then I know for sure,
That I am here.
Concurrent with the inexplicable
I reassure myself once more that
I am to be again…today…
Me!

Aphrodite’s reclaim ’tis spoiled by a melancholy air!!!
Ole’ Mephistopheles is hellishly, devilishly austere!
Daring is Archangel’s tryst for celestial concupiscence!
Ah-ha, Sub-Rosa’s boutade is supine to love’s prescience!

The sweetest fawn I spy just below the dark, Forest’s Edge.
She races toward me when I slowly move to her. How bold!
When I back away, she too hides beneath the cradle of nature’s
Canopy. A glimmering ray of sunshine unveils her celestial eyes.
Boldly she jumps into the meadow, unafraid of her unveiling.
I watch this fawn pace along love’s edge with sensuous strides.
Her boldness inspires, yet startles me. In feigned fear I seek
A Crooked Shadow with which to bond, quantifying vain reasons
To deny or qualify the purpose of this most Beautifully Adorned,
Morning Glory. So sleek and swift, spry and full of life. Yet, as I
Love her from the crooked crevices of my place of dread, I Realize
It is not Chance that makes me step into the love of her dance.
This yearning of mine to savor each and every nuance of her grace,
Comes born from no blind trick of ear or eye, touch or smell. No,
It stems from the deepest source of all, the drawing room of the
Highest! The light of yesterday’s sight cannot escape love’s prism.
In such a place God wields the mystery of His Mighty Hand, and all
Creation knows. No coincidence stirs this dancing fawn at Hope’s Edge.
Can gray skies turn brightest blue with hearts so true..so true?
By His Clues Divine, so True, tomorrow’s dance brings the New?

circling the moon, chasing comet tails,
i spied a creature hiding behind beams
shining light years away across desert
expanses, dancing through solar winds
spiraling like a celestial jewel sweeping
through the heavens, waiting for
the moment
the time
the space
to open wide a dimensionless plain
and appear from disguise as a star
of love
of passion
of hope
to close tight the widening unknown
disappearing into my world as a thing
of beauty waiting to be loved as a glow
wishing to be discovered as the poem
that never again hides love behind
curtains of cosmological design.

there are three
forming a perfect circle,
a drunken girl screams
a man in the brush shrinks
a figure in the light runs
the street lamp flickers once
the figure in the light shrinks
the man in the brush runs
the drunken girl mutes
fists clenching, adrenaline rushing
their actions fall short,
pushed back by unfamiliar pains
despair resurfaces again and again
someone falls through dampened leaves
lying in pools of pale blue light
with eyes closed,
one last sound fills the street
to end the night
the gentle fall
of a broken heart.

the fortune of love is a journey
that begins by crossing the bridge of promise.
we walk it steadily looking for open hearts
and open minds that draw us to them without
reason or purpose of design, but merely
meld toward each other because of the undefined
destiny that is the engine of our desires. sometimes
we disappear into the crowds to enjoy the seclusion
of our own personal romance, only to realize that
our journey is yet incomplete. we are not finished
until our hearts are like the earth’s soggy soil;
love rich for the seeds of unity that will make
our passage into the surreality of love a triumph
of persistence and of how quickly we stepped in
that very first moment when we moved across the
bridge of promise seeking love, yet finding life!

i reach for it in the intra-cosmic arena of sleep, alone to travel as
the mind’s eye turns inward. sweet sleep is release from the white of
hesitation’s sigh. comes then the gift of life’s unsullied mystery
to stir my soul, i hope i hope. only then can there be placement
of the remarkably unelectable standing afar, high and above sour,
banal words marked by dark scripts stalking vacant hopes. i shiver in
the empty dreams i keep i keep. repetitiously, piteously the past i
yearn to reap to reap. to design this reality is the dream of the me,
but of the you as well so well. we search for some new piece,
which clings to the shadows unknown, unborn. a melody silent,
amorphous. a living soul, dark and charred, breathing surreal.
the day is an extraterrestrial space. void is the day of light. cold
and cruel is the night of dark. stalking vacant hopes, i shiver in
the empty dreams i keep i keep. repetitiously, piteously the past i
yearn to reap to reap. to design this reality is the dream of the me,
but of the you as well so well. we search for some new piece,
which clings to the shadows unknown, unborn. a melody silent,
amorphous. a living soul, dark and charred, breathing surreal.
the night is a midnight place. stalking vacant hopes, i shiver in
the empty dreams i keep i keep. repetitiously, piteously I weep I weep

My love should taste as sweet as the wine I drink.
Yet, blue is my heart that bleeds the darkest ink.
And from my weeping veins my soul would weave,
Another tale that never will be.
Even though to her and her alone my heart is bound,
For in her heart of bluest blue, sweet love I found.
And in her veins of redest red,
There flows no greater love than can be read.
But this you know her blue heart ’tis always my staid,
And our love shall endure until completely bled.

Take note! Stand near!
Dark Forest protects my darling deer!
She fleetly flees o’er swollen streams wetting tears.
Not once, she glances back upon her fated fears,
Yet, runs and runs her solace soon to find.
Her thirst not quenched lest it serves to bind,
And hold her fast to a love now lost.
Her spirit thus pursues, denies the cost.
Her passion is the train that trails.
Her bosom heaves in deep travails,
Resting only within his safe embrace.
Guided by a holy rite of grace,
An Empyreal union so sweet, so sweet to taste
That bitterest sweat of souls to n’er be waste’d.
Dark Forest, bare paths of swift
Uniquity! Oh Ancients, divinely merge the rift,
Which parts the sweetling from her roe,
Who doth cry with heart forlorn and rent with woe,
For the love, and bliss, and hope of all eternity,
Which shall pair the two immortal, yoked in solidarity!

Crescent hands press against my heart forlorn,
Marking the trellis made of art scorned,
Feeding the wind against crimson soul,
Searching the anger spit out from within the shoal.

What is the weight of the world that
Burns my steel forged on anvils flat,
Enjoining grief and thoughtless hope,
Mourning my future now bending broke?

Against my heart the press of the mark
Scorns the trellis around my heart,
Stealing the art within my soul,
Bending the shoot of life’s only goal.

What is the weight of the world then?
Unseen blinds raising paths twisted to men,
Railings to split hands seeding the wind.
The wait against time my dreams to send.