I can imagine your lips

like the petals of a rose,

A red rose if i might add.

Now i see your tongue,

so wet and free

dancing along with mine ,

a slow mexican song.

your lips touch mine,

so soft like the petals of thee bloomed rose,

with the fragrance so rich,

sensational like rolling thunder.

I explore the rose,the high mountains,

the low sea,the untamed gardens and tall trees.

the rose is pure and fair,

tender and sweet to those who kiss by the book.



I stand there in scary newness,
the air in my lungs spiriting away as i take it all in,
my heart beats,it skips a bit.
I am lost.

Warm hearts and kind faces,
they find me in these places,
as i pretend to know and understand,
they see right through my abhorring facade.

Their hands are warm still
even as i cower back defensively,
a wounded lost animal bearing its teeth.
They beckon to me hiding bleeding limbs as i lash out.

Day out,day in,
they sit with me and offer treats,
always watching,looking past my glaring murderous visage,
they come closer still.

Commanding the darkness to depart with their carefree laughter,
they come in.
Boundless happiness invading completely
I reach out to it,
its okay,they see me.



The dimming light of all
cascades over the midday sun
as all the living things revel in it.

The heat makes them dance,
one to another,loving and dying in the hands of fate.
They live fiery lives,
always,as they take to the sky.

In risk of life and limb,
on unknown roads taken,
urged on by the solitary darkness of genius and hate,
they live,they thrive.

On the outer rings of infinite possibilities,
the outlier riffraff of cold dead souls,
with darkened spirits where the light doesn't  clear the skies,
look on as the numbness takes them.

Floating in the abyss of nothingness,
they skate by with the current ,
cosmic weeds embalming their wretched selves
as color leaves their eyes,
they look down in single file and walk into darkness. 



Hiding in myself as i find reasons to stay there,
as i speak to myself,
worrying about nothing as life turns me over a fire,
the spit roast that is human fragility.

I create dead space there too,
quiet darkness where i hide all the ugly things.
The shadows cast by insecurities,
the lies reinforced by prideful stupidity.

I sit in my space,
My own little nightmare that eats me,
I feed this little disease of mine
as it isolates my light with its darkened shroud.

I build a maze too,in there.
like tartarus,
like a coffin slowly filling with dirt.
It gets small,stifling,i claw for life,I scream like the enemies of the gods.

Its my space still,
I created this world of horrors and darkness,
rivers of molten larva flowing
Like a young planet still taking form,
I work still,trying to get the light to shine through to me.



After the years added on,
from nursery bed
to institutionalized slavery,
they polish me.

I have donned different shapes,
some of obedience,
love and hate.
I have worn them well.

I have worked on the lie
as my eccentricities were filed down
or added on.
As they beat my malleable spirit to submission.

The speech patterns,
the queens language,
the ill fitting clothes,stifling
Fashions borrowed from hollow crowds.

I am molded,
put through the crucible of replication.
A once blank canvas torn and mended over and over again.

They polish me still,
Painted red colors with blackish hues,
a banner man,a mascot.
Dancing to the beat of their drums.



Holding me like you own me,
like our very souls met in a past life,
I look into your eyes
searching for a reason to hate you.

Tracing my scars you smile to yourself,
you look at them,
you look at me.
There is nothing there for you baby.

There is only past fights,
past breakups and make ups.
I stand here next to you naked,
blind to everything,even the pain of losing you.

Don't read me,
There is nothing there to see,
No epiphany,not even a page turned for me.
close your eyes,kiss me again.



Marching on into unknown territory
I try to comfort my troubled soul
by singing a homeland song.

The journey is specific and trodden alone,
The path chose,chosen unsure,
Foes despise and fears arise
But still,the march is on.

Like a blind man lost in a maze of thorns,
Only in the march abreast and headstrong
A slip or fall can end it all
we shuffle together timidly holding on.

The march neither friendly nor kind,
Damp clouds and gloomy skies,
Only the spec of light in your eyes
And the will in your heart.
Helps you trod along.



There was the uncertainty,
the huge cloud looming over young impressionable souls as we learned to walk,
as we spoke for the first time to ask for more,
more food,more life and more love.

We grew up,
we came up curved by the knife of life,
we were shaped into the blocks of hardened granite,
the kind of hardness that dims your soul.
But we grew up.

Watching the world try to find itself,
we skate in the outlying corners of has been's,
of those who flew too close to the sun or didn't fly at all.
We lived in those holes where the light is limited and the nights,always cold.

When they said life was for all of us,we laughed,
we didn't know ,
We didn't know that life chose us too.
We didn't know about the sisters of fate or the father of destinies charm.

We grew up still,
Hard and soft.
Weak and strong.
Our stomachs growled,the elements never calmed,we had to.



The days are spent in the shadows,
away from the daylight customers who hate flies,
who sneer at their very own inadequate children as they act themselves.
The thin dog knows to stay away as the pretenders pretend.

The daylight takes away the people with the flashy clothes,
the wayward guffaws and the empty wallets
as pretenders whisper their pleas to the butcher as they hold their children's greasy hands.
The thin dog salivates as the bones are wrapped up in neat piles.

Evening and night,the dog appears tail wagging,bones protruding,
He licks the drunks rough hands,
he is patted by the swindlers with the silver rings,
they know him,even as they throw half eaten bones to him.

They smile together,
Laugh in the darkness and smoke,
as the butcher listens to their escapades.
The flies dance in the air as goat heads crack and stew is cooked with peppers.

The thin butchers dog dances under their heavy feet,
table shaking as they fight and arm wrestle.
The dog still wags it's tail in the melee,
He knows his master gets his due and always leaves him be where he belongs.



I live there sometimes,
when the days drag on,
when the nights are long and the spark of light calls
I sit there,i listen to the call

She calls me,the founder,
the genius of light that starts it all.
I sit there,she working her magic with my flawed thought.
I sit there and listen.

She speaks to me,she urges me to settle down,
she urges me to calm myself.
She knows i am lacking,
she knows i don't stand,i fall.

But yet there she is,
With my life in her hands.
She lays it out to me.
The idea,there she is,it makes sense now.



It was may years ago,
in a kingdom by the sea
that an angel lived with no other thought
than to love and be loved by me.

She was young,i was young
in this kingdom by the sea
but we loved with a love that was more than love,
with love that winged angels of heaven.
Coveted her and me.

Tis the reason that in this kingdom by the sea,
a chilling wind blew out of a cloud at night
and bore her away from me,
To silence her up within.

But our love was stronger by far than the love,
of those older or far wiser than we,
and neither the angels in heaven above,
nor the demons down under the sea
can ever separate my soul from thee.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
and the stars never rise but from the light in her eyes
and so all the night tide, i lied down by the side
of my darlin,my life ,my pride.
In a tomb,by the side of the sea.