A new wrinkle pressed upon this old flame
is now the greatest joy to Our eyes.
We inhale the smells of this perfect work
and exhale the toils invisible perks.
Pride, selflessness and fear in perfect balance
has provided the fuel for our laugh's drive.
Trees have added extra rings since our last silence.
Men and women have added to family member's lives.
The more I search into your eyes
I notice how much like mine your soul cries.
Within the jubilance, unsettled vibe and maddening dance,
we are here, because of the harmony in our past.
Before Our meeting, after our demise,
only the moments of heightened wonders shall last.
"Without you this wouldn't exist", we've been known to say.
We secretly believe the other would excel with
or without us- A damaging thought that has no place
amongst or next to the niche on the
side of Our faces; the hill that has been
molded by your jokes, your kiss, your music,
your tears, your smoke, your children, your
parents and your smile of dimples.
Old flames and LIFE partners,
here's a Love poem wishing you continue adding
laughter to each other's life's wrinkles. (c) 2012
You see through me in a pornographic
way. Removing layers of my clothes, my skin,
my muscle and getting to what's within.
You don't however notice me doing the same
until I touch a nerve at which you
Feeling invaded upon, though quietly
you gave me permission to leave my mark;
my stain on your psyche, my hand on
Nakedness illustrates our honesty.
No hiding place, no abode of lies.
Just puckered lips crooked to the side
in the thought of the crushing sexual damage
this flesh and spiritual
can do to You.
Eyes wander and wonder how to handle
this truth, though naked i stand as well.
Allowing thoughts to travel deeper than
just the bones; to marrow (tomorrow) we won't
talk about what we saw
in the other.
The story has begun in the middle
and will continue to satisfy first in the end.
As long as we search with the same
primal and sexual curiosity
at our unmasked love: X-rayted. (c) 2012
Blew my nose, bled through the tissue.
Mucus and sweat mixed in as a
reminder: I will move on one way
Time doesn't tick unless there is
a clock. Stomachs don't growl
if they are fed. Take away
the feeding the growls become
nature's second hand.
Serves as another reminder
to move on.
Settle for small cuts to keep
alive. Smiles on friend's faces
keep you looking so young.
Heart break doesn't exist
until you write about it.
history can forget some stories,
but never forget its own.
Ink runs when rain hits.
Emotions run causing tears.
Tears dry causing stains.
Stains of this ship's relay
cannot be removed.
Served as a reminder:
I will move on one way or another. (c) 2012
CAUGHT IN A WEEK STATE
Watch as I dash away today's lessons,
Laugh at whatever may be tomorrow's teachings
and wonder where yesterday's innocence went.
As I watch the Sun go down
I visualize your eyes
closing without a sound
and the day is gone. (c) 2012
A mean spirit
caught in Earth's rhythm
and audiences' glance
plays a piper's tune
to hypnotize their souls.
It's his vaporized past
that manifests in his eyes,
as tears stand ready to
drop, but then his guitar
sings the pain instead.
Of truths he has one
and it spells survival.
Note there's nothing promised
under a magician's hat
except for the madness
that kept himself and his
band of characters creative.
We wish he'd live past his melody,
but we've been affected,
so he lives on in a purple hue of
royalty and for this untapped potential
He lost his head. (c) 2012
I LOST MY BEST FRIEND IN A STORM
I lost my best friend in a storm.
She was whisked away by angry winds
and rained upon by the bombard's liquor.
Drunken drowning within the grey clouds
stifled her pleas for help, her yelps for
"Please. stop. I need you. I love you. I'm yours."
The words echo in my empty skull as
a vestige of her beauteous melody; her
vocal bait that I hung unto as nurishment.
No meal will do afetr self-cannabilism.
No weather will do after a tornado.
Nothing improves over the destruction left
after your love has been snatched by a
storm of your own dance: Tribal & savage.
All that remains are uprooted organisms
and cracked pavements; some shattered remnants
of security and then the smell of the sun
off in the distance - A hope that hides
between adolescent clouds related to those
darker tomes that engulfed her
and took her away. (c) 2012
FOR TONY (GET BETTER)
Sickness is fleeting, beauty is transient.
Wellness is blessing, should we be managing?
Thoughts merge to nods, clearance in fogs.
Cough your last spoonful, laugh at the flogs.
Whip your hair back'n'forth, wallow not willow,
in happiness abounding, get up from that pillow.
You are the mc, the party keeps going;
you gonna drop the mic now? Please tell me you're joking.
Get back on the stage, tell me your wins,
twist up the plot, surprise with the end,
but don't wish for a hand out, don't cry at the score.
You're gifted with tools, what are you using them for?
You're the doctor of words, so mend the absurd,
vomit out the toxins and walk with the birds.
On the ground not cloud nine,
only there will you find
the answers to questions,
like there's no such thing as time.
This isn't encouragement, only a reminder,
that you motivate you. Tony is the mirror. (I mean - ynoT? (why not)) (c) 2012