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Return to Night

she said: "The trysting time
is a winter prelude.
this love is our religion."

my mind perceives the jewels of beauty
my soul is an echo - a prisoner within its body
that longs to be free

as a citizen of that distant city
in every thought I long for her
in every action do I reach

in the days past she was called: the Shulamite
a female Solomon
her flesh rended for her loveliness

yesterday is the only happiness
in our youth
when our bodies were pure
before our love was consummated

Mysterious [dedicated to 41st]

It's not a Rubik of six by nine,
some believe it's coded on a line.
It's more like a jigsaw with umpteen pieces,
for folks to figure out it's puzzling faces.

Where to begin is like toss of a coin,
not everyone though gets it fine.
Some give up playing, early in the game
others keep trying, not easy to tame.

No one does have a magic band,
there's nothing here, like the sleight of hand.
It's all about fixing pieces right,
though some are crooked, some with straight side

SINGLE one Liner Poem

submit to me a writ, you shall not compose poetry a bit...

Converted

I am baptized with a wave
and a dry palm leaf
the wind brought from the trail.
I was there with him.

We crossed country roads,
went through the grasses
and mangrove swamps,
waded in rivulets, stomping
and breaking to pieces
darkening mirrors of ponds.

Smoke in the nostrils,
hay in the hair, we shared the air
with widening prairie.
We drank the abundant belated bloom
and finally found the way to the shore.

NEUTERED

oh better not say that
weaving tongue
better not cut my balls off
with malignant algorithm's

better not think lions shredding hyenas
while veiled demons lick assholes for car payments
and boarder children gnash heaping tears of blood
desperate for their parents loving arms
and soft troubled kisses

God looks upon his creation and says
"and it is good"

what will people think
am i a nice person
birthday face
shut eyed stiff
not dangerous, like a gun in the face

The Joy of Doing Nothing

The Winter season has finally come,
Oh, I what a joyful time to idle around.

It’s a good way to relax our nerves too,
Allowing the clouds to carry us through.

Why be conditioned to keep ourselves busy?
When chasing time makes us all crazy.

But doing nothing is a respite,
To clear our mind’s tiredness;
So, after being idle for a little while,
We’re back ready for another life’s bouts.

A Loose Tooth

shelter me in from hand to chin where everybody wins
choose the day the night is far spent in fear I calm all cheers
celebrate on occasion your bringing me down spent from painting the town...,
look into my eyes a devide state responds,

eggs Benedict and orange juice turn to the kettle for living proof
penetrate me thine living doll a soldier of reproof taking a nice hot shower
green is the grass you made for tea hoping sometime that she would marry me
devide us then guide us from living proof another loose tooth

"Nevermore" (Imagery Workshop:Raven)

Our vehicles swarm in a steel hot day
Around the busy round-about
Where the highway meets Route 4.
It was there my eyes saw a raven
Arriving and defiantly posed
Folding his wings behind his back,
In the center of the berm with dead weeds,
Encircled by a wall of stone.

His eyes followed our every move;
Black like the craggy graveyards
He must have come from
(Like that stupid poem we read in school
About some creepy bird and fool).

Soul Knight

Is there more?
To eat,be born, work, sleep .

Growing without being able to edit your past
Eating without getting filled up
Working every time just to survive
Sleeping just to wake up to another reality.

Is that all,
Is there more,are these what the world can offer
Is there still more
Is there another phase

Our Dreams
Is that the real world
Is this present life a fiction
Explanation's?

Tale of The Curse??

Depressing, morbid thoughts.
My Son sweating, overwrought.
Why Our fucking Curse?
Breeding in the Universe.

So many of our Sacred days,
Mark-ed as your Holidays.
None has brought yet,
A Fate that’s well met.

There is a Family Curse.
I could be next in the hearse.
It dogs me at night.
It’s my Family Right.

What must I say to you?
These words I write are true!
Liquor loosens tongues,
They are not The Ones.

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