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Madeira

Smiling, she whispered, “To us.”
Then we clanked tulip-shaped glasses
filled with golden Madeira, straight from that island
in the Mediterranean Sea, and I kissed lips
that bore the fruity flavor of that wine,
and I uttered “M’dear-ah,”
so quickly that those words sounded
as though I spoke of the heavenly wine;
henceforth, I’ll think of her as Madeira.

A London Dinner At The Tower Hotel

I'll pick you up outside your room,
Outside your bedroom door;
I'll thrill to see you there, abloom,
And tell you so, and more.

I'll kiss your cheek, your hand I'll take
Explaining what I see;
I'll see all it takes to make
A sunset dream for me.

You'll take my arm, I'll walk you down
To where we meet to dine;
You'll dazzle in your evening gown
As fine as sparkled wine.

Walking

Stopped... kindly stunned, certain songs I not only enjoy their melody and message, more
occurs as my soul begins to hold hands with my heart, slowly walking me inside another's
talented work.
Asking myself... mere coincidence, or an uncommon connection brought by likemindedness…
easily expressed in their motivation to create, and my ability to receive something truly soothing
to me.
And just like my future significant other... relaxing with [ Mr. Creative me ]… strums your pain,
opening the pleasures of...……………………………..

Contort the Past

Show them how to face their life in this misery.
Teach them flesh and bones:
The dreams of the deceased.

Bleed inside with thoughts of future ecstasy.
Bleed inside with thoughts of future harmony.

Carve your names in stone and pass away.
Butterflies, moths and skeletons - all these clichés...

Bleed inside with thoughts of future ecstasy.
Bleed inside with thoughts of future harmony.

Sonnet 8

I barely hear those noises from behind,
When opened are the gates of elder dream;
The moon I reached was not that hard to find
In treasure of the night that's now supreme.

My simple voice cannot reveal the truth
Of blades and flesh in ordinary space,
But let me glance at them with eyes of youth
And be a star to whom you can replace

A skin of olden race. Mistakes you've done
Will stick upon your mouth like seven thorns,
Because one life means more than all the fun,
And guns are weak in front of greasy horns.

The longing for my beauty...*

The longing for my beauty bends a lot
those saddened bones I have to carry straight;
from legs to brain in pieces they will rot -
with helpless stanzas you'll confound my weight.

It's hard, you know... the gape devours my soul
when I confront the brightness of your eyes
and I shall dwell in darkness like a mole
that fights the sun until one fighter dies.

Untitled 3.11

I lay in a cupboard
lonely and scared,
boarded up
with gash and tear.

Yet she opens the door,
with a smiling face
and cradles me kindly,
rocking me soft with grace.

VON.

When I look at you,
I see the ones you've created to protect you from the world.
I will not resize the truth to fit your frame.
It's a bit cowardly I must say.
At times,
I urge to crack you open but then;
It takes the all spring for the rare flowers to bloom.
You won't strip this time.
I'll gently guide your petals free,
Help you unravel slowly.
Let me wander through your mind.
Be a beast hunting your fears .
Like a dream you've never envisioned,
We'll break the walls.

Quo Vadis et ego Rogabo

The Poet's Tale:

Awareness

Time stands still.
Regress:
The pale light of a future past.

The helpless, the tormented, the hapless
rejoice in regress.

Embrace the cosmic fire
and learn to dream
in a constant state of denial,
while keeping the mind awake!

Time stands still.
Regress:
The pale light of a future past.

The helpless, the tormented, the hapless
rejoice in regress.

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