Raising ecstasy....

Let me be young again...
in the summer of my life...
in bikinis or without..
in seas wide and deep
and you will feel the rods inside out...
as you will nod
and in ecstasy...
rebound only
if I could turn back the key...
the lock could open easily...
if you were as exotic
too...

new wave poetry

well the same mind coughs so very often...very often
some music flows in some ears
while for else it’s a cause of tears,

You will visit
the
ball
where everyone's faces
will be covered with masks
and I won't be able to find
you.

My face too will be
underneath the mask
and someone else
will find
me.

After,
on my way to home
I discover the masks,

you're a ghost
I'm a liar.

At home
I take my clothes off.
I'm standing in front of god,
there's a mirror in front of
me,

dead as matter
alive as process

both indestructible.

Some thoughts about the household cat,
an independent cuss is that.
Not like the family dog who'll sit,
or on your lap will try to fit.

The dog obeys the master’s call,
the cat it seems can't hear at all.
The dog will let you pet a bit,
the cat just out of reach will sit.

The dog tries to communicate,
the cat treats you like real estate.
The cat when only in the mood,
allows affectionate interlude.

spacial
lows

the seperate
apex
like a soulful fulcrum
under stress

the delicate
music
of this flex

calling
in its voice
of wavelength

the saturation depths
alight

If I was a comfort
in the feilds of snow
the scatter
of that haze

it was buried
drawn fast
beneath
the fury

lost chaste post
to the new age
orders
tucked neat

falling like the
orchid cold
fast of evening

a ghost of
colour