Flames

Seesaw surges swelling
in seeping sensations,
kings of ire and passions
vie in taunting manipulation
to own the heart
playing their tantalizing desire pieces
for seeing which will king the fingers.

Eyes betray clash of horns and haloes
with their alabaster curious flash
and scarlet ravenous stares,
moving like a pawn
upon life's chessboard as the hunger inspires.

Rules kept in the mind's closet
rewritten with every new match
when either hate or love
have won the last duel.

We wear the crown
flaming forces forged in our actions.

Tomorrow's game
already prepared
each time we face
a rendezvous with
what challenges our smiles
and ends seeking checkmate
over our thoughts.

Just Another Saturday

Layers of seconds droning on
in lethargic monotony,
body bloated from my sugar addiction,
always going to change,
someday,
but that was a sunrise
which was always greeted
with procrastination's slumber.

Was just another Saturday
in my thoughts,
not promising hope, nor tears.
The pneumonia sweeping through me
in lightning virus haste,
took me from ordinary,
to intensive care
life dangling on heartbeat precipice.
Diabetes diagnosed in near death agony,
operation performed to keep right lung from suffocating
over being filled with thick infected fluid.

Surviving the trauma, forced to change life
gritting in the trial of shedding my decades of abuse,
facing hours of dietary alternatives
exercise routines I thought before were insane,
embraced in daily ritual.

Life walking a new path
among a wilderness of sweat and calorie free options,
each day grateful for the simple gift of breath
knowing in poignant clarity of one hellish even
how easily it is for that to end.

Seals

Transparent deliverers
using promise's
bandage dispensers.

Trust's broken packages
decaying
when vow's glue fails,
wishing lying lips
were sealed instead.

Dotted Lines

Virgin pen
dipped in trust's well
scribbles compulsion.

Seduction's cannibal lips
kiss with
asp inclinations,
victims bitten,
convinced it's love.

Lattice Sight

Bedroom slowly succumbs to the murky delusions,
phantom crossroads are reached between figment and touch,
inside the hand ethereal, numinous collector of sacred scenes,
grabs the spirit's throat
and drags it down the rabbit hole to one's private revere Wonderland.

Murmurs of reoccurring mirage mammoths
stomp in resonating vibes across the azure hued fields of luminosity,
when an inner revealing drum, in cadence with the heart,
beats its own rhythm upon ascending terraces of poignancy.

Stairs are built in the diaphanous layers
where the mind floats upon a rivulet of mystically molten sagacity,
swallowing reality and truth beneath a wave of epiphany riptides.

Essence suddenly feels the tremors of profound
among the abstract artistry of dancing metaphors
waltzing their majesty to an enigma's symphony.

Blend and blur of conscience are twins in focus
as a translucent lattice rises from the mind's eye
leading to an eternal glimpse of sunrise
which is clustered with its vines of lucid and ominous erudite grapes
uttering a strange, yet spellbound chortle of awakening.

It all is fog, of pure rapture lingering in the bones,
vortexes of ecstasy suck at the veins,
bringing heaven into the ephemeral stroke of life's birth pangs,
consumed by a redemption of flawless clarity,
where body truly meets soul in oneness.

One Hug

I have no fantasies of gold or power,
no single need for fame,
just would once in my life
find a time when kindness given
would be end in a thank you, instead of tears.

Echoes of sobs fill the void in gratitude
wandering the desert, alone and ignored,
with the never ending dream
that someday, some how a single person would actually
make me feel other than unwanted.

On The Porch

The afternoon sun beckoned
with its soft amber siesta spell,
but it couldn’t cleanse of that memory
about his fingers on her pores,
from three pm interlude spent in the bedroom,
breeze blowing over to entwined bodies,
sounds of the neighborhood
swallowed by something intense and incredible
in the caress she seldom had felt in so long.

Her hands nearly shook
when recalling that second in the kitchen
as he reached out to embrace her with an unexpected kiss,
unleashing all the passion they had both subdued,
so hard for her to accept love might have found her
after the death of her husband and the long hours of being alone.

During the cool of that quiet time spent on the porch,
watching her young grandson,
it all seems so impossible,
could she truly feel so alive again?

Exhaling the questions to fight
against the hunger growing inside,
which he had awakened,
a streak of panic running through her thoughts,
would her kids really accept this change?

Still the ache from having him touch her so deeply
just couldn’t be denied.

It would have to wait,
trying as she subdued the tornado of feelings,
hoping to untangle her desires
by the time he returned from his business trip.

Torn

Opulent positivism phrases,
uttered from dying utility.
Threadbare eloquence,
never sews the soul's shredded shroud.

Pillars

Clustered communal visions from birth of civilization
rise in the untried innocent ambitions,
seek an entrance through their obsessive grasp
to a guarantee their shining moment in time
will be a sunrise and never a sunset.

Society carved by political engineer waves patriotism's flaming banner
over the misery endured that their torch of glory
would be sculpted in passionate artistry
set in permanence through stone and brick, pedestals of their zeal,
never feared will crumble,
each positivism's prophet tongue
vows defiantly that their foundation shall not pass away
into the dust and rubble remaining
as the legacy remember for ancient souls
who carved their initials in time's mountains,
but never gained the illusionary mantle of fame's immortality.

Receipt for their trial and ardor,
specific to their culture's personality.
New citadel erected on the mounds of predecessor,
following the cycle of human need to dream and create an utopia,
which like the heart that beats so hard with desire,
these pillars of vanity too will sleep in a graveyard
having headstones decapitated over their hopes of becoming divine,
stories left behind in the cracks
only told by the wind with ghostly moans of lament.

Her Viola

She played
for the waves
in memoriam
to sailors lost at sea.

At sunset
gracing ocean
with her melodies.

Then her fame spread,
providing invitation
to visit across the waters.

Ship sinking in storm,
her instrument
mysteriously reappearing on beach.

The Viola's song
continuing its solo,
obeying her ghostly fingers.

Medicinal

Apothecary theology serving feigned
numinous cocktails
from tainted panacea champagne bottles.

Orthodoxy labels missing dates,
location of vineyards seen
possessed of surreal images
with skull and cross bones
warning sign
next to ingredients
claiming death comes
when not imbibed.

Served on a pew buffet
once a week,
medicine man in cleric collar
offers sermonized guarantee,
elixir will cure every ill
as long as you have faith
vinegar tastes like wine.

Soul Survivors

Grains of haunting hollowness
stretched as a endless Sahara of loneliness
across the mind's playground.
Treading step by painful step
in futile social nuances,
praying some sanctuary of compassion
will appear that isn't another mirage
of someone's false promises.

Midnight's wind storms of recrimination
rage in the pillow easel,
suffocating the inner deliverance visions
for finding a single heart to have ears
that might hear one's sobs
over feeling so invisible and insignificant
even in the middle of a crowd.

Soul finds solace
beholding the sight of hope's forming clouds
which hold the promise of love's rainfall.

Moving ahead, feeling so parched inside
from the emptiness,
surviving upon the spirit's eyes
who see possible lovers and oasis
waiting beyond the desolate horizon.

SIGHT

Eyes
gazing
beyond cares,
finding feathers
among cloudy thoughts
giving flaring moments
till the heart thus ignites
angels seen instead of demons
love sharing haloes instead of thorns
inwardly vision embraces new sight

Astronomy

That fated moment
my telescope of longing
saw your constellation of bedazzling beauty,
I felt the love shine
deep into the black emptiness
where I had drifted forever.

Inhaling your radiance,
never dreaming it would die,
how could I know to burn so bright
meant the light would be consumed?

In the wake of the black hole
which you fell as an ebbing flame
was I also swallowed,
my heart felt the death
as a hollow shell of pulse.

Outside

I know where the door leads,
what lies in wait beyond its opening.

There is a world I refuse to visit,
for doing so will surely cause me to die.

Monsters roam its shadows
swamps cover its landscape,
my heart burns with anxiety's fire,
just to imagine walking out to greet that danger.

Long have I penned my thoughts so faithfully
about all that lurks there,
making me feel so brave that I've taken some action
even though it never carries me outside.

Happily, I keep the diary written safely locked.
It is fiction I weave with fables of heroism,
inventing scenes to avoid the facts
that the day's sun might expose.

Never risking to step passed this barrier
open or not,
why ruin the glorious scribbled with reality?

Darkness' comfort lets me hide
from where my life has gifts I'm never known.
And will as long as I have fear as a housekeeper,
with can't as my butler.

Chagrin's Secrets

Lips rage passions
senses tingling with torment.

Words regurgitate
zephyr ire
paranoia's eloquence
firing missiles.

Hitting target
exquisite devastation.

Mushroom cloud ruination
discovering wounded,
enemies wearing love
assumed to be deceit's armor.

Face carved in scarlet,
veiling pressing buttons.

Paths of Serene

Ghosts of whim's lament
swallowed by winds of forgiveness,
inhaling them slowly and calmly
beyond the dawns
still burning with regret's fires.

Slipping inside the comforter
muffling the echoes of sobs,
eyes are reborn with vision of acceptance
seeing the scars and each stumbling
as learning's odyssey
instead failure's footsteps.

Traveling the inward journey to the mirror
seeing beauty regardless of the face.

Opening the door leading
to the sanctuary within
having embraced the key
that was lost in esteem's labyrinth.

Melody of surrender
floats its lilting layers into the soul,
descending beneath the chaos
which jackals of self -recrimination howl,
reclining upon a harmony's hammock
swaying gently, falling farther
from each bedeviling spook of concern,
till in the deep, rich tranquility
the only sound left to hear
is the precious bliss of being alone
and not hating the companionship.

Forests

Pillars of timeless essence,
pristine pines that stand so stately,
facades imbued of serenity,
myths of purity always engendered,
outward presumptions
assumed of prevailing continuity
in its long black fingers
between the trees,
inspiring dreams of even richer tranquility.

But in its darkness are secret layers
where sunlight doesn't touch,
for there the termites thrive,
diseases spreads in its silent stealth,
paradise's hope first imagined,
dies in the shade's truth,
extinguishing anticipation's flame.

Medicinal

Apothecary theology serving feigned
numinous cocktails
from tainted panacea champagne bottles.

Orthodoxy labels missing dates,
location of vineyards seen
possessed of surreal images
with skull and cross bones
warning sign
next to ingredients
claiming death comes
when not imbibed.

Served on a pew buffet
once a week,
medicine man in cleric collar
offers sermonized guarantee,
elixir will cure every ill
as long as you have faith
vinegar tastes like wine.

Ventriloquist Stares

Cauterized conscience
learning rote conformity,
where Barbie and Kens
have real hearts,
but no soul.

Mirrored intuition
mummifies vision,
voice babbling
parrot philosophies
through orbs
seeing
social caricatures
as sitcom surreal truth

Happily chirping
what is predictable,
in candy coated dozes
of myopic excuses.

Deliverance

Barren drifts of sorrow sands,
wandered in vagabond lament,
an endless sea traveled
blown by regrets wind,
insides ache by howling wail of desperation,
"will I ever find love
on this sojourn towards oblivion."

Rescue always in isles of promises
that on the horizon, but never reached,
body trembles at the fearful visions,
reaching headstone destiny
without a mate to mourn the passing.

In a flicker, a single heart beat's hope,
light rises from a pillar,
truth's citadel shines from another soul,
erected illumination guides away
from footprints ever lost to time,
door eagerly opened to refuge
heart's angel of longing waits at top of stairs,
veracity and amore wed together,
tears rush from joy
flood the desert travailed
garden grows in the emptiness,
seeing life at last through eyes
not blinded by days of dying,
while holding a sand bag of wretched grains.

Prosperity

Fumes of smoke stacks darken the skies,
hanging like death shrouds over the city.

Industry owner looks down from mansion
at his empire, sipping his cocktail
while casually perusing the secret report
about the number of those who died
from what his business poured into the air,
which he bribed officials to claim was safe.

Grateful, nobody notices the toxic wastes dumped into river,
causing so many lives to be extinguished early.

Glancing over at the cemetery sprawling greens,
mind making mental note,
to find out how many plots are still available,
always pays to know how many more can be sacrificed
before he will have spend money to make his plant
finally conform to laws, he has only had to obey with lip service

Flickers

Winsome whiffs wavering wind over one's wispy wishing well wick
slipping silently into shadowy swampland seeping through the soul,
haunting gloom slowly shrouds the visionary vineyard.

From the chasms where identity moans are strangled by doubt's banshees
mind staggers through the surreal angst labyrinth
muttering soliloquies of yesteryear's rainbow promises.

Eve's despair veil spreads it smothering sway over the fleeting illumination
until one is immersed in sorrow's darkest sea.

Lingering upon the tiding thrusts of tempest torment
clinging to the conviction's frayed remnant raft
finding among grace's survivor's kit
a single flair to shine into the blackness.

It flickers against the swells and rage
warming where one thought tomorrow was waning
seeing far enough beyond the moment to believe again in miracles.

Can you

Can you
hold a dream
or feel the touch of the phantom seducer
who has cast a spell upon your night?

Will you always chase passion's echoes
into dead end romantic rendezvous
when this heart I have
and place in your hand
beats so loudly and longingly
only for you.

Looking Glass Smiles

Rabbit hole lusts
transcending the wails of yawns
creeping down the spine
in icy tarantulas torment
that grope as ravenous, cannibalistic octopus .

Brain stem slithering sensations
carpet with surreal threads
within haunting figment chasms
as mad hatter sages
mutter in their cross dressing royalty
a cry for decapitation
of one's quintessence.

The mirror mocks each cerebral tome
penned during toilet confessionals,
because it is a wicked paradigm
floating in ghostly hope mirages between closet
and mattress communions.

All being the rumbles of collective conscious
quaking during some nod ecstasy
when unbirthday ecstasies
inspire a curl of lips
from seeing dawn
as a poker game.

Nostalgia

Father so desired to give his children
an educational rewarding taste of the past.
Taking them on vacation
to a small historic town.

Pretending not to hear their lament
over the lack of internet and cable,
cell phones confiscated,
he said for their own good!

Grumbling about dad being weird and looking bored
when he showed them the preserved blacksmith stable.
Son wondering if this was an ethnic thing
about somebody named mentally stable guy
with last name of Smith?

Rolling their eyes
after he tried to explain that a hitching post
wasn't a place used by hitchhikers to leave messages.

Finally, hoping to salvage the event
by the memorable thrill of a horse drawn carriage ride.
Nature thwarting his plan
as horse stopped to lift its tail.

Ignoring children's questions,
having scrunched up noses,
about "what's that smell?"

Vowing next year
to take them to Disney World.

Flames

Seesaw surges swelling
in seeping sensations,
kings of ire and passions
vie in taunting manipulation
to own the heart
playing their tantalizing desire pieces
for seeing which will king the fingers.

Eyes betray clash of horns and haloes
with their alabaster curious flash
and scarlet ravenous stares,
moving like a pawn
upon life's chessboard as the hunger inspires.

Rules kept in the mind's closet
rewritten with every new match
when either hate or love
have won the last duel.

We wear the crown
flaming forces forged in our actions.

Tomorrow's game
already prepared
each time we face
a rendezvous with
what challenges our smiles
and ends seeking checkmate
over our thoughts.

Between the horizons

Our heart rises and sinks
upon the tides of faith's illumination
when that life giving orb of ancient brilliance
awakes us each morn in hope
then slips again below the lines of the horizon.

Gently we are nudged as it sails the skies
by the fiery inner hands that stroke our senses,
to cling to angels and feel the looming psalms
which make our days like treasures.

Even in the midst of madness gremlins,
where stress's spiders cringes every vein,
our souls still sip the shining quintessence
feeling so comforted and alive by its presence.

Tomorrow is the promise whispered by lips at night
riding the crest of the sun's special incandescent waves,
taking us to places warm and soothing
even when eve curls its tentacles of worry around us.

Tradition

Bold, defiant
declared as ageless
are the things, solidified by opinion.

Archangel presumptuously summoned by a vote,
asserted as divine vocational legacy of right
through a committee of penguin imitators,
ardently defending faith in spiritual masks.

One enters the archway hesitantly and fearful,
hearing the conformity snickers
of "got you, sucker."

Quietly hushed, by the purest resonance,
from unseen, but felt wings and harps,
vibrating so deeply with their bone marrow assurance,
Heaven is not a myth
after all.

Cages

Bars in the mind
locks in the heart.
Keys held by keepers
with maniacal intent.
Feeding time comes
philosophical manure
sprinkled with legalize syrup
sprayed from podiums
suckled like mother's milk
because the person
in the next cage
is doing the same.

HOLES

Dark, empty so lacking in light,
waiting and demanding to be filled
reaching deep inside the caverns
lying behind the eyes
and ending in the heart.

What we spend a lifetime
putting inside of them,
either makes us whole or hollow,
with the storage leading to firework thoughts
or an empty space between the ears.