Unrequited Love

I miss you like clouds miss water …

                        Your soothing voice resonating in bittersweet memory

                                                Low and almost guttural, your speech calls to me

                                                                        Almost as much as your touch – devilish and tender –

All at once

These memories turn thoughts to fire once again

                        Fire that was never quenched by your water

                                                Never dulled by your intense presence or soft words

                                                                        But those same words set you adrift, floating away

On the lake

                        Nearly as smooth as your words

                                                But too glassy to accommodate your stare

                        And when you stared into my blue eyes

with those golden flecked earthen discs

I melted.

                        Like snow under sudden heat

                                                Like peach vanilla from my Papa’s ice cream mixer

                        Your voice’s trembling was matched

                                                By the tremors of my frame as I followed your gaze.

So now – what to do?

                        The will is weak

                        No more patience to seek

                                                Every relationship incomplete

                                                Twisty vortex to everyone that I meet

                                                                        My mind searches for escape in alternate realities

                                                                        As twisted tyrants and gossips distort my eventualities

                                    Until one day, when maybe, no longer seeking your presence, I will find

                                    Some way to cope with the reality, never rosy in my sphere, towards love once again inclined.          

Not Whole: A Poem About Numbers

Not whole,

Misunderstood,

Embattled,

Controlled,

Wasting away …

            In this series

            Of fives

            Behind which

            The two through eights

            Play.

                                    What to do

                                    But try to fix?

                                    And meddle

                                    And TWIST

                                    And subvert

                                    And move

                                               The ‘immovable’ from Five to Six …

                                                Seven Tethered to the Eight

                                                Because she cannot

                                                Climb very easily alone;

                                                She rolls.

                                                She comes in on horseback

                                                Or her highness, the eight,

                                                must be ROLLED up the hill.

                                                                        And, as always,

                                                                        Almost against her will

                                                                        The Nine shows up

                                                                        To a spectacle of

                                                                        Numbers gone wrong

                                                                        Through sloth and waste,

                                                                        Inefficiency and haste

                                                                        She sweeps the ashes, still combustible,

                                                                        And jars them, till numbers become capable.

Metamorphosis Shiver

Waiting, shaking, heart palpitating …

            Shivers crawling up the central nervous system may indicate

                        Butterflies or demons,

Even butterflies that go on to transform a second time …

Metamorphosis from caterpillar to butterfly being insufficient –

bright-winged messengers, unable to maintain contentment

Veer from their primary purpose as they transform into demons …

Demons known by the particular shiver they produce

            Induce retreats behind brick walls and make anxious bedfellows

                        That distort meaning,

And fail to reincarnate butterfly-soft feeling.

The shiver of the winged nymph creates a ripple yet unmatched –

Hatched deep within the passions of first meeting

Becomes fleeting with the passage of time …

And the METAMORPHOSIS of butterflies into demons.

...

‘People watching’ is less fun than before;

Animals seem far less a raging bore.

People, filled with much less of God than they assume,

Their lofty images of themselves lead them to presume

That somehow they are entitled to their arrogance

In this gigantic universe that our Creator gave substance.

Were we made in His image?  Hers?

How do you know?

Were the animals just parts of nothingness then?

How can it be so?

ALL of this CREATED by years of evolution, dear,

God’s part to start the breath of life, free and clear

Further than it seems, yet always close enough for the moment, mine

Therefore, each thing that breathes that life has beauty,

Not just you, with your hope of being a graven image of the divine.

            Omniscient though?  I also hope to be, and the truth, see.

Yet I am aware of one thing

That each being

Perhaps unseeing

Hears a ring

                     Of a distant bell

                   That may foretell

                  Of grove and well

                       Woodland dell

                     & A secret spell

                                                That conjures a watery trance

                                              Two stars with the same glance

                                                              A full moonlight dance

                                                       An unforgettable romance

                                                                Avoidance and rants    

                                                                    a forsaken chance

                                      that given intention,

                            not merely sways decision,

                but operates for ultimate precision

                                     of purpose and vision,

                                      and truth the mission

                                it rests upon intervention

                                                 of the intuition                                          

 which can not be caged,

 Lest it become enraged

     Passions unassuaged

     Sentiments outraged     

       Brick walls engaged

    Motivations regauged 

            New bets waged

        The game restaged.

                                         And now, we are back to nine

                                                          The number, divine

                                                           The moment, mine

                                                                 The only prime

                                                         Needed for the time

                                                      Is the stars that shine

                                        On my body arched and supine

                                                 And thoughts clandestine

                                                     Of a superior bloodline

Penetrate my mind

Offer omniscience

Of the loftiest kind

As I escape into subconscious.

Hmm ... ;-P

Searching for no one

     there you were

Each of you probing me with your eyes

     long before the consummation of the intention

You never realized that there were diamonds

     in my coal and steel stare

I saw your confusion and walked away

     left you unaware

     Until the next time you see a glare

                                   and unprepared

                                      without a care

                            have moments unfair

   And wonder how long you must bare

                                                   -  your soul - to remember

                                                                             recognize

                                                                             reaffirm

                                                                              react

                                                                              reacquire

                                                                    and    reawaken    My stare.

Humble Ego

Is my ego so massive

     it must be contained

                      restrained

                      blamed

      molested or chained?

Tipping the scales of my heart

     for good or ill

                no matter the will

                                       skill

                   pretense or frill

     ignites fire

It is all fire ...

     my ego

     my heart

     my passion

     even my loyalty

You all burn

     and I watch in disbelief

                  almost complete

                      with relief

                         as sheep

     convince me that I should sleep.

But I can not ever sleep

       then I may remember a dream

                                  faces, unseen

                              want the pristine

                             develop a meme

                         make people scream

        and all for a day that turns into another night.

So perhaps, for now, I will just

     listen to the wind in the wee hours

                        feel the sunrise power

                   delight in morning showers

           find sentiments that don't sour

         climb old trees like ancient towers

       & search for your face as I cower

     huddling in the dark waiting for the flame to present itself.

Mdawn  ;-P

Parental Discretion Advised

Maybe I just won't speak

     I've tried not eating

          I've tried doing Everything

                    AND Nothing.

I've tried believing that

     I was the Cause

     I was the Problem

But that's fucked up

     It's not me

     It's you ...

          You people living in mediocrity

               Satisfied with the shit you can see

          The way it is - is supposed to be -

               The way it HAS to be?

Never been a status-quo junkie

     Though a little quid pro quo is alright with me

There can be no Justice without Truth

     And the Truth you all just refuse to see

          Instead you say it's all me ...

So maybe I'll just take a vow of Silence

     Let you all live in your Ignorance

And keep my mouth shut - let's see -

     If I really want it to be easier for me ...

I suppose I would let all you fuckers be

     Drowning in your sea of blissful Ignorance

Refusing to see the Truth

     Right in front of your face ...

The problem is that the silence

     only causes more noise in my head:

          All the things you people could be

          All the potential you assholes refuse to see

And though I think it might be best

      To let you all drown in your misery

For some reason I want to save you all from

      The Truth that is coming so soon ...

So, for now, sit back on your sofas

     Watch your reality TV

Act like Nature will not make you

     Reap what you sow

The Universe is sick of your shit

     This place will come to a close -

          If you cannot open up your eyes ...

wake up - Wake up - WAKE up ... WAKE UP!

Americans in a Word (According to Several Sources)

Once upon a time, a schizophrenic, obese, bigot was strolling along an aesthetically divided street, contemplating democracy, when he found himself falling into a great big pothole!  The man thought to himself, “FUBAR” … because there was no way that he could make it to McDonald’snow before they closed, and his corporate-owned hunger pangs taunted him mercilessly.  Then, he realized that he was not just under the street, but in a beautiful cave, and he had the freedom to explore quite far.  As he rounded a corner several feet away from his irresponsible entrance into the cave, he happened upon a strange, little grey-bearded man.  The man, muttering something about revolution and lost republics, seemed surprisingly coherent despite his animation.  The bigot leaned in to listen more intently, and the old man turned around to face him and exclaimed, “You always have a choice … Apathy –BEGONE!”  He then realized that the old man had turned him into aphoenix, and he could now fly out of the dark cave.  After his ascension to the surface, the phoenix burst into flames and left behind a much thinner, less ethnocentric, intellectually stable young man with a passion for liberty. 

THE END.  ;-P

Use of Words 'Murklins' and 'Obacerate' in a Spontaneous Rhyme

Have you ever envisioned My side?

     Curves apparent even murklins, without a single spark!

Can you imagine My thighs?

     Nations have arisen from the ashes to fight anew for less ...

Have your dreams held the curve of My breasts?

     Causing men to obacerate and even holding them in death, Their rise and fall puts empires to shame!

Man fights wars and derives glory from battle,

     But Woman controls the field and drives them like cattle!