Make no haste,
your work is restless.
Aeon give me pause--
no more ticking
ever towards the
Live the now.
Even Death took
veering briefly from an
eternity of reaping
Take your time
on earth and
Aeon is another name for Chronos, the greek god of time.
My desire is not for chocolates…
just for the taste of you
so sweet on my tongue
(it lingers there as Ghirardelli does)
Do not give me pink stuffed bears
if your arms will hold me
on these tossed sheets
(embrace me tight and bridge this space)
I send (eyes open)
crimson shed wishes
on passion tossed seas
and warm tender kisses
I plead on my knees
Blood red hearts ooze on this page
Every beat…(feel its rage)
My heart emits
a whisper on your wind
(catch it please)
Unearthed flowers are useless…
they wither away
into the dust….
(though, calla lilies...if you must)
you are eternal…..
I want no message
bought from hallmark
(much too sterile)
Spill on pages words from you
the breath of life to me
Your heart….it is my reason....
It reflects a sliver satin shatter
dusting in my own
A voice…it seems…
I have always known
Giggles on the pillow
Hushed morning voices
Precious tender moments
lost inside your eyes
Kiss me awake
with all your hunger
(lips of desire)
Catch this fire!
Tempt me hotly
with your touch
I’m still afraid
when I feel this much
Make me mindless
for suspended moments
your dazzling brilliance
Flames of burning
and rich ruby red
(much like the sunset sky)
“Good morning….my valentine…
and good night…too”
I will drink red wine
and dream of you…
In sweet rainbows colors
if your were mine....
Through telescope eyes...
Run, run, run as fast as you can...
I'm still gonna get you, my little green man...
I grabbed on to the gold buckle on his waist...
I held him down, with no time to waste...
I tied The Leprechaun to a hollow tree,
Broke off a branch and poked him on the knees.
I kept on poking him with a stick.
I kept nagging him to reveal his magic trick.
This little shamrock kid would not break.
He kept insisting THE LEPRECHAUN legend was fake.
This little odd dwarf kept lying about his mythical pot of gold.
I kept repeating all the stories I've been told..
Nagging him and nagging him~ FOR HIS POT OF GOLD!
He lied, about the fables, telling me his gold does not exist...
The Leprechaun refused to hear the clover list...
It's been 7 days!
And, still he won't give up, what's at the end of the rainbow.
Tickling his little Eskimo toes,
Running feathers underneath his nose.
"Look you little green treasure troll, I've captured you, and demand the gold!"
"You won't get me with your tricks!"
"So don't even try to outwit me with your silly MAGIC!"
I suppose his silver-tongue, will have to do,
And the little gold buckles on his shoe.
I got tired of trying to make him see, my point of view.
I got a better deal and trade for a monkey at the zoo.
Now the lions are enjoying a Pot of Leprechaun Stew.
Nothing I did, made him unfold.
All I wanted was his pot of gold!
We`re on our way
Visiting good old friends from Norway
Now living in Turkey
Its the smiling country
We got everything we need..and more so
Romantic evenings with candlelights on the table
Eating out everyday,and watching the perfect sunset
The scenery is beyond spectacular
Not so nice sceneries comes sneaking into my thoughts
TV news shows an infant,shot to death..right through her chest
Another infant penetrated by grenade splints,now laying dead on a table
Her father screams in pure anger,anxiety and endless grief
More than 200 innocent civilians found,sliced to death by the army
Schools..hospitals are being used as canon targets
Civilians being forced to walk infront of tanks..defenceless kids most of them
Just in case resistance groups should make any attempt to stop these heavily armed forces
They are used as living targets
All within the hour from a holiday paradise in Turkey
Tears are shed for you..brothers and sisters
Your life is bleeding out of you..but your spirit will fight `til the bitter end
How cruel..How unfair it all is in this world
My thoughts and prayers are with you Syria
April 4th 2012
*Would you Could you, Be My Valentine*
A Simple yes or no would do!!
could you be mine?
To: ALL the poets on the soup
From: The Poet Destroyer
<3 <3 <3
There’s nothing all that scary
about a jack ‘o lantern.
It’s just a hollow pumpkin
with customary mouth, nose and eyes
carved to form the usual wry face. . .
Imagine that same pumpkin
on Halloween night - lit up on the porch
of some dark and eerie lonely worn out house.
And there’s no one there but you!
You approach the door but get a strange vibration
this is not a house for trick or treating!
No one seems to be there, and yet. . .
as you turn to go, you are sure that you can see
writhing worms and cockroaches
come crawling from the flashing eyes
and the grinning orifice of that pumpkin face.
And you can almost swear,
as your skin turns into goose flesh,
that you hear that bad Jack snigger,
his bright eyes trained on you as you rush off.
He’s laughing at the humanness in you.
What keeps me awake
When the cool breeze bears whispers of things to come
Promises to be fulfilled on the morrow?
Is it my joyless moment of cognizance
knowing that this stagnant night ripples from no real breeze
Only imagined promises birthed on the whims of a longing heart?
Yet, what keeps me awake
is not these dreams of flattering winds
but it is this night of lifeless branches and unrifled leaves
the lack of real whispering winds taunting my heart
What truly keeps me awake
Is the silence of tomorrow.
Across the land he strides this night,
Amide the living and the dead.
He goes confidently in search of a fight,
Harboring no amount of dread.
He seeks those going bump in the night,
Including the living dead.
Cross bow at ready with hidden knives,
He’ll clear this land he’s said.
Wow to the wicked on Hallows Eve,
Be careful as you run amuck, and hide wherever you will…
For Van Helsings aim is straight and true,
As is his beating heart, a rare few have ever imbued.
And of course those magnificent fighting skills…
No one can ever outdo.
Consider well your choice of path between evil and the good,
For Van Helsing’s waiting right ahead…
To take good care of you.
Contest: Halloween Night
He, the Master of all living beings,
wonders why he’s been shut out.
It is the free will He gave us at birth
that allows us to block out His intentions.
Jesus came to Earth as a Savior,
born in a manger’s tiny crib.
It’s His birth we celebrate on Christmas Day,
but the meaning of this holiday is hidden
by plastic trees with glittering lights,
designed to make each heart feel bright.
But it doesn’t work, does it?
The gifts, the stress, the obligations
come around each year in December.
When we take Christ out of Christmas,
we stow Jesus away in a forgotten box
*Entry for Curtis’s contest
Our dreams begin to open on the ninth floor
of the Marines Memorial Hotel.
Clean tombs equipped with all that is needed
for a weekend to die for.
Guests view what they can see at their level.
Flags wave from rooftops of skyscrapers,
like spring flowers praising the high winds.
Below a jungle of souls
in hypnotic allegiance flow past
concrete fields choked with roads.
Fatigued, dormant dreams weakly climb
praying to continue, to go on,
Hoping to recognize
silence as it sings a sacred invitation
to follow the fire of morning.
In our room we listen to the
television flicker between old graying movies
and a war in Kosovo.
At the window we have the luxury to turn away. . .
and witness the massacre of our afternoon.
Hail stones bullet the sunlight,
day bleeds pools of darkness.
Night falls to the light
Colors resurrected in our hearts
glow triumphant, emblazoned with life.
Who do you tell what your heart sees?
Who would believe the sound of it?
Oh Love, Oh Light--
"Please stay with us,
for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over." luke 24:29