Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.
I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
redundancies and repetition,
items that people throw into the wind,
kick around and step upon.
I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn.
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.
Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.
The old man who sits in a rain-filled gutter,
seemingly oblivious to the water sluicing down the hill,
splashing against his clothes -
fists raised up to the heavens in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly beloved wife....
....I fell in love with him too.
I fall in love with things that some people deem as insignificant,
ugly, morose, dirty and immoral.
The more I fall in love, the more I love each passing moment,
including the pain, torture and misery that may appear along the way.
If I write down treasonously treacherous words,
the reader could assume such words to be rooted in rage
or a cynical outlook. But the words are actually born out of love -
I love every single word in existence.
Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while still maintaining the love I have already found.
I fall in love with the woman
who is too shy to have a proper conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be very ugly,
when in fact, she is an exquisitely gorgeous woman.
I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of rotting seaweed on the shore,
the way her hair smells baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
hypnotized by the essence the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat who after watching the moving truck drive away,
slunk around the alley in search of scraps -
over the years, she has proven to be
a most respectful and loyal animal.
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms when it shines
through the cracked antique windowpane
which I simply cannot find the presence to replace.
And as for the people who think that my love is a whole
different spectrum of emotions,
or how it is impossible for someone like myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day....
....well, I love them too.
April 6th, 2012
A feast for my womanly inner beast!
I tease, I please, you have me on my knees
I wring my hands, you oint my head
With your fingers locked in my hair of red
You, I call Master!
You have me in a position, as if I was begging for forgiven
My words are bashing with one stuttering sound
Moaning & Moaning,
As you make my head swirl like a merry-go-round
Craving for you to unleash your liquid heaven sound
My body speaks and mumbles a language only meant for you
A touch of intimacy, that lathers up like liquid glue
Sticky but, yet so compelling
My tongue slips silent beloved words of joy into the air
You play the master of this dark solid room
This dungeon has lighter, than one can consume
You engage me* to provoke you with everything I got
Yelling, please master don't ever stop!
At this moment I yearn for your excitement that whips out an appeal
To feel the closeness and arousing sensation of your presence
That melts me and chill me with a flow that does not kill
I'm your thinker
Your muse and poet
You are my composer creating liquid tunes
That expresses the hardness of your boldness
I confess to you my love
You are all I'm dreaming of
You drive your hands all over my body
Reaching every angle my steamy body lends
Encourage me to stimulate your mental needs
You are my master withholding a liquid element
In me you release fluids that hit like a silent tide
A desire that comes with a full force of the fire inside
I crave for the taste of your lips
Your hands on my hips
Your fingers with a tight sensual grip
I dedicate my heart, and my lust
To get lost within every push of your trust
Like a treasure deep underneath the sand
I'm addicted to the feelings you propose within your land
Your hazel eyes are my sunrise
You bring out the obsession,
And my sweet tooth temptation
Like the moon above a misty night
Seducing me in every way in a poetic write
YOU MY LOVE!!!
Your liquid heaven is like the beginning-
-Of my delicious delight!
**A sweet Dedication To Nate**
I often scribble in the sand
The words I find so hard to say
And hope the wind will come along
And blow them all your way.
Author: Paul Callus
Contest: Five Lines or Less
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
~The best poem ever~
Without saying a word I’m going to go where no one has gone before.
A twilight zone, only God and I know of.
Without saying a word I’m going to recite the best poems ever.
Poems with no vision too stare.
Quietly with a hum, only you can hear.
Silent through my mind I will walk whistling, without a care.
Feeling and thinking as my heart beat goes on.
Searching for your heart beat next to mine.
Dreaming of words that blind,
Dreaming of words which connect us together!
Without saying a word I’m going to look and speak for the first time.
Howl and feel as our chemicals sublime.
I’m going to get hungry before I die in your arms.
Through circles and rods, I carry this year alone.
Imagining all the days it was only you and I.
“Not only I!”
Without saying a word I’m going to listen for your voice to call my name.
A whisper that setting itself on repeat.
Anticipating, those look before you look away.
Wanting and waiting, I will still be whistling.
Overwhelmed by, fate at the door.
Without saying a word I’m going to, leave a whisper in the bedroom
Without making movement, with my mouth!
Control all the space, around me.
Touching the energy you left behind.
Hear the snowy winter chime.
Experience all the shelter in your hold.
Without saying a word I’m going to, lay down beside you.
Laying in a way, that feels better than freedom.
Millions of miles away, I’ll still be whistling.
And waiting and waiting, for that perfect lay.
Arguing and embracing the air we both breathe.
A breath for every reason!
Without saying a word I’m going to, mime the world tonight.
Over and over, till I mime the perfect poem, like the olden days.
Without a word to say!
I’m wrapping my own arms around me, like a mime.
Explaining the breath you took without me.
Talking to myself without saying a word!
Writing the perfect poem without a word to say!
Without saying a word I’m going to, yell this inside.
Whistle and mumble till I’m out of breath.
Dying with my dreams to be by your side!
Without saying a word I’m going to, close my eyes and see your face.
A bond not even death can break.
Without saying a word I’m going to, sit here, till your wind hits.
A tap that’s inspires the best poem ever.
Until then, I’m going to whistle without a word to say.
And enjoy your silhouette everyday.
Running through my mind,
Running through my veins,
A silica odor, dust walks through a fresh desert night,
Cool air beneath and above the sea.
A warm furnace smell, I don’t understand.
Intricate to rise and receive without knowing.
Up ahead in a virtue distance,
A mysterious poisonous effluvium light-
My face feels like a leaf'
My sun holds up its own pendulum rods.
Inflammation comes and settles in for the night,
There it stands in a pertinacious manner, with quality.
I resurrect this air created from madness, all over again.
Twilight, rain stranger than strange.
Visions, pursue my path into an infested dark pasture.
"From the red Heaven I fell into the waters of a cobalt Hell"
Perhaps this venerable moment, will pass slower than slow.
If I accept, and then decline.
Would this balance the precocious state I live in?
How about when wrong directions follow my promiscuous ways.
Is my conglomeration of ideas, no longer safe?
When I no longer value the values of the young.
Will I sleep at the mercy of his ancient heart.
They're the voices give and take from our health.
Today, those soft, perfect eyes are calling from far away,
Ashes high, vapors and infection welding me.
The bright skies swallow every thin silver line,
Where the clouds sit somehow~ in bacteria….
YES UNITY! Fantabulously-fantastic!
Always, wanting more than love can touch.
We are living' it up with no alibis!
A way to be and not to BE!
The champagne leaves their cup.
Awaken in a life, disturbed ~ NOW INTERRUPT!
Only in this world, lava will reach her lips.
Prisoners and doers;
All night…. Too late for a treatment.
Lungs, decaying, evil rats.
Direction, affection, ending all the inhalation.
Running through my lungs,
Flat-lined my life ____/\ /\___ ___/\______/\___ _______________
Shadowed in the silent room, the day is almost done
Dusk climbs in through the window glass, with one last ray of sun
I start the task, climb on a chair, reach up to shelves so high
to mother's boxes neatly stacked, as the dust gets in my eyes
I take one down, to look inside and sit upon a chair
I find some musty linens, laces needing some repair
I also find old photographs, the year was '42
Her face was smooth as porcelian, with life still young and new
Old documents and letters, a history unveiled
Her letters, torn and yellowed, such stories they would tell
The next box held some china, so lovingly embellished
And then I found a book of verse, inscribed with poems she relished
Some dresses stained and wrinkled, their fabric thin and tattered
Were once a thing of beauty, as if they really mattered
Her jewelry, gold and silver, some lovely rings and brooches
A warm sensation circles me, her presence now approaches
I sense a change come over me, and fleeting leave of gloom
The darkness of the evening lifts, as sunlight fills the room
She wraps her warmth around me, her fragrance in the air
The grief I've held is free to go, I know that she is there
Among these things, I find the last, the smallest box of all
Inside it are the baby clothes, I wore when I was small
A letter there to tell me that she knows the tears I've cried
Her words of love that never died, they fill me up inside
These treasures speak her words to me, and now that I am grown
She wants to tell her story, those parts I've never known
I've heard her voice, while sitting here, among her china flowers
I"ve found such peace, she's next to me, to spend these quiet hours
Passing through framed windows like ours,
I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends
that burned your innocence at 21... and though
you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes
poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted.
We both searched deeply into our souls
as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted
to let you know, it was alright;
but that mound of shoulders turned away.
Down the years as officer and gentleman,
Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair,
leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills
until you arrive under crawling dock of stars.
But in free moments, how you cherished
me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds,
to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon.
You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh
mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams...
until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel.
I see you through all framed windows like ours,
that even if my iced breaths needed you more
as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry
for love’s company... “ I have adored you
in moments of distance and nearness, if not
always, then for all eternity.”
Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh?
Dad, everything is all right.
The Confessional Contest
When a heaven cracks and stars go to sleep
Morning so incredibly quiet -
A peaceful morning - the sun's rays meet my gaze
I listen to the peace - to its eternal rest - and I think
that this moment must forever be in my heart
My eyes filled with clear and clean blue sky
So beautiful quiet morning - a fjord bright as a mirror
. . . I'm missing my words
Happiness rustling through the blood
and awakens my senses
I float among the clouds and angels
picks diamonds like they were candy
The sun glows in all its glory
The words are no longer in my power
A-L Andresen :)
His poems live deep down in the wood
down in an olde hunting lodge
They are brown as the bears head that
hangs on the wall
brown as the dark leaves that fall
silently hiding the salt lick
from fawns who come in
the twilight to call
His poetry growls and grumbles and purrs
like a cougar alone on the rim
of the canyon above the olde
where he writes all his lines
like a hymn
His poems stretch out on the furs
by the fire
and tell of the storms and the waves
that tested the strength of the words
and sent many songs to their graves
for brave are the sagas
the odes that survive
the trek through the woods to the town
and as we go home we gather them up
scattered like leaves on the ground.
Brown,yellow,red ,a few of them green
His poems are places and things we have seen
but not from the view that the truth hunter gives
deep down in the woods ,where poetry lives
If I had a pretentious brain
which acts faster than my heart
Maybe then,I would abhore this soul
which spreads freely through each verse
Maybe then I would impress you
with my intellectual grammar
and sophisticated words
I would scrutunize
each and every coma
dot and exclamationmark
believing I know best
But I would never let that happen
I'd rather stay at bay
Writing firstly with my mind
and not my heart
leads only to an asylium
within the being of myself
Poetry is my voice,my shadow
The sacred shrine of great escape
Each stored emotion processed
within a yesterday
Poetry is the inner of my existence
breathing softly,bleeding deeply
exploding in death,love
passion and romance
In every verse a whisper
a thought that I would scribe of
a silent cry expressed
Maybe in a tomorrow
you might pass by me
Tread your footstep on my ink
and spit saliva in my face
But maybe in a today
a broken -hearted fool stops by
to find comfort in my world
Maybe a prisoner,a tramp
an insane soul or outcast
would pick these scattered scribbles
and gather them as whole
Maybe through each criss-crossed puzzle
finds a narrow passage
which leads his faith to home
Maybe a little child
whose blissful giggles
depends on little words
would turn the dusty pages
of silly rhymes I penned
Rhymes which know the moons
stars,faries,and the magic land
Rhymes which know each fantasy
and how to be a friend
And maybe He would smile
Maybe He would laugh
Maybe He would dream
Maybe He would grow up to write
the most eloquent sonnet
there has ever been
Or maybe He would grow up
to write simple words
just like me
about daises or dandelions
and expressions to be free