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Poem

When I whirl as wind, 
unwavering ~
 surfing on 
watercolor wings 
of simmering seasons, 
 which flicker
 and fly through me, 
filtering my faults
with a wrinkled fantasy, 
I waltz whistling ~
in their whispering waves, 
where the lachrymal leaf 
of loneliness lulls me
to a lavender sanctuary 
 of sanguine sentiments, 
beneath the drizzling doom
of sleepless stars. 
If there were 
a trinket tarnished 
with tulip-teals
of tasteless truths, 
tiptoeing over twilight
to traverse the 
ticking tickles of t i m e ~ 
I would be the sunset, 
chased by the 
suffocating silence 
of saffron storms. 

O' ruler of the reckless minds 
there's an empyrean inferno 
ignited around 
your devilish globe of diamonds ~ 
as there is always
a synonym for mirrorless miracles
which we feel in our bones, 
and the hierarchy
of hateful hyacinths 
is meant to be melted ~ 
by the melodious mints 
of magnolia mantras. 
We are n o t h i n g, 
but moments dissolved 
   in meditation, 
     clenched on the turmeric thread 
       of lustrous lemon love ~
slightly separated from the murkiness, 
  by the narrowed neon Nile 
      flowing in our intuitive isles. 
  
Luxury is lavishly luminous
before it beckons our beliefs, 
bleeding in our 
versatile constellations
of superconscious virtues. 
Perhaps, the skies too wonder 
if their sirens
 are blindly flawed 
with the fragrance of forgiveness, 
by the sailors of nirvana ~
for those who have
 never surrendered their sins 
before the sweven shimmers 
of our sublime soul-guardians. 
This hummingbird 
has her heartbeat
hushed in the haze of heaven
and I am deceased, 
a dawning dialect
in the scentless sunrise of life ~ 
for, every patriot of p e a c e, 
pirouetting in the 
ethers of ephemeral elixirs, 
is born from burning auroras, 
cascading upon
 the aurelian lips of angels 
aching within fractured letters 
of apocalyptic affection. 


                     "I'm h u m a n, 
        a honeyed heart-lily of light ~ 
                  carved within nylon notes 
      of the crestfallen nightingale, 
    clenched to the fist of fate 
            as it has always concealed 
            the stardust of my secluded solace. 
   Akin to the seven petals of prana, 
                my spirit shall b l o s s o m breath by breath, 
         seeping in the sepal shades of a crystal canopy ~ 
                   where enlightened I am,
      e v a p o r a t i n g through their veins 
                     in the essence of spiritual awakening... "
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