Empowered am I
Change of ideals
Knots to untie
The positive reveals
So much to do
No time to waste
Create an opus too
No cut and paste
I read and digest
Then spell out
A hypotesis to test
The title to shout
Will they read?
The ideas, new
A hybrid seed
For only a few
Let's start at home
Follow me, please
The rest can roam
Late, sagacity, seize
Acknowledgments.
My writing teacher who lit the fire,
my broken heart I had to repair,
my muse from the very beginning.
My insane desire to keep climbing,
my ambition that knows no bounds,
my taste that desires one in a million.
My shoes that will never need socks,
my spirit that is never on blocks,
my dreams that roll in with high tide.
My conspirators demanding gold,
my haters that are seething pyrite,
my copycats out doing their worst.
My feelings bubbling and determined,
my words filthy that make me gag.
My inner child that refuses reality.
My resilience and all that built it,
my reckless forcing me forward,
my microphone I share poetry on.
Thank you. A million times..thank you.
dulcet …
the night …
holds far too few hours
to attend you, pure … proper
in twilight reverence
your body’s song is my scripture
the braille my fingers ache to read -
sexy verse moonlight recites
and orates to my blood
longing’s lullaby
spoken glyph-by-glyph
and plopped like sugar on my tongue
where it attends …
yours …
speak to me with
your coy and curvy whispers
such fair flesh tells an epic tale, erotic
few know the language
but I am fluent
I will listen with an anxious ear
and reply in cursive on your dermal page
my game?
to raise those tiny little bumps -
catkin skin that jumps to
the touch, as my adept answers wind
their warm way south
to the source …
come, let time stand still
night is too fleeting
and a delicious pas de deux awaits -
a torrid tale of pillows and percale and
moonbeamed madness …
where minds and moans and motions are
met in one rapturous breath …
of breathlessness
ghostwriter … and manuscript
this tome is ours -
you and I … lost
to ourselves …
to each other …
to the world of whys and whatevers
and to everything …
but us.
Cantankerous cancers found my blood letting from the slit,
Is it avarice of me to desire the love begetting of Lazarus?
Enjoying life cadaverous like forgetting the want to live,
Is it glamorous for me to die while God desires I live?
Forgo the solid ground,
My feet dangled off the edge of a jagged cliff.
I fought the howl of squalid sin,
I caught the wind sending back the fire of my padded spliff.
Below I spotted a town,
My feet angled to squish what I saw down to the earth’s crusty skin.
Got calls asking where I’ve been.
Like,
“Just,
Just been wondering.”
Yeah yeah.
Yeah,
I guess you’ve just been wondering?
Could’ve made it better before I made it end,
Would’ve,
Should’ve,
But I wouldn’t have liked to make amends.
A couple foot of rope set up to further suspend,
Just to be an easy way out for whoever he is?
I misunderstood a friend on what is perpetuity,
I just want to live forever,
Instead I pretend to breathe on incongruity.
And as I descend upon,
I felt alive again when I grew dizzy.
I felt alive,
In my life,
I felt alive as I grew dizzy.
two singular heartbeats
emergent with fluttering exhalations
a tiny speck of time and temperature
rushing nowhere beside falcons
pausing breakneck together
i hear her wet whispers kissing
caressing deep lidless eyes
my heart knows the latitudes
understands the lay of the land
bestows a feast of electric night
giving flowers of touchings
receiving tongues of fire
inside this temple of ancient desire
emergent with breathless silences
two singular heartbeats
Melancholy melody of mania and madness.
Ceaseless Swan song a symphony of sadness.
Counter to composure comes cacophony of chorus.
Oscillating operatic overture of Opus.
Paint in your heart
the colors symphonic
Images dancing
each note brushed with fire
Clapping and cheering
rhythmatic ovations
The prisms last opus
—concerto’s desire
(Septa R5: December, 2023)
"stagnant pond paradox symphony No. 8 opus 21"
when all
was said
and done
it was just
tin
nit
us
He sat quietly to inscribe his winning piece.
No one knew it was his last.
But his memory lives forever
in the hearts of those he touched.
January 9, 2023
In Honor Of Milt - An Uncontest Poetry Contest (1st place)
Sponsored by: Andrea Dietrich
May my greatest feat,
My magnum opus be:
That I loved whole heartedly
And extraordinarily!
May those who knew me,
Know I loved thee best.
Pieces of glass shattered on the wooden floor
I maim my pointed finger; it bleeds and runs into my broken door.
Grief is timeless as it seems,
How evergreen to sculpture happiness in my dreams?
I’m beautifully made but devastatingly asking,
“What keeps you awake and keep on going?”
Life is an art that is crafted under a long process
They say it’s worthy to endure; just like how everyone else.
“You need to find hope in your disappointments and failures”
As nonchalant as mosaic, there’s beauty in life’s curvatures.
“Your insecurity is like a fake brush that loses your colors to paint”
Look how splendor the love and support around; need them to acquaint.
Just keep on going is what will keep me going.
For as long as I know that this beautiful life will keep me flowing.
Soon to be draped inside the room where decors and schemes are pretty simple,
I will be the masterpiece; a work of art that outstands like a steeple.
soaring melodies
I sing of wonderful times
yet to come, my friends
HONORABLE MENTION
"Submit Anything" poetry contest
All Poetry, November 7, 2021
written October 24, 2021
Parents by “Prophet”
Be the bow for their arrow
Unconditional
Mercury rising
breathless hormonal junkies
postnatal slavery
The afterlife station of poets in curfew time,
giving riches to ponder and to refrain.
Owls keep writing down all in posy found,
while stories of spirits rise from the ground.
Butterflies and Bees bussing the air,
pollinating imagination to the wisdom fare.
Glimmering images in still reply the whole,
where twilight enriches the soul in the soul.
Tempus nostra in spiritus Sanctus ignited,
imperishable wings of love united.
Golden words from the heart in depth,
to see inside the length of breath.
Amidst the lovers in deathless claim,
time in pulse of sensation tame.
The curled Moon wanders in occult position,
for the little rational disposition.
Church bells for the celestial train to arrive,
I got a ticket for the classic sphere to revive.
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