Words of an action and actions of words
Are vessels swathed in seas of intention.
Neither are law and either are deferred
To in conflict's caustic condescension.
Nothingness stranding an eternal core,
Enveloping the wildfire of the soul,
Extinguishes hope with a silent roar.
Divide me from the warmth, leave me in coal.
Over the sheer precipice of desire,
Riots break out in free fall to dictate
Being as a tool in fulfillment's mire,
Opens distinctions on which to fixate.
Tell me, or won't you, that I'm beautiful;
How's my faithfulness inexcusable?
Tag: struggle
Patroclus
Island child, you cry,
Life-despised, but Fate
Has a cheek softer
To offer your state.
Raw and flawed, its law
Does slaughter us all
In the end, but grants
Glances ere we fall.
Alas, castaway,
The mast passes on.
The blank horizon
Reminds you what's gone.
Yet a treasure more
Precious invests life,
One you've never seen,
The meaning for strife.
Nothing such as him
Came under your view,
And never has he
Seen glee but in you.
Your own loneliness
No one showed akin
To, his aloofness
The same proof within.
Island abiding
In your sigh; inside
His ear or his heart
Something starts to guide.
You hoped to be close,
But no one approached.
He wasn't enthused
Until you were broached.
His aim was to play
The same game as you
When he saw the face
That paced his heart's cue.
Your deep, sleepless eyes
Leap from their rich seats.
He sees what could grow
From their woe as sweet.
The mystery's thrill
Stills your breath but throws
Your heart into throbs:
He thinks of us—those?
Can you see his need?
Why me? you ponder,
Until the doubts fly
While you both wander.
The forest's courses
You'll tour together;
On roots in the shade
You'll lay at leisure.
The trees' canopy
Reaches down, as leaves
Land within your lap;
Both laugh, both believe.
The classroom after
Hours when Math was done,
He and his guitar
Charming you with strum;
And his royal voice
Rejoicing in song
Is this prince's soul
You hold in your palm.
On the beach where each
Of you fell speechless
Seeing your bodies'
Hypnotic features.
The moon's rays breaking
On waves and on spray,
Each of his contours,
Conjures sparks of gray.
Lain on silver sands,
His pale muscles swell;
And his waist, so slim,
Casts a perfect spell.
For his part, his heart
Starts at your soft, dark
Eyes. Beneath the bright,
Starry night they spark.
Side by side from now
On, at night in bed,
Lying with his face
Placed right by your head;
At dawn when his yawns
Sing songs while you rise,
He proves with his touch
So much of your eyes.
Culpable
I said I'd be culpable
For ruining your evening
Bemoaning my multiple
Bites, instead I'd be leaving.
Rather than to aggravate
You, I went to get relief
From a cream to acclimate.
Then my mistake was belief.
I thought I could reappear
And share the backyard again.
I was acting cavalier,
Yet the moment would descend.
I truly am gullible;
They bit me and you, enraged,
Stormed off as I, the un-sage,
I said I'd be culpable.
My sheer house
My sheer house is miniscule,
But here and now a lyric
Could take sublime molecules,
Make time's victory pyrrhic.
I give you this offering:
How I lived, a wish afloat
On songs of hope, softening
The wrongs which our scopes promote.
My dream to be feminine,
To see myself seem pretty,
A princess with eminence;
Pinced instead: what a pity.
I grew into depression,
My true self refused, repressed.
Desire became obsession;
To my shame I was possessed.
My own eating disorder
Bound up a need for starving,
Alcohol, and discordant,
Maladaptive wrist carving.
Death was posing constantly,
Its threshold closing around
Each moment of wantingly
Reaching, alone and unfound.
But I'm alive, shockingly,
I survived at rock bottom.
He found me worth pocketing,
Crowned my cursed head with autumn.
Before I was untethered,
Poured my puzzled blood weeping;
When he brought us together,
He bent thoughts that lie creeping.
A half-dozen medicines,
A path that wasn't direct
At last mounted reticence,
Perhaps found something correct.
We shacked up through manifold
Setbacks, yet we grew happy
Trusting plucky animals,
Our muscovy ducks' flapping.
There's still the same confusion.
Will you blame that I re-slept
My years' yearning delusion?
I've merely learned to accept.
I've lost and gained employment,
I've tossed the rains from islands
To focus love's enjoyment;
A voice spoke above violence.
I'll never be omniscient;
So I must weather demons,
Though I fear I'm deficient.
I know my sincere reasons.
I'm not very capable
But caught a merry lifeline.
If even I'm shapeable,
Could seasons prime our lifetimes?
To mention that important
Question: what matters really?
Is self-knowledge supporting
My shelf of solid feeling?
Am I truly self-aware,
Can I duly note defects
In myself that interfere
With my health's tender reflex?
Have I built my quality
Which sadness wilted above;
Deeply lies my policy:
To keep those I call beloved.
Peace
Peace is knowing unease Recedes; and woe, once the wave Which swallowed old continents, Shall fall for the bold and brave. Strength is trust in loving's Length, justice, and equipoise. Ridges rise as miracles Bridge islands and wrecks rejoice. Virtue waits in patience, Hurts abate and sorrows cease. Souls of mercy float, finding Mirth extolled by prophet peace.
AC Issues
I'm so sorry the AC bit the dust.
Hopefully it's just a water buildup,
Though I fear we may have abused the gust-
Inducer which perhaps may be filled up
From overuse. And you stayed up so late
Washing clothes and towels, all for my sake;
For your help the world sees it fit to bake
You in your own home. As always, your fate
To be left behind while I go to work,
Which in this heat seems rather an escape.
I pray the trio of fans is enough
To lessen the burden of the heat's drape
Upon the sweaty bed of comfort's spite.
With luck, by evening it won't be so rough,
Dad's shop-vac could have it working tonight.
Prisoners
It's hard to love a prisoner, I know,
I too was locked away before we met.
The flower shut in a box will still grow,
But not to bloom: its fruit is regret.
I know you can find your freedom yet;
You don't have to change yourself quite so much.
Only give yourself the courage to bet
On your desires without needing to clutch
Expectations of them. Our kind are such
That define and find our passions in pains
And restrictions; I admit there's a touch
Of attraction to lows, a kink for chains.
If you tie me up, I'll free you for fun.
We're prisoners of what we haven't done.
Would you love me if I were a worm?
"Would you be able to love me still,"
I ask him, "if I were a worm?"
"What do you mean by that, of course I will,"
He says, " I think I'd like you more in turn."
"I'm glad your love for me's so firm,
"But that was not what I was hoping for."
"Then why did you lay it out in such terms?"
"I don't know, I thought the scope would be more
"Assuring me I'm nothing close to a poor,
"Squirming worm," is my confused reply.
"Then you shouldn't give me that open door.
"If you were a worm, it wouldn't change my side:
"Either way you cannot help me escape,
"But I love you in any form or shape."
Come and shake the dust out of your hair
Come and shake the dust out of your hair,
You wallower—even in my dreams—
Take a bit of golden glare
From mine and tie it to the sunbeams
Refracting in your eyepair's blue gleams.
Allow me to rest in your plaintive gaze
While outside the sudden sun shower streams.
Thunder doesn't disrupt the rays,
And sorrow needn't cloud our days.
Light can be produced by sharing a kiss;
Warmth can be fostered together in praise
Of each other's touch and soul-tenderness.
All raindrops splash the shield of our embrace,
My treasure plainly hidden in your face.
Cadmeian Dream
Cadmeian dream where do you hide,
dream of founding conquerors?
Novel ideas glinting beside
innovative conjurers;
Narrative man, marionette,
dance a jig we haven't seen.
Reveal things we'll never forget
when their forms in shadows lean.
Discovery bright magnetize
kindred soldiers to a fate
Inspired, driven to strategize
campaigns toward something great.
Where's the ancient magic now,
once from caves of numinous
Mystique? What are we to allow
prophecies so ruinous?
Almost everything is given,
leading us, fascinated
To the hollow shells we live in:
blank slates, deracinated.
Almost everything we're burning,
and we know the fuel won't last.
We're capable of discerning
danger but speeding too fast.
What have we left now that we've thrown
it all in for knowledge? We
Toil to relearn what we've disowned
pursuing technology.
Technology is not what matures
insights, compassion, or trust;
Rather it's a pipeline for tours
of infrastructural rust.
Culture is gone America,
schizophrenia and ads:
Our tradition generica
of attention-seeking fads.
Recognition at any price;
everything exists to sell
Cult-of-personality heists,
hallmark of our living hell.
What's authentic and what is not,
and more importantly—who?
This pre-apocalyptic spot:
nothing revealed, all on view.
Systems and secrets, sabotage
lurking at the rainbow's end
Sculpt from the mists a drab mirage,
and the powers play pretend.
Or are we the real pretenders,
gaming life to build a sense
Of importance? We upenders
who'd shake up our portents' fence?
Flattened, diluted, left to run
aimlessly, as in a dream
Whose conditions are cunningly spun
for a big business's scheme.
So what are we, and who am I,
what makes of me a Cadmus?
Why should people rally to my
ideas of joy and sadness?
Yet Cadmus did know who he was,
let his nation come from fate;
Clearing my own self-concept's fuzz
is enough to contemplate.
A place for my poems 