The Pink Swan of Pleasure

This night, I sit at vigil with desire
Remembering your love-cries that echoes
In my solar cavity, when we
Danced in the sea of pleasure
Bathing in the primal soup of full measures
And deft openings, where

The world became the purest joy
And our hearts trembled with excitement
Our eyes spoke then with our enflamed parts
And our bodies were tied in a worldly embrace
You sat on me like a fortunate lover
Smiling with all of your body, a cellular delight

And we revised how to kiss, and how to
Surrender ourselves to the fury of physical love
Sighing and dying, we wooed a lover’s destiny
There and then, back into our lives
Breathless and worn out, only morning could end
With her white light, the laughter
Of how we knew ourselves, in each other.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Dreamcatcher-403990395

Force for Union

With the pulse of night
I will enact in us, the first movement –
We will slip and flood and
Perhaps embrace, an act of union

To-night, a bit like all nights
With the necessity of being passionate
Culminating in our inexorable care
I am still imperially strong & male

With a colony of youth still bursting within
And senses to witness your body
Even if I have grown older, my brain
Carries with it a legacy of evolution

An act that sprouts so unilaterally free
The rendering of procreation
In a process of beating at your borders
Fluid across your waters, with treaties of peace
Ready to build colonies through caresses of skin.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/milos-island-a-different-world-404266901

Requiem for Everyone

Everything has its own hour
Where loved, treasured, not sold –

becomes our everything for a time
Until ‘nothing can last forever’ becomes
the day, the month, the mysterious year
where fate can unravel in a turn

So be it, looted, betrayed, traded, doomed
Our life is a mystery of cherry perfume

of laughter and fountains, transparent
as the constellations which depict
the cosmic story of individuality
miraculous, dark and the stories

We have always known until they
Happen to us, we encompass everything
Eaten by time’s hunger, under the wing of stars.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/colours-of-nature-404205374

to the sweet countrymen of subjectivity

I’ve renounced life for art
as I once renounced love
for spirit, expecting a presence
of universal love to redeem me

art has no rewards but Just Sunrise
seeing beauty in atoms
with a larger function of gratitude

I’ve renounced expectation
for freedom, finding music in silence
friendship in history, truth in words

that seemed as common as
bulbs of silver lit up in evening
scantily dressed with another day’s death

I’ve renounced faith for hope
a scarlet experiment of hunting
the future instead of living in the past

this is my letter to the world
the simple news that is never old
I’ve renounced pleasure for a life-goal

since tender majesty cannot be too selfish
and long-term pleasures carry a destiny
of spirit, working for a presence
of universal love that exists without me.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Golden-Gate-unchained-404119060

Intervals of Living Happily

I am excited to face morning
blue morning with all the happiness
that the world can contain
this is my maximum of joy

my interlude of peace
O Sun how happy and not carefully
expecting the best of the
many others I will see, the other selves

the nymphs of delight, all sharing
some mood of eternity
our goals are rosy limbs of
the species, our closed wells of

treasured value, the stamp
of what we once held dear –
I am excited to face morning
with you, do you remember laughter

that opened large bright eyes and gazed
like an archangel expecting fiery swords
of light wielded in ways
i cannot explain, the impossible play

of colors at dawn, that dangles infinity
on a rope that became the flesh
of my young children, singing and playing.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kohnio-III-404152924

Lost worlds of writers & being

Our words are lost worlds
where we may never come again!
a thousand fragments for

each person, thoughts that pass
everything will pass, said the Seer
the boats inscribe our circles

the fish lead us to our new world
the day there’s not a single gull
the world will sink, in change

hang on, words will leave you
memory’s roots will drift
across an inkless body, your hands

which once yearned for flutes in frost
for flowers on branches of other worlds
will find being and form in

the imagination that comes from
another kind of life, musical torture
for language, that is never fully at home

to express spirit, to re-live all that has
been lived, and which can never fully
come again, alone in the sun

we are all unique, you write:
i am the self like all other selves
that draws beauty in the night.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Ocean-50422805

The original alphabets

We are pollen, all we do follows
the flight of flowers of the rock
facing the ancient green sea
our culture remains distributed

a glowing meme of what we loved
and how others perceived us
glowing with our brief life-purpose
flowers of the rock, figures drawn
by some divine hand for a mortal hour

We are pollen, all we do follows
the sun above pine-trees, planets silenced
after centuries of greed, life is all the same
we cannot assume flowers and organisms
on other worlds behave so differently

We are pollen, the flying meaning of youth
hunting for the adaptation that is legitimate
that will learn to survive on some secret seashore
Greece is dying, once a birthplace of renaissance
Spain is haunted, once fountain-ground for colonization

We are pollen, all we do follows
footsteps of our thirst at noon
the water of our being circulated
for writing vanished, cities under layers
desires and passions as legitimate as yours

we lived our lives mistaken, in error
so we changed our life or became extinct.
we wrote humanity’s name in the sea-breeze
but the sea-breeze knew we would not live forever.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-setting-sun-from-the-Tokyo-sky-tree-404168103

I had no rest against her autumn cheeks

Autumn closes in on me
Soft as the bed in the earth
Cool as marble above the clouds
Her arms and her hands bleed

Red & orange maples, rain on leaf
The smell of rich damp pores
A cloak of darkness before cold
The chilly air bringing dark to

My eyes with her lack of usual sunshine
Autumn closes in on me
Bringing me into a spiritual transitional
State, the quiet time together

Of pondering what was, in buds of what will be
I am swollen with change for
Her racing weeks of busy months
Like the pounding of horses in the mud

I awake to find leaves have changed
They have fallen in groups of colors
To form the imaginary kingdom of
Mountains of mirth, sometimes I believe

We all invent our kingdoms
To cope with all of life’s many states
So the body of autumn might detain me
So I might bare my branches for art.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Motherland-Chronicles-34-In-the-Secret-Garden-404198254

Lyrics in Recession

This horrible but superb painting
Is modern society faltering badly
the autumn empire of greed falling
an economic diagonally downward spiral

it’s october and I’ve found anticipation for a day
the pure diversion of the eternal present
it will be all gone soon enough
This splendid but tragic superb music

of living without justice and competing
nestling the alarms of a hush-throated society
I will close the doors of sense and world-news
for a humbling sort of use of poetry

to satiate the lyrics that internally glisten
for the new creation of some future’s
giant transforming wing, for minds
and youth to whom all anguish has been mended
to live or not to live, in a better world.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Lightness-of-Being-404173536

It is your choice

Embrace mystery, relish in the unknown
rejoice in the experience of knowing less
and loving more, the infinite depth

of oneness in multiplicity, unity in diversity
The Universe is mysteriously great
rejoice in the metaphors of large and small

and loving more, creation is boundless
once you have started appreciating miracles
the mundane seems slow and unremarkable

once you have started seeing beauty everywhere
the beloved in everyone, bliss in every touch
ugliness and disharmony disappear –

Embrace creation, relish in the event of witnessing
if you start looking at life with a formidable joy
how much of your sad existence would disappear?

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Age-of-Aquarius-167732452

Meditation exists at the frontiers of experience

You are not your mind
You do not belong to your body
Move in freedom and do that
Which brings you total freedom

Each moment give in to the new
Drop the past, the anxiety
That accumulate with restriction
Unlearn the past, so that you may

Learn to die in living a bit further
You are not your mind
You do not belong to your body
You are a soul totally alive

Throbbing, pulsating, streaming
A quantum intelligence beyond
The brain, society, species, of your experience
You are a spiritual organ in a network

Let your ambitions and attachments go
For power, prestige, desire, money
Will not lead you to the pure freedom
Meditation exists when you listen to silence.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Autumn-mood-403551984

With Specimens of Song

– Where Hart Crane once jumped

You love the invisible
You write IT everyday
You claim your little notes
Further the language of the Day

With ample letters, of your love
To witness the light which delights
The air is clear and transparent
Where your voice speaks like a melody

Your love is for the invisible
With incorporeal pillows vain
Your sunrise is a spiritual event
Somewhere inside your little brain

Your love, it is for the invisible
A dreamer interrupting his own ground
You write journals for eternity
God bless your suddeness
that which you call dear poetry.

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bridge-at-night-II-403312876

To a Heart so desperately in Port

I am oppressed by Cathedral tunes
Of another age, or am I so ancient thus?
Carrying a Heavenly Hurt

From life to life, like a thief –
With little internal indifference
And hugged purple scars

That give me my cup of meaning
For the water of brief identity
It’s an imperial affliction to be

A part of a world you don’t believe in
A species, that made wrong choices
There’s shadows everywhere

Hold your breath, do not partake
In the look of death, though it kills you
Without a sound, this is the life

We have been given –
the appalling calculations, as a
Funeral on the road, with

No pennies for flowers
Without self-forgiveness on wild nights.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Sunkissed-0469-399845418

I Admonish Thee

Hope is the circumference of life
Faith is the circle of the fall
Creation the mighty exponent of
Oxygen and water, blood and time

History notes love is posterior
To fate, that seal of light
That spreads what we were
And mixes it with the cycles
*
That never stop, only recede to start again
Revelation cannot end with
Going blind, we learn to listen
Silence is the jewel of posterity

The future, the brimming Deity in our eyes
Perhaps we ask too large a place
No less to explore the furthest skies
Hope remains the circumference
*
Faith ends all beliefs of smaller bundles
Creation the happening where we exist
Open to all accidents of loss
Yes, oxygen, water, blood, time
These too will be taken away.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/autumn-sun-402106762

I fumbled at my nerves on Earth

I am a living acre without design
an apparent order of action in anonymity
this wind and sun are my neighbors here
i yet attain a shadow or of a squirrel

a silent truce with general nature
and the idea of a plan, severely retarded further
by the poignant excess of luxuries to the few –
I am a living care of temporary possession

an apparent cause of love in union
this landscape and tree are my playmates here
i yet attain a shadow or an art of flower
a silent truce with universal chance

it might be famine all around, but we still
live from smile to smile, by happiness
and small wonders fed, the years
i have been without a home.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/girl-emotion-401831549

Felicity of Doom

Death and conscience, O’ she –
Will easily classify achievement
Achievement being a forgetful thing

Dare you saw a few souls
Deep straight down, a white heat
Of harmony at the best & worst of times?

Then crouch within the door
Of possibility, and listen for –
The metaphysics of vanished others

Who mysteriously appear and suddenly
Take leave, we quiver at the forge
Of the social fire’s flame, that unanointed Blaze

Where we marry others for a moment in words
And sacrifice a bit of ourselves, to please
Death and conscience, O’ she will –

Easily disseminate our mutualities
Love being the most memorable things
It is not a question of who or stability

But how much did we give & love
On what Anvil did we place our heart
That celestial soundless tugged-of-within.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Amaranth-402725392

the Taste of Poverty

A Day! Help and yet another day
Where if prayers were as passer-byes!
They do not greet me, what a world

Such as this, deserves less prayers
More acts of startled selfishness
Might date a victory, in some forgotten

Future, where the past is no longer remembered
These nations and empires and economies
Do not steady my worrisome soul

My psyche was not built for war
Or angel-worn prosperity, I eat
The hopping-sideways for miracles

My life a quiet volunteer work
Of learning empathy in such hurried grounds
My velvet mouth chasing crumbs
With the taste of beauty and divinity

Lingering in my mouth, silver steam
Turmeric and ginger tongue-bells
Garlic butterflies off to the fragrance of noon.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/e-n-d-o-f-t-h-e-d-r-e-a-m-s-403349873

on Being Other Centered

I scarce esteem the business of a name
Time and being, too closely knelt –
To be somebody is surely
A bondage, as a play, the debts

Of somebody else’s keeping
In some spaces, imprisonment
With other co-conspirators, sweet
I scarce esteem my time on the Earth

Less with my comrades
Few and far-between though they call –
Bring my past despair, those
Bands of spice, talks or reckoning

So I may take flight from these
Boundaries of sense-in-pain
For consciousness is thus sandwiched
Between Eternity and time, and others

I can do without time and Eternity
Enough to be at heart with beloveds.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/In-The-Pouring-Rain-403324988

Autumn Festival of Dawns

I have kissed the Autumn dawn
laughed at the blond of her lips
running beneath the orange finger-tipped red
half-moon, the vital breath

of silver summited dew glistening
on the stones of marble
the damp violets enslaving conclusions
of winter’s breath over the last butterflies

I have kissed the meadows of october
laughed at the clouds dissolving
through a pillar of the treasured-sun
running through the breeze against

the memories of a few dozen autumns
it all comes first circle as life dissolves
but beauty remains a poor man’s dream
it comes every Autumn like an old traveler
ready to submit to red and gold.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Home-is-where-the-love-is-403015730

Winter

Winter
How long have we known each other?
On the ground
Bare and with throaty snow
Flakes to fall on my stubble

Of all the aches I held dear –
Dragging your silver-shine
Through long hard months
Of the northern-land
Into apparent hibernation

Winter
You know my white shield
Of my held heart
Like a held-hand
Of another’s inner-spring
I sell my cattle
To eat my plants for another day
Teas that light me up from the inside

Winter
Breaking thin branches
I know your cloudy days
Won’t last forever, just an empty space
In my memory
As if I were snapped from my roots with ice
My foundations of rock
Glowing thick with harvests of water
That will trickle down
Into a luscious spring-bed.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Winter-139159678

Prayer Untitled

Prayer is the last response
Of presence when life is denied
So to remain quiet

Is sometimes next to God’s ear
Watching and listening
The last apparatus

Of apparent prosperity
For to own is not permanent
Anything can be taken away

A spirit-diamond trance
Can problem solve
The symmetry of misfortune

Prayer is the last response
Of an unconditional force of happiness
Too infinite is consequence

For us to seize destiny by the throat
Prayer is the easiest sport
When our slow capacities deploy

A crude response to vivid nature
So to act is not always wise
Then do we notice things overlooked

Our mind italicized by light
That darkness be prerequisite
To spirit’s final room

As narrow time’s jostle between
What we once called life & death
Bent to water, till we died

Prayer is the last response
When belief no longer regulates
The perception of our undue significance.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Skyfall-403075862

Ode to Virgins

A girl to a man is an ascended tree
Who bears the most magnificent fruit
The tree has grow in my breast
Downward like arms of moss

Trees you are, nourished glee
Moss you are, ravished romance
A chill of violets in the wind
A girl to a man is the folly of the world

The gift, the goal, the great deception
A virginal biological imperative
Like heroin, a dopamine-testosterone high
For the spoils of estrogen and smiles

Slight her arms that stealthy subtle clearness
Her vague ethereal beauty, so remarkable
A girl to a man is the twin peaks of the world
The reminder of April’s shooting branches
The white bark of skin, the young lady’s hours.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Kika-403043718

An open Autumn Day

Autumn leaves lie strewn in October
With the hopes of childhood’s day
That are now so faded and decayed
Happy moments fled, do they come again?
Forgotten, changed or dead –?

All over the gardens shrink
Memories impress with their wild colors
Birds sing with buried scents under wings
Honey is made, above where children play
Autumn leaves lie strew in October

Corn, watermelons and pumpkin pie
The fruit must be kept for another day
Autumn is the season where I cannot forget
What came in Spring and blossomed in Summer
Autumn is the secret I can never tell –

With the hopes of dreams treasured beyond all
The dark of the gentle winds that blew
Behind Autumn rain, a new world breaks forth.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/autumn-328739751

Thou Hast Made Me

Thou hast made me, a holy poet
What is this work, to observe and not despair?
And all these pleasures are mere words
Of yesterday, dim eyes any way
Of visions that run to death, from self to self –

But I rise again, in new forms
With poems that can myself sustain
Like breath and proven art
Thou has made me, a grand imitator
Of names in history, of verse

That contributes repair, spiritual repair
Repair me then, my little words, until
My end doth haste and in terror of feeble flesh
I must part, saying goodbye to all I was –
What is this work, to entertain and listen

Listing all that is below, without knowing
What is above, or how adamant drew my own heart
These are not holy sonnets, but all titles I must resign
Even being published, only a loose
Temple of my spirit divine, ravished in thy sight

For all paths that do converge I have found
Are found in uniting words, language pure
That I might in holy discontent simplify
For all coming ills have been pre-ordained
Though hast me thus, a poet at last
Alive at least in my own idol-making sympathy.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Peace-402773282

Sleeping on the wings of poetry

I’ve satisfied the poetry in me
by mastering luminous humility
I can chew personal poems in
the meditation against coercion

it’s a lifelong habit to read & write
though I’d prefer a mandarin certificate
than another restoration of crisis
through and by writing, soaring there –

I’ve satisfied the poetry in me
or so I always think, before and after
I wrote the last, till the penning of the next
veering upward like a pigeon with

an unworldly frown, I laugh to think
at how the car honks, door slams, angels cry
of a trillion worlds, while I can simply write
poetry is the last beautiful language
difficult though it has always been to me.

poetry courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Scintillate-402634741

To have lavender lips under the leaves of the world

In poems anything can be said
eyelids don’t obey the night
hearts might float as silver flying machines

throats might have a spiritual flicker
in poems anything might fly
slow heart breaths to music’s touch

lavender creeps in through the bedroom window
and fragrance tell us a bed-time story
In poems dreams collide, with the ocean’s floor

with stars that spring loud as the streaming sun
treasures could last for centuries
on eager notes of autumn amusement

In poems anything can zealously work
for the beacon of the times had a candle
that said to each morning how much I loved you

with a mouth for cranberry tea and the bluest glow
In poems I miss you always
for even careful words are too numerous
To be taken seriously.

Of Post Modern Poetry

The poem of the mind begins
from imitation, the sufficient finding
of ourselves in others, of language in mind

the poetry of the heart begins
from adoration, the theater of possession
when all the scripts repeat

the scenes shift with insatiable actors
I slowly construct my new stage
the poem begins with delicate listening

a repetition of silence between each vowel
with an invisible audience that cares
the poem of the mind beings after modern poetry

ended with a souvenir of free-verse
when everyone became a sufficient poet
confessing to learn the speech of themselves

now I will never know exactly how to write myself
though it is fun to make metaphysics my business
and in sudden righteousness, pretend I’m more than a spark.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Untitled-402575231

Buddhist Untitled Engima

Look, look, look – far ends to tired days
That all days were tiring and half-endured
I recommend this abstinence from pain

A praise of purity, in expressions
Of the most lucid meditation
Look, look, look – at the flavor

Of all the Beloved guests, which banquet
With spice & wine, through time
Till my small Library of experience

Is full, full, full – far ends to newer days
That required a wilderness of eyes
And holidays of the happy heart

To stay awake and keep on living
Though at times there were no kinsmen dear
To satisfy the spirit, or obtain peace

I recommend this abstinence from attachment
A praise of purity, in expression
Of the most transparent meditation

Done with all compasses of hope and art
When thinking is shed for rapture & silence.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-magic-ballet-402542745

Michelangelo’s lost Formula

After trying many years, and then
impoverished, I found the fountain of delight
it is an inner wealth, splendid wife

a seed divine, that glows with inner-harmony
it is the returning Tao, life’s estate
when beauty and love’s metaphors

lay dormant, pregnant, knowing, intrinsic –
Oh my beloved nature’s like that too
after many trying years, and then

my mind fell silent and no longer says
that desire or pain have any place to stay
only a smiling surrender, of the triumphant way.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/The-colors-of-Summer-402054594

Now I the art of taming souls possess

22.09.2013

All winged creatures have I loved
All flowers small, all oceans brave
The stillness round my form
Swept all spirits with a smile –

Between the drama, and the storm
All lovers have I befriended
All children that passed me by
With eyes full of empathy’s tears

For the last onset, of love witnessed
In his beloved power, and breaths
As blue as uncertain waves
That could flow for eternity

Between windows of light & life
With lips to sip the jasmine bashful
As reaching late his flowering soul
That counts the nectars and treasures bliss.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Bee-eaters-402005428