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