After Profiteers


Screen Shot 02-07-16 at 10.10 PMExultation is in the going
The inland soul flees time’s superficiality
We are nomads, then
In deep eternity and

The powerful machines are coming
My brethren have take to cities
Flooded the seas with their discarded wealth
But wealth is not what it once was

Profit is for dying eyes
And hearts that are not awake
Paradise is not an ownership
It is a freedom and a delight

I never spoken with God
But I saw her face in creation
Revived and renewed in a thousand eyes
I felt the novel agony of a lost humanity

So bemused and so conquered by suffering
Taken from men who war for their pride
I will not exalt in the smallness
Of my life, I will live it finely

With women, who understand me
And roses, as grateful as I
Lost among the crowds, I will
Enjoy my difference, and remain

A peculiar traveller of what comes and goes
Curiosity, that’s the only name
I care to pronounce.

But With a Fraction of the Love


 

 

 

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I’ve felt my life

In the murmur of a bee

And felt all my tears

 

In the eminence of a nest

And the daffodils blew color

Covert as April, or candid as May

I took my time to age and my time

Was plenty, in the solitude

 

Of antiquity, forgetting for answering

Only questions, guided me

At the breaking of the day

 

Where golden drops spawned

Longer looks and deeper searching

All for something immaterial

There is a flower which no longer blooms

It’s in my heart or should I say, it was

 

It’s gentle romance led me on

In the chivalry of my subjective warmth

Where I was not alone, nor humming birds left

 

The measures of days were not my smiles

My splendour was meagre, my heart

Was the moistness of oxygen

In your lungs, the breath that kept you sane

When life was a tyranny of choice until

 

There was none left and freedom hung

Like a low hanging fruit, of what our lives had become.

 

In Process of the Seasons of You in Me


 

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Love, there was never an audience

Only the taste of a premonition

That died so easily in your hands

And my life was an illusion

 

But my dreams had a vividness to me

You were never old to me, I never tired of your

Native voice, the April lift of your soul

The green Junes burning in your hair

 

The majesty of your words

That my songs could never dear

Summers died at your feet

Love, I roamed beaches and years

 

Trailing the path you had fled

And white as the sun, I never tasted you

Only an invisible promise of hope

That bled in me when I thought of you.