Treatise on Shakespeare

Some are born great
Some achieve greatness by repute
But us wise men know ourselves fools
And to our own selves be true
Loving all, trusting a few
Doing wrong to none

All the world is a stage
And with smiles we play our parts
The wheel will come full circle
Until the stars give ourselves back
Our destiny, to be great
And bleed, and tickle, and die

As surely as night must follow the day
Ignorance being the curse of God
Better to be a witty fool, than a foolish wit
Amused by the humour of our own minds
Some are born hearing comedy in their hearts
While others die many deaths of tragedy

If music be the food of love, play on
If body be the bread of pleasure, dip it flush
Full of sound and fury and a treasured youth
Into water, for joyful tears are all that is left
Parting is such sweet sorrow

Come, ladies and gentleman
Drinking down all unkindness done to us
May we still love the faults that made us blind
Aware and knowing of the floods that omitted fortune
Ah how a good human, does revere their own downfall.

Of Siena’s Calling

Sweetness bears our spirit’s gains
Our soul’s anticipations guiding
The spherical gardens where

You tremble, womb of my child
The odour of life that
Opens all strange and unexplained colors

Sweetness bears a flower’s name
Suspended all over the Earth
The pink and orange explosion

Of trumpets of art and fragrance
Gold-packed ceremonies for all those
Who look for beauty on the street

And butterflies in the common heart
Sweetness bears the eternal name: Rose
The holy dance of petals falling

And the coming trance of lover’s
That never truly ends, in the garden of life
Sweetness bears a youthful name
Redness eased from the blushing heart.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Zoogio-The-Flower-Children-189751262

Magnetic transience of our blooms

If your eyes were not the
color of lightning, of a day full
of loving hope, this world of
faces, work, play, politics

If you were not the chief grace
of my little years, amber weeks
golden months, clogged with
moments of clasping anticipation

I would have gone mad long ago –
If, my dearest, you had not come
into my life like sand, trees, rain
everything is so alive that is to

live with you, eat with you, move with you
if our arms, legs, noses did not touch
each night in our beloved sleep
your life and my life would not

be so good, so happy, and now
I can see everything that lives
and loves in you, so easily, held-in
as the water that shatters the

restless rock; the breeze that caresses
the most ancient fires, you were there
and we drop into the future in
blue salt, falling in sea-circles of
another world, of permanent tenderness.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/War-of-roses-408847420

Primal Body

Who is the pictured form, the body that lasts
That repeats its masks, its lusts
Biology, like scattered threads of clay
That breeds and seeks to win

Across the veils of ecstasy
Who is behind the sense, across immortality
The youth derived from evolution’s soul –
That fetches the wine from the beyond

Who is the pictured form,
The female that lures, the male that pushes on –
That tie the skin of opposites
With head and loin, heart and care
The songs of the organics, the original ancestors.

Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Summer-Love-404705610

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

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

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

In Adoration Immortalis

The altar of love
Bears a crushing resemblance
To war, a soft circle
Of moss where we once lived

Tied to each other in disparity
And our hearts moved
Rhythmically, as tender
As the unison of poorly

Led troops, to be sacrificial lamps
In a game as old as life
To smooth the flowering grass
Of all that we once prized

The immoral gods were not
So immortal, after all
As our eyes once devoured
Each other, dear –

All bids disarm, all decades fade
The wild alarm of youth’s soul
In rage, on the brink of
The quivering skin of festivity

Forever trapped in time
Both in sight and sound

Speechless as a cherished tomb. Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/nobody-knows-399333467