Sphere
Turn longing on itself,
as simply as you would a piece of clothing,
A Hundred Excuses
the ocean is calling
waves speak steadily, stealthily
when time beats rhythmically to the end
your voice is always open
it calls me when I sleep
a sweet, hypnotic touch
the flutter of fake eyelashes
the blinking that’s sometimes real—
did you say something that time?
alone on our backs
we listen to the buzz
to the white in the sky
this is the time for a hundred excuses
and the refuse from
alone in the bush
alone in the bush
where night is calling
within the open sky
as dark as the one I love
I wander in the sand
while cutting twigs in a path
the bells have echoed
somewhere in the night
this midnight soup
has broken up my dreams
a strand in circles
a ring that never ends
where night is calling
within the open sky
as dark as the one I love
I wander in the sand
while cutting twigs in a path
the bells have echoed
somewhere in the night
this midnight soup
has broken up my dreams
a strand in circles
a ring that never ends
at the bottom of the forest
at the bottom of the forest
within the dark pearl
where we have come to rest
from echoes and voices
so still
the universe has barely cracked
and the grass stays silent
within the dark pearl
where we have come to rest
from echoes and voices
so still
the universe has barely cracked
and the grass stays silent
"Forgotten Knight"
Sonnet Of The Forgotten Knight
Comes home from place of grainy sediment.
Where days were spent discharging sulfurous slugs.
Brings forth corporeal impediment.
When asked of soul, he merely offers shrugs.
As sands drop down, confined to rolling throne,
Our battered knight recalls the days of yore
When damsels chased, yet only to bemoan
Another favored—quandaries no more.
"Our gratitude is always yours," they say,
Comes home from place of grainy sediment.
Where days were spent discharging sulfurous slugs.
Brings forth corporeal impediment.
When asked of soul, he merely offers shrugs.
As sands drop down, confined to rolling throne,
Our battered knight recalls the days of yore
When damsels chased, yet only to bemoan
Another favored—quandaries no more.
"Our gratitude is always yours," they say,
THE BEAUTIFUL ONES
THE BEAUTIFUL ONES
Roused in the heart of night
I sit and stare
Boiling in the rhythm of thought
On this road,
Life lost,
Life saved,
Beauty flies by and by
Pain flies by and by
Hope dashed against stones
Story meshed upon stories
Beforehand,
They pop up like a RAVEN
That fed Elijah meat and bread.
Feeding the myriad of people with wad
Under the gaze of sun,
The throngs aligned on a longish axis
As if money is doled out
To assuage the flared-up sac
There, mopping their perspiring brows
Some pressed in bladder,
Some pressed in the sac
To give ears to the callings
Of the hawkers spicy, relis
The spiciness of poetry
The hotness I feel when spreading these words on paper.
The taste of hope I feel in my gut, makes me realize poetry is absolutely tasty.
It's like spice and pepper mixed together in a salad; to establish a delicious flavour.
Oh this spiciness is driving me crazy; giving me chills and motivation for tomorrow.
Yes this is the spiciness of poetry, and you should try it.
It is absolutely delicious.
THE PERFECT PLANET
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In my mind we’ve found you
A million times —
The brilliant aquamarine planet,
Christmas
pigeons bristled up I am walking in from the terrace now here we are me pine tree and pigeons and Christmas
Perception
Perception is everything-
And nothing.
Perception clouds our minds-
And clears them.
Perception dictates
The direction we take
Upon entering a room,
And can be changed
By the sound of a beating heart.
Perception allows us
To see the big picture-
And helps us focus
On the tiniest of details.
Perception is as universal
As the sky above us,
And as individual
As fingerprints.
Perception doesn't change
How we see, but how we think.
And there will always,
No matter how hard we try
To change it,
And nothing.
Perception clouds our minds-
And clears them.
Perception dictates
The direction we take
Upon entering a room,
And can be changed
By the sound of a beating heart.
Perception allows us
To see the big picture-
And helps us focus
On the tiniest of details.
Perception is as universal
As the sky above us,
And as individual
As fingerprints.
Perception doesn't change
How we see, but how we think.
And there will always,
No matter how hard we try
To change it,