The rainbow never held a pot of gold
for me, no more than an illusive lust
just a dream of you draped in a lingerie
limbless, stripped of bust.

Not fluffy locks with silver streaks
swirling above in seductive tease,
I crave for the thunder of fusing mass
flashing the hunger in your eyes.

A pubescent bush aroused by steady rain
not enough to quench its parched terrain
for a lashing of furious torrents it screams
to flood its wanton rivulets.

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0sQw0ZvZmJt

It was once a garden of innocence,
full of love, hopes and colourful dreams.
Then the raiders came with a vengeance
trampling on its virgin soil marking grim

They looted its treasures out of greed
and set them on fire in vengeful hatred.
As the young man wept while his heart bled.
His soul, no longer a free bird.

From the pain of yesterday, a promise was made
to never again be gullible and weak.

market-dress, singularly
each would now trace
pattern for club disarmament
scalpel postmortem needs be
death to thoughts linger...... me
forerunner needing four wheels
man and dog share alike prostration

the oldest superstition
is dogs can ask

crimson batik dress she loosely opts
navel becomes an obese slave
lapdog is protruding intrusion
truants for invasion
recipe of routs juvenile
cast-outs rebirth of her

.

The neighbors are fucking again.          
One slab of meat slapping off the other:          
greedy, porcine. He grunts, she grunts.        
         
My cigarette heats a fingernail      
bringing me back to my own frigid hands.   
I ping it far enough to land in their garden.        
         
She squeals; her Polish is music. I wonder  
if she sounds like that when he's out of her.  
I see my empty bed and my eyes fall  
cuntwards.        

.

Breathtaking sky sunny , cloudy
and rainy predicted that's a nice
variation of to the phenomenon
of nature everything is in bloom ,

The warm blanket of sunshine and
outside nature shows us the most
beautiful things ,where the birds heard
whistling but not all is as you want .

Clouds float gently to the rhythm
of the wind that soon again expecting
the rain that refreshes and the sun
breaks through the clouds again .

Circles were many
That I’ve left in the course of life.
With them left behind
Were those staunch friends and well wishers.

Events were many
That I had in the process of life.
With them left behind
Were those endeared and longed for.

Now I turned yellow
Those with me have not seen my green.
Soon I’d go pale dry
When those with me would see my ash.

Every old one dies
Unsung by the people present,
Who haven’t seen his green,
His friends knowing not his death at all.
01.01.2014

surmise
tuat
held
heae

the dream are borne
threre
dead dust
toeprints

We all are equal in the eyes of a new reader
Let's take a lesson or two
from Neopoets not too few
to express our inner desires
and set aflame
all misgivings that someone else
is better than me….
may be any
each poet has his /her own style
mostly most their time while,
expressing inner most grief
but forget that life is exceedingly brief
Live not in the solitudes of time
get up and to the music of life chime
life is really sublime,
live up to your confidence
as I do mine