Why was I given life?
I live with the sin
I will be given no apologies from those who offend
I am a container.
a vessel of blank.
The music is dark and so is my soul
I am not given light. I do not credit the ones who show mercy.
I am evil. I am nothing.
Good for those who dwell.
Why do I continue to live?
Everything is void.
Everything.

Sparkling wine;
ruby red fine.
The sunsets, two silhouettes,
moving into the power of love.

No pretenses
waking senses.
Desire, boom on fire,
sinking into the light of your eyes.

Sensual clicks,
exhaling mix.
Body flow, let myself go,
melting into the texture of you.

Tantric sex

Tantric sex
is sex-static
as it is fun-static
tantric teachings
6000 years away
is what foreplay
teaches us today

start today
but sex tomorrow
like elephants do
they take years two
then splash it all-in
liters full
in just a moment

I wanted to be yours,
your preferable rose,

your poetry,
your muse,
your prose,

your shrine,
your morning shine,

your diction,
your science,
and fiction,

your zeal,
your hope,
and feel,

your season,
your wind
your reason,

your ring,
your smile
and spring,

I wanted to be all
when there came
the fall.

She was always
a story, a mystery
that no one
could resolve.

Into the cavities of the night,
under the faint blurry lights,
her scream roamed
with the shadows
of dead pharaohs
then dissolved,

tattered,
tossed,
scattered,
shattered
and lost
then burst into
a tantrum,

a conniption
that gravelled
not only her,
but all those who
dwelled her heart.

Did

His

Eyes see

Earless Art

Painting sunflowers.

Bright colours sunshine seeking blooms.

There he missed the spiral galaxy hidden within?

A lover caught in the vortex of seeking relief, not seeing the inner beauty.

Painting even the plucked blooms then left them to rot away somewhere, showing the missed spiral of the universe even to his soon dead eyes.

glitter gnash
a gullotine smile
slash

depths swirl
in flashback knell
cotton candy coloured
pulse waves

like a vein charged
arterial spur

drawn back
the ghost
veil

the wishing hall
the bitter mirror

throw on the crumpled
persona crouched
in the door chair

ring in a fresh packet
of ideals
on jangled
urges

the run dipped
in its
glaze

like silverfish moon
on flourscent fire

Pain and suffering

Lord Buddha had said
pain and suffering are inevitable
seek pain
suffering prolongs

to reduce suffering
one must reduce pain
and suffering would also be gone
so don't hang on

pay heed to the philosophy
of the learned one
he left home all of a sudden
in order to live
in the hearts of mankind
for all times to come
for ever

IMPASSE

There is no love
when moments pass
in loneliness.
There is no joy
in only seconds
spent together
There is darkness
when your heart sinks
with each “Good-bye.”

The pallid moon rises,
murmuring among the reeds,
skipping on the water,
like a million silver beads.

A solitary loon calls
haunting the starry bright sky,
saturating the air
with the sound of its ghostly cry.

Soft wings glide no hurry,
across the vast inland seas,
sailing on a whisper,
lifted by the sent of a breeze.

A thunderstorm echoes,
shimmering jagged edged light,
flooding the horizon
while wolves howl to the night.