blossom stays
arrive
bloom awareness
gooseflesh measures

Im a million mile stare
caught
an echo
thrown out
at night

passions heat
ravaged with rain

how we sodden
treasure
limits

like sunlight
cutting arcs
cross thin
pale landscapes

to all ladies and lads
across neo
free kisses from
meeeeee

take them or blow them away,
it’s your lips and cheeks to say ..
I have composed,
many kissy poetry
so many have read
alas not paid a penny

here I donate all my kisses to you…
catch them for free will you
all poets are friends,
even jealous ones….
I have to make amends

I‘m a friend of all those
who love me here
I send bags of kisses
blowing all over the Internet

It feels so disconcerting

this paradigm shift,

that tramples through my thoughts like, shadows gray;

if I start to yield a comfort

because a spin doctor's around,

then my resolve has just begun it's sad, decay.

You may completely know this

shearing of our ledgers,

it happens as with a whisper at the dawn;

yet, everyone still heard

each perpetuated lie,

they can start, & end the shearings' on our lawns.

No sadder fate exists in life

than being drawn, & led astray;

weight of shadows
cracked reflections

hunched, humbled
clenching forlorn wants

oblivion beseeches a cloak
of velvet
to hide within its folds
the truth

illusory venerations
blighted fantasies

of our

sweet minuet

Barefoot into the blush
of dawn's rose petalled suffusion
permeating the essences of night and day,
as orion guides the eye towards the sky,
where slipping gently off,
the garments of the night, that faded
into the oblivion of deep dark space.

Some cotton
shields the eye of
twenty-four
carat gold
while a sylphlike rose
rises from
the sleepy womb
of life.

I think of women,
Ancestors of my sisterhood,
Centuries before my birth,
How they were oppressed and suppressed,
For their sex, race or ideals,

I think of women,
Who struggled with infirmities,
Who were called crazy,
Branded witches or harlots,
For their desire to be independent,

How would I have fared in their eras?

Those stifled out by society,
Those hushed by authority,
Artists and dreamers alike,
Punished for their fight,
Shunned for their light,

The Sounds of Loneliness

voices whispering memories
of times long forgotten
dancing with fading shadows
in nightmare dreams
no touch of love
no recognition

walking through empty rooms
the cold side of the bed
no breath to warm your neck
no arms to hold you
from your fears.

the dread
that morning silence bringa
and a heart that sinks
ever deeper
each day

Gobekli Tepe

‘Neath layers of barren Turkish soil it rises like a dream
built by folk who had no tools or even pots of clay
older than the Pyramids or Stonehenge, it would seem,
another ancient mystery that challenges today

pockets of night
follow my legs
around the leap
of living dawn

I am a nerve
metropolis shaking
like the cries of
birds

the beads of drips
descending through
the veins of black
scrawling forth and
out with waiting buds

a ruin of thoughts
peel memories
behind faded
brilliance

I have come
to dab graffiti
worship

ghost artists

knocked out ideals
sulking
and purring
prowling principles