your expectation
of me is no surprise
as you are poetic
worldly wise
and
I know when you fly by,
the heavens seem to heave a sigh!
how happy one can be
when on one's page
your impressions
one can see…
so I as usual appreciate
thee…
ancient culture can’t be forgotten
so very easily
hence do pardon me.
Lovedly!

I doth delight in letting my dark passenger drive and dredge this often dull dwelling we call dirt. Denying this divine dimension of which I currently reside would be despicable. This darkness disturbs the dullards drowning in their dunce disease and douche bag dreams of distorted reality. I've dabbled and drunk from the depths of despair and deny the dim chance I'll ever dig down there.... again. Delving into devilries and debauchery destroying this dilemma of death.

What deity is this?
That foregoes the host lost and bleeding
Whose eyes mark the divine tide
Which pulls the storm from its
caribbean cradle
The radiant sun
folds into a dancing sea
As the furied tide sways above the earth

with thoughts of they who have left
reaction's mixed

time
has made it seem alright
despite remembering
the anguish
of bereft
and realisation they'd write on my page
no more

I’ve intuition
they have found new light
acceptance has insidiously crept
into my existence
with setting suns

but sometimes
my innate beliefs take flight
excruciatingly expose regret

a deep 'I miss you'
hollow
in my chest

I’ve lived in many ages
Different bodies every time
Like a book with many pages
Every chapter has been mine

I’ve worked in deep dark slave-mines
I’ve had bodies white and black
I’ve lived as royalty sometimes
And I just keep coming back

I’ve lived as male and female
Only bodies give me gender
Looking back at time’s long trail
Every lifetime is a wonder

I’ve been on other planets
Been a baby many times
With always different parents
Of my various body lines

When Summer dies as Fall's endorsed
the greenness fades away-expires
no color paints nor bird upsoars
as coldness creeps and warmth retires.

The leaves ignore the blissful life,
when Summer dies as Fall's endorsed.
While blown, each leaf enfolds a strife
to tell a life it oft adores.

The beasts in peace shall sleep with snores,
awaiting Spring to warm again
when Summer dies as Fall's endorsed,
the creatures have a little gain.

You think you can
choose?

Praise be
for your great
gift!

A womb
A warm receptacle
An open dock
your fecundity
is a prize

Can't you see
how much
my husband's
seed
needs
your warm
tight thighs?

We'll have a party
when you're due
to you we'll be kind
and wise

You think you can
choose?

The red matches your
hair
wipe away the stains
didn't hurt so bad?
The experience, we shared

ABOUT GRIEVING

Then there is the silence
that stills the soul
and turns the heart to fear
stunned by its own beating
a visceral loneliness
and a longing for
the minute before..
the suddeness of a life alone.
the nearness of your own ending.
.

.

Je ne sais pas pourquoi la rue
est si mauvaise ou où elle va.
Ma vie est très éphémère, oui.
Ta vie est très éphémère, oui.
Il n'y a rien sans la brume.

guage
chrome
against the tender

outside the tempest rages
inside the temporal alpha dreams

the wounds heal
binding
the pysche
gathers in its herd

the wind whisper
grasses hiss

I turn my head
a near miss

(for babe/s)