You play these games, baby honestly?
It's such a shame, you think you control me.
Control my life, and everything around,
I've got my feet on solid ground.
And you cant stand the sound.
That my heart doesn't pound for you anymore

she pleads for rest
as a wave of emotion crashes over her.
she drowns in it. struggling to escape she creates...................................scars

with depth too great to measure.
deeper than flesh. than bones. than the very soul itself.
she is too burried in lies that she ..................................................................can't

find any truth. cuts hurt
but not nearly as much as the harsh
discovery of the world she lives in. she tries to.........................................erase

Carnal Haven
(Adult)
the climax of my youth
was spent in his arms
where he stirred my inner muse
with slow hands and hungry thigh
he conquered my inhibitions
transforming me into
the keeper of my own soul
together we pushed the boundaries
of the erotic envelope
while prodding fingers of velvet softness
pressed against darkened star strewn skies
the voyeur in me came alive
sprouting wings of passion
from the sating juices of honeyed release
while the late evening breeze

As the days now dawn
Without a rising bliss
Life is but a meaningless walk
Upon a dusty road
Of man’s own madness
In search of mysticism
To belittle the Creator

Surely, the prophets do die
But their prophesies do not lie
They come to pass at last
The earth quivers beneath
The sun consoles with a burning shade

For hell’s mouth is ready
Its hour looms in at last
Some Christens seek their God now
With due supplications
Others drink booze and more booze

Bedar

Of Nothing now the Light shines thrice,
and Nothing lay in void and cold.
Creation formed of formless ice
in trinity shall chance unfold
and satisfy thru their transcendent toil. 5

Now as Samwiel, Mic~lor was free
and gifted soul as like apart.
Thus as Joss willed, the sundered three,
would seek alone what moved each heart
and make anew or as ‘twill be, despoil. 10

my soul lost its memory
in blood a voice without ears
kneaded in the bread of Al Badar
plowed into the graves of 10,000 chickens
it is nothing to not exist
it is not Palestine
fathers have no hands here
mothers no eyes to hold tears
the mask covers the faces
in this nigger nobody dream
bound without hands to the earth
spilled out like a toxic red crayon
the liquid spills of incendiary skin
perhaps bits of cloth, a finger
is left to point the way to the holy city

IN A QUIET PLACE

I took the words that tell
my thoughts and fears
locked them with a key
in a quiet place
where no one
will see them
again.

I’ve opened up my heart
bore my soul
to set my spirit free
from the demons
that are hunting me
down.

but the world can be
a cruel and unforgiving
place for some…
for most.

foreground in silence
a breathless day
while the sun rises a mile away

a new jacket speaks
the leather voice
tiny passions in cold air

camera full of black and whites
your letters written
nothing trite

and how it is we concur
our addiction to this
blur
the strangers in the glass
ask seeking
why all the leaving
I move more towards

then against

hungry for everything
we shall not have
sated for nothing
that is all ours

The sense of time erodes our fascination
with our bodies, sooner or later,
didn't it?
Was it yesterday, that lightning bug in a bell jar,
glowing now? Not now.
Did we play Shakespeare well in the parts
so designated, did we choose one over the other,
hate ourselves and each other because we missed
our cues?

Of Poetry!

Well to my semi dwarfed mind
without knowing the nuances
of concoction of poetry,
save verbal criticism
I feel the power of sharing
what one knows
or deems to know,
with ones brethren