He's a Jealous creature,
tearing his heart out
it gnaws at his innards

Tormented, stalked by insecurity.
and bonds he can't escape,
a garrote for his neck.

The ugly side of love
rears its poisonous head

He lashes out verbal intensity
Words slashing
like razor blades.
Lacerating her affection

Suffocation won't keep her close
The tighter he squeezes,
The more likely escape.

Punch drunk
and dazed by emotion,
he needs to lay this burden down,

`

Who can tell the difference
between gallantry and deceit;
that is clear only to
the querying breeze?

Who could not smell
the pungent heavy cloud
before the pulling of
the petulant wind?

Further, afar off, no one inquires
about foreseen mornings unseen
dreams once winged zephyrs
echo in forgotten hallways.

Perched high on rock faces grim
beneath the humming of the bird,
awash on porous promontories -
failure now permeates the abject soul.

On the frozen verge of land and water
my footsteps ring upon the empty sands
Where the wind touches my face with laughter

Warmth of home beckons with promise of shelter
yet pleasure is held in these open hands
on the frozen verge of land and water

For cold gives old father sun no quarter
and empties all the throngs from summer lands
where the wind touches my face with laughter

No thick crowds now crush and make feet falter
no more park rangers smug their dumb demands
On the frozen verge of land and water

Sometimes it starts this way
you're sitting, thinking
mental gears churning
about nothing
and not one idea
about anything
seems to come to mind

So, you just start hammering
on the keyboard
and, still nothing much
a deletion, then another
but you are writing
which is half the battle anyway

And you realize
that even your
best efforts
are lacking ...... alot
and it's all more or less
worthless ..... to most

if I'm American...
i might fill my hunger with breads and cakes. not with rice.
and probably encountered temptations of sex-permissive girls
scattered on Vegas lights.

if I'm Mexican...
it would more likely for me to turn to as a boxer.
one of those guys grasping for the healthiest grilled potato,
to beat Pacman the "Mexi-cutioner"...

`

Rough is the wind that flattens
a tree from its anchored moor,

a destiny not too quick to ruin
presents a whispered word to me:

on we traverse without respite
that weary road we take,

what imprint is left behind
that sweeps relentlessly against these walls--

a spectre of bygone landscapes
whose blustering gusts are raptured calls

`

titularred tyrants
toadyishly taunting
tippler's tingles
tedious temperate timbres
tarrying timeless talisman's
tautological tariffs
try tarnishing tawdry
talkative tableau's
trudging
tallies -- tantamount
to tearful teetotaler's
tell.

.
why dost thou recoil?
hast thou never met a man?
I stand over thee
only because thou dost cower

stand, and face me
even should I be thine enemy

this lowly posture thou adopt
t'was not thrust upon thee from above
'tis but a lie of thine own making
and wilt attract no grace nor mercy
from me, nor the heavens
'til truth of thine aching heart
be known a'loud

speak thy truth,
and know thyself
in the stature thine own natural will
would command

Since we met I have been blind.
Don't get me wrong, though, I don't mind
'cause I can see just plain as day
until I turn my eyes your way.

When I glance at you I see
that child bride so dear to me.
You're still the best thing in my life;
my safe port in times of strife.

Your skin is so soft when in my hand
and in my arms you feel as grand.
The wrinkles of which you oft fret
well, I haven't seen them yet.

Seeking refuge
In your gazing eyes
Your sweet lips
Keep a smile on
Sad faces

Angel that fled from heaven
To ease broken spirits
Stay with me till first light
For your presence
Brings spring flowers
On a winter day

Ah, how your smile echoes
In my darkest hours
Your smile defeats Hades
Your every word flows
Like Shakespearean sonnets