with a kiss and a smile and a tender hug
Like a phantom in a dream
will I be woken from this revelry by some quick tug?
You'll leave so unexpectedly
The verity made betwixt our minds and eyes and hearts and hands?
It is the substance of our silence and the flightiness of a step.
It is his outrage and my torrent weep.
It is a distillation in a day’s evenin’ end.
It is the hours by book and coffee-glass spent.
It is the stuff of lips alighting on his brow,
Handsome sprees of payment for his pensive liberty.
Lonesome groans birthed in wordy revelry.
It is between us suspended: oh, aeonian heavenly question.
One, I, insistent in His nature.
The o’er dwelling on nature’s own nimbus
(That Being being beyond man’s cursive start, in any land’s prescribed indite.)
His thoughts a gentle zephyr agitate through psyche’s columns.
Knows not wherein lies the thorn
Is it home each unbalanced wave
Of sentiment unanchored craves?
And if being so
Which is home?
Is it here beneath a starry sky
Held aloft by palm branch and mosque’s cry?
Or is the other the bosom’s chateau?
Mother’s embrace and sun setting o’re emerald show?
Betwixt them is consternation held
Oh sweet loves all t’would meld!
But alas an hour creeps here
When one world as a stock faired
Well enough in ripe time is traded
For another promising page yet unfilled
And in those moments of long-dreamt
Reunion to friend and kin, will soul have wept?
None can say, as of yet
Or is it merely blind infatuation?
A love lifelong confined
But if e’er their love entwined
Would not drudgery of the cycle
Turn fantasy to fractured debacle
Realize in each the soiled stink …
Spoilt curds of their drink
What was thought wine –
In spectacular aged kind
Only found rotten filthy brine?
And all a life lay wasted
Discovered of the last: all time hastened
And all those years run past?
What is any desire but longing enjoined in hope
That what’s held beyond one’s grope
Bears greater unimagined bliss
And heaven and earth turned by the kiss
And when gave be just lips and tongue
Not much more moved than when undone?
Then hands reach and bodies combine
To sap the nourishment of life from th’other
What gained, what enrichment I pray?
Is thee satisfied, full, complete and still?
Nay “still” but in its depth, there the truth: still … not best
And there in lies unrest
Such with the smell of every blossom
And livelihood: advancing our ambition
Each would give (we deceive ourselves) what pleased
It is to heavens’ God to our souls release …
Both now and forevermore
Simply know every o’er craving implore
Us to look to Heaven’s door
And cease vain dreams e’ermore
Sui Juris, Beholden But to One
I beg an hour of mind sui juris,
An eagle hovering in the breezes
Beholden to no one,
No one, no one at all but God
When others applaud, appreciate
The eager works I narrate
It’s then an artist’s complex encumbers me near crippling
An engagement not, no not of God
And then I curl myself,
Wishing I were a little trinket on a shelf
Hoping no one notices, no one admires me
Simply let me be a child, a child of God
And brooding eyes seek Him
Mull o’er His word; tuck in my chin
I remember I am of vast universe a little thing
But a thing loved, loved by God
And finding my Lord’s presence vicinal
Let all fly swiftly to Him administer
Each expectation, every praised successive feat
Let all my works only boast of love, love for my God
I want naught but to write
But write I do not
Abstractions stumbling through my mind
There’s much I’d rather leave behind
Impossible: all upstairs is in a bind
Rather in me something a lot like love will hatch
There’s in me a fear o’r the aforementioned unwelcome, Love – its very name
Joined with a man to me is strange
The hope of immortal bliss
Of unending mirth and happiness
Is oddly hard to fathom
My memory recalls only emotional spasms
Tempting teasing little totes
Flit hither and thither
Prancing through my mind
No solid thought
Could scarce be found aloft
As dancing faeries
Ne’er sure their whereabouts
(Just a scurrying kerfuffle)
And any single production
Tempted to perform itself
Merely mocked before the theater of
My mind is e’en filled
Thus it returns score and playbill
And with apologetic bow accedes,
Turns and quickly flees
I have found the enemy of my soul’s rest
Every night it beats upon my chest
In the daylight it will not let me be
Nor even ever hide from me
But shamelessly it pursues
Often I was caught before I knew
That its wiry fingers were round about
It tangled me and let me doubt
Let me ponder until despair
Had pressed me down a stair
Forcing me away from where
To go I’d even thought to dare
It would clinch my throat;
And life, bit by bit it would choke
Over and over the agonies
The same sorry thought flurries
Played like a horrid dream
An unchanging wretched theme
A deja vue somehow reminding
In every new place still finding
Me in the last place I just left
Unrepulsed no matter where I drift
I have so many happy dreams
All ruined by one sour fiend
Every night and day and year
The torment and abrasive wear
It is the thoughtless comments that one shares
Who become inside a raging flare
For I simply cannot cease to care
It is a thing that stirs the soul
That moves the mouth to smile
The eyes to beam with energy uncovered
From quiet places of the heart
As with food the overabundance
Of words overwhelms the mind
As a feast doth overwhelm stomach
More is the pleasure of a sweet morsel
A simple truth is more to be savored
And to linger over this one fact
Than to rush flavorful aroma and spice
And lose the sensation
That the first bit of knowledge
Had initially to offer
There is reason in quietness
Not rushing words from carriage of mind
To vocal expression and beyond the lips
Before making sense of them
Of pondering long and deep
And making wonder of theirSweet or sour impression