Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Touch Me

Touch Me

Touch me, and flesh rises
To meet fingertips in anxious
Anticipation of one that knows
The secret places
Where all life begins.
Where moistened energy drips in
Life’s sustaining juices that
Secret place where love is born.
. . . touch me right there.
. . . touch me.
. . . Touch my heart.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Hope

Hope.
Lost in a forgotten
Place.
A secret myth never
Spoken of.
Hope.
A forgotten.
Place. . .

June 23/99



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Accept my apology

Accept my apology for all I
Have done.
Try to be in my place as these
Things have happened.
But it’s hurtful when you toss
Me aside and expect me to
Crawl.
Out of everything there is one
Thing I regret.
You hurt the ones you love. . .

June 16/99



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, November 22, 2010

Seduce Me

Seduce me.
Let me feel the flesh of your
lips pressing against mine.
Let my hands rise up over
your lite little form.
Filling us with our hungering
lust with each glance.
Taste me with your tongue
eat me with your lips.
As I stand towering above you
I am yours.
Do with me as you will.
Seduce me.
I'm yours. . .

Dec 19/99

I Bid Farewell

I bid farewell to the season's
I bid farewell to the stars in
the night time sky.
I bid farewell to the thoughts
which laid still inside my
heart.
And I've bid farewell to the
lover's that have Crucified
me. . .

Dec 16/99

Trying To Reach Genoa

Trying to reach Genoa.
Once more across the Alps,
to find a ship,
to cross the Mediterranean
to follow my heart to
Egypt and Abyssinia
Where the sun rises across
the horiszon and the moon
seems larger than life itself.
Where this primal heart
call's for. . .

Dec 8/99

I am

I am not a prisoner of
my reason.
I want freedom in salvation.
No more need of devotion or
divine love.
No more regret for the age of
tender hearts.
Each of us have our reason,
scorn and charity;
I reserve my place at the
top of that angelic ladder
of common sense. . .

Dec 9/99

The True Importance

The true importance of the life
and death of a great man
is not to be sought in the monuments,
nor in the sayings and doings of those that
came after him.
Nor can it be summed up with a few strokes
of the pen; it is all written
in his deeds while he lived,
in his works, and death speaks the last
words of his story.
He hurtled into the void like a falling meteor,
while others died in tears of the clarity.
Like that of a thunder clap and goes to his end as he lived;
in a tempest;
as in a drama of Shakespeare. . .

Nov 30/99

The Indescribable

The Indescribable
has come
to pass. . .


Nov 25/99

To Purge

To purge all those unnecessary
moments in one's life, one must
remain focused  upon the goal.
The greater outcome of all, far
out weighs the goals of one
mere person.
So one must focus and remove
all those unnecessary activities
to see the greater goal, as well
to except one's place in the
order of the Universe . . .

Oct 19/99

Love Is My Sin

Love is my sin,
Hate of my sin,
of every hour silent
Without that, which my
Sin calls. . .


Oct 17/99

God

God is not my strength,
Nor the places I go or live.
But inside my abandoned
Mind lies the traces of hope.

Oct 7/99

That What is done

That, what is done is done.
That no past really dies.
For we are what we are.
In the kingdom of lies . . .

Jan 15/00

Uninhibited Individualism

Where inhibitions in
there own environment
could gambol and play
without the fear of
Stricture. . .

Jan 25/00

sometimes

Sometimes the drug breaks
down the reality which
you try to escape
from.
but reality is
always there . . .

feb 4/99

invisus

in the present
imperfect
world

feb 1999

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

In My Dreams

You are the woman in my dreams
With erotic energy's that coursed through
Your veins.
The very being of a new edge of sensuous
Mischief - You have
A tendency to f eel things I say deeply.
With my love that I offer you, would
It be enough?
Would it be a strange to please your
Heart?
Maybe?
You enter into my world like the
Exotic and erotic sounds of the Violin.
I learned forward and kissed you softly
Open lips
My hand slipped your light
Little form and I lifted you up and
Up.
Until you were friends and lover . . .
You drove your eyes into my soul.
Feeding what's in my heart.
Bounded together, the forces of lust and
Excitement fuel the mind and soul of
Our being.
Clinging to our hearts we share
Expressive of life, love and tradgy.
But you are showing me love.
I know not the skills of love, or
Passion.
I am innocent like a small child
But my heart has learned to speak
Passionately.
You call out the sleeping hunger
Within me.
A love of and respect for what is
Right before my eyes
Which is you?
I dream of that long ago time when
We sat upon that bench at the mall.
Each kiss with our eyes was the perfect
Consummation of desire.
What can we do but reach for the
Embrace that must now contain
Both heaven and hell.
Heaven when we embrace.
Hell when we don't have the
Chance too.
It's dim magnification of
Every human's soul
Shown in our love. . .

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

You could say

You could say I found
The beat in the rave itself.
The energy that forced its way
Through me was a new trippy thing.
Almost like contentment was in a pill. . .

Aug 13/87



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The little Houser

The little Houser
Exodus from the
Dance floor of
Underground stylers
To some kind
Of far out,
Trippy style of song. . .

1991


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Look how far

Look how far we’ve come
Just to fall away to dust.
Ends have no end
While beginnings come then go
And come again.
But how far did we really
Go. . .

Aug 28/00



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Monday, November 15, 2010

The Self

For the self
Is a killer
Reckless of the
Cost . . .




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Friday, November 5, 2010

Words

words fill the air,
they free your heart,
they give you hope,
they give you pain,
words can be whatever
you want them to be,
Words they escape,
me. . .

Nov 4:10



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Thursday, November 4, 2010

Bottled

Bottled

Hidden thoughts in a bottle,
Mopping up your memories,
You know what I tell you,
What I show you.
The arrogant interpretations of
My heart on your sleeve,
I rip apart your logic,
Now you’re clouded.
Seeing a hated mirror image,
Hippocrates, hate Velcro
Sayings, but what they wished they’d
Said but couldn’t.
 
I did, but you wouldn’t
Think you know me?
That twisted version of me.
Only what you want me to be.
I’ve broken your silence.
Where are we now?
Where we should never get back. . .
A tit for a tat,
I’ve captured a grin and zipped it up.
Sometimes I open it, but I get distracted by
You licking on your lips,
Shattering your illusions
With my tongue slithering through you
Just a peak inside
You cringe.
Run!
Stupidity running rampage
You fall to the floor . . . Give
Me the bottle!
Feel dirty with the lights on.
Then drink from my wounds
For yours wounds are in me.
Remember? A tit for a tat
Our lack of faith and
Absence of everything,
Corrupting knowledge,
Devouring . . . digesting . . . regurgitating.
Now we can fly. . .
A spewed cork
Forget how to fall . . . we don’t
It covers like velvet
Blanket like those dreams, vast, like those stars.
One by one they appear as the
Night slowly swallow the light;
Gradually,
Insignificance rises and
Existence seems small.
Infinity makes ones
Life seems trivial.
 

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

To Have loved

To Have loved and lost
Or not to have loved.
The Shakespearean dilemma
at its crux, becomes
the unanswerable ringing
of the tolling bell, tolling
for the death of love.
Offering not a tone of resolution.
The roses are weeping
the Fairyland  has suffocated,
no one can believe
because faith has grown too
expensive and truth
has become arbitrary.
So What does a soul
make of it?
The dripping eyes, the flames
of stone.
The breathing idols of living
misunderstandings
all written in a spider web
language of delicate
rage and virtual
reality that is in fact
insanity.
No answers.
No Solution.
No Homozygous
of explanation.
Only the gliding, shimmering
shadow's that provide no
mask sufficient to hide
from the heart. . .
 

Inapprehensive Stare

Revenge on your
Inapprehensive Stare.
Revenge I say, revenge
And tears . . .

Sept 23/98

Do not deem me

Do not deem me quit the fool,
Which smarter friend have thought
Of me. . .

Do not believe

Do not believe that he
Who seeks to comfort you
Lives untroubled among
The simple and quiet words
That sometimes do you good.
His life has much difficulty
And sadness. . .
Were it otherwise, he would
Never have been able to find
Those words.

April 1998

Monday, November 1, 2010

Remember to breathe

Remember to breathe

Long moment of just sitting there.
Blanking out on the empty thoughts
That linger in the shadows of my mind.
The TV screaming in the background
As this sense of blackness enters my soul, reaching in, taking what was mine but somehow became your?
There the clutter invades my thoughts
And leaves the sanity behind. . .

Nov 1/10