you $ you

(Unknown internet image source)

you $ you $ you

bathing luxuriantly

in your micro visions

while the macro world

dissolves in chaos

shiny smiles gleaming

from 1st class leather as

the fluffers come and go

at the snap of your

fatty fingers

heads are squashed below

the fine hem of power suits

but the blood never dries,

you have people to take

care of that

you have people, you have

things. that is your world...

to "have"

I don't believe in eternal

damnation, but I do for you.

I'm a hopeful man.

I hope you get to have

your hell.

(Image from bitchute.com)

the last lines of blue

life is becoming

a series of small

letting go's

clenching hands

opening up and

releasing 

diminishing greed lies

winded and sullen

somewhere distant

and strange to me now

  its late afternoon and

  evening is approaching,

  I'm just starting to exhale

  as the day is cooling off

  the sky's changing color

  and my eyes are fixed upon

  the last line of blue

  left before black

I'm feeling what its like

to slowly fade away

but I'm enjoying it more now

and soon

  in the midst of a deep

  perfect darkness

I will leave

dark breeze blowing 

through my hair

dark breezes

       blowing

don't let it

surprise you

(Gif from unknown internet source)

storm

(Gif by surfanimations.tumblr.com)

these winds that 

rush to shore

show no mercy

this ocean that's

stirred up,

these waves that

come crashing

care not;

I'm exposed

and vulnerable,

isolated on this

fragile tombolo

waters raging,

stance sinking into

golden sands

contemplating

unmade decisions

and how I got here

in the first place

(by Robert & Parkeharrison on requiem-on-water.tumblr.com)

moonrise

splendor of moonrise

gently rolls the tide

this opulence of night

warm coupled bodies

a meld of understanding

and smooth desires

music of the breeze

floats below the staff

in murmuring notes

turn to me, kiss me

salted shores of necks

and lapping lips invoked

(Moon over the Ocean, Marianna Foster. fleurdulys.tumblr.com)

(all or nothing)

interference of light

on the perfect pattern

and you become real

or so it seems

a hologram, intensity as

the storm outside stages

your image in the rain,

lighthearted and exuberant 

you stomp in puddles with

rain boots and giggles

as I watch from my patient

seat, a spectator

you are lovely, elusively

I call out for you but your

silence flows like curves

in a cycloramic dream-state

escalation

cuddled privately to bare chest

snuggled secretly to pulsing neck

turning this dour down day into

something warm and pleasant

the evening is raw skin and

a winking sun sneaking away

the night is hands and lips and

whispers that crawl from tongues

we fold our morals neatly pressed

and stack them in the bottom drawer

introducing wicked wild and uncouth

in ceremony without etiquettes due

(Image from doghouseempire.com)

Lady Gasoline

for want of fresh fire

but not the need

already aflame in your

own safe space

giving pleasure to the

familiar hearth

body is the blaze as

the heat rises;

am I nothing more than

scraps of tinder

soaked in happenstance

and spray residue

potential pyre aside, the

latent affair

nothing... nothing... after

the initial burn... nothing

(Gif from havenandhearth.com)

down here

good gods live on

high mountains

to stay away from

those who pray

stars shine from

so long ago,

no longer there

accepting wishes

it comes down to 

you and I

gods of each other,

lights present in our 

own skies

I still have hope

(Image from soulsauce.tumblr.com)

the ripe house

fallible uneasy nature

of things and these

variant of Cora Pearl, a

wild child descendent

tamed by nothing but time

and the street-cold hush

polished smooth by fright

and vehement smiles

serve yourself in trance and

begs of the opportunistic

feed the pigs sex and smell

before the slaughter

we need promises as much

as we need solid lies

when the ripe house burns

we are all incinerated

(Image from stayathomemum.com.eu)

pendulum

motes of fate

in the

tenebrous air,

words written

in chalk

the wind blows

precious fret...

the pendulum swings

there's a high

to be had

on both sides,

she searches for

magnetic force

only Love knows

precious heft...

the pendulum swings

(Image from fineartamerica.com)

moon and I

moon mood and reflection

disturbed by the tender trickle

of little waves upon my feet

rise of a glowing stone mute and

forgotten amid the lucid backdrop

of a piercing star-filled night

down the shoreline two strangers of

my imagination fuck on a blanket and

wet sand with smooth simple loving

closing my eyes to the sea-breeze

I strain to hear them but their moans

are low and private into the ear

their night is fine without us, moon

and I as mute and forgotten as 

shadows drowned in their waves

this night is fine without me, I have

my own secrets to tell tonight

and the moon as my only witness

(Image on elegyforadream.tumblr.com)

do not disturb

 

anesthetize the 4 chambers,

medicate the selves within

chase those little inchoate 

voices into a reprimanding 

corner until they learn to 

behave

but which one of I

will do the reprimanding

and who is really chasing

who in this rhetorical cycle

of questioning

the heart is becoming 

spastic now and the

medication is kicking in

I am doctor and patient

and the rooms are all white

and padded and windowless

but there are trees in my 

head and children laughing 

and no one around to supervise

I am not here right now,

as obvious as the sign on 

the door says

do not disturb

(Phot by S.D.G Photographie on flickr.com)

the littlest of things

underneath 

or over

grinding through

the overdub 

and large hall reverb

of living

here I lie 

waiting for you

below the cold universe

upon this burning earth

in this deep valley

down in the thin grass

within this loose sand

with the littlest of things

a single musical note

within the seed's shell

vibrating unique existence

in sustained resonance

    bring your beauty

    to my awaiting song

    and I will show you

(Image from shutterstock.com)

 "There was preserved in her 

   the fresh miracle of surprise"

                         -Jim Morrison

my security

my consistency

my friend fiend friend

my angel lover

my betrayer

my journey

my rearview mirror

I look ahead for you

without turning my

back on you

you, everywhere

you, nowhere

tangible intangible

ghost on a swing

voice of inside out

ancient 

present 

unknown

every miracle of you

preserved in you

folded 

folding 

unfolding