9. Effaced Lover

9. Effaced Lover

There lingers something within me

I’m yet to understand.

It’s nature and mine intertwine like

lovers chained together.


If one were to remove the chain

would they touch no longer or rather

love each other all the more.


I’ve learned not to fear what I do not

understand within myself.

As this too is a part of me, as I am

indeed myself.


8. Tracing

8. Tracing

To keep that constant reminder with

age as not to forget who we are

as we become


Who we were as we become

Who we are

In age as I travel among these

feelings and thoughts


There are some things to be kept

Some things to be watched

and watch without turning my head


Dare I step without dragging a foot

Changing always even if I don’t wish

to pull away


Rather shall I carve my way

and keep a few as others fade

and keep a few while keeping face

Maybe I won’t lose my trace


7. Immortality

7. Immortality

One without equal may

seek only that, maybe

to share the responsibility


Do we fear death or immortality. or

simply losing out on one

because we have the other


Our Passion’s paradox

driving us to evolve as

consciousness expands, we

transmigrate and trade our

bodies again


The fear of immortality is

that we’ll experience everything,

have all the memories and then

never forget

Could we just be Deities without the


Ascension #5

Ascension #5

That phoenix in

ashes anew

Burned out, Burned out


The pinnacle of abysmal


fragmented touch


Held in each


Void-less waves of

absurd joys

Poise upon forelegs

Poised beneath hind-palms


Each trans-‘sisting



Momentous instants

Transition, Transition


Overheard Mania #4

Overheard Mania #4

Misty thought

Though clarity in

sounding ecstasy

through floor

and floor

Till the third

The moaning reaching



To pause and posit

Lending ear

Hands on these and those

Never near.

Here nor down there

Her audible sighs

Primal cries

As if it were her to be

snapped off too

Then cast after cold caress

Confronted, they are by

that divine void, at tip of

head expressed in this their bliss


Malaprop Melancholy #3

Malaprop Melancholy #3

How that sweetness

upon tongue

Swirling curves

Whirling curls

Uncut the couth

Grinding of teat

Minding the coals

Jewels of beauty

The pears of stick rows


Daunting these droves

In their roving troves

The bloody souls




Beneath the beat

Chiseled by the glittering

Chattering by the toe ever mistled

A thimble, a tinkle

A glassy class embedded

in gloss and embossed

Dawn of Anarchy #2

Dawn of Anarchy #2

Snapping into contested


Each gyration of calibrated

many passed

Steps Steps Stripped

Accompanied the acoustic


Sallowed shallow

Shades showing showing


Stated streams

Pausing upon each

laden straw

How tough a brick to chew

than evermore

Nevermore dote he

Nevermore dote she

Evermore off such

dotted a line


The curling cursives

churning un-

conscious niceties

Born off. Born off

Swift, as in gaseous gait and gaiety