I want to heal, for myself
And for you
Something keeps telling me
I'll still be the fool
You had enough of my unhealed ways,
You'll never trust in my post clarity days
And healing will feel good,
whether I get you back or not
But you lit this candle and
you're what I want
Candles burn out and
flames aren't forever
I should have proven then that
I could get better
Now I'm just a wick,
stuck burnt in dried wax,
ever talking about your scent
even though no one asked

a gift for Aladdin Aures H
from his 3rd follower...

<>><<>
the inescapable need,
unformed firmament
inquiring; am I capable?

the impulse palpable,
the urge to urgent,
to gorge and disgorge?

instead of morning prayers,
precomposed and ordered,
morning poem plucked from

morning fog, gusted breezes,
early-on, newborn sun rays,
progeny of disheveled skies

words fused, in irregular sizes,
senses censured by drowsy eyes,
but the chest beating arrhythmia

means bursts of free verses
superimposed on reluctant eyelids,
jigsaw puzzlement be re-conformed

and the first poem of the day,
emerges from the intersection
of mind, pale dreams, and the

first is special till the neu morrow,
when fresh bursts explode inward
to windward, and the first is just

yesterday's mesh of hash,
once formidable, now last,
pinned, yellowing, purely a
*descendant of the recent,
but always, ancient past^

Soft, milky white, creamy,
Rippling with the tides’ collision,
A heat envelops me,
Dripping with sweetness,
I’m parched, yearning for sustenance,
Sustained rhythms, syncopated patterns,
Ripping through the night sky,
Carried out in falsetto, sung praises,
Affirming every sequence,
Clenching with squelched wrenching,
With felt panting of lost breaths,
I stand upon the precipice,
In parallel with this blissful moment.

May we expire this little death,
Together as we sink to catch our breaths,
Enshrined in silk and Egyptian cotton,
Entwined like ivy vines,
I’ll be yours if you say you’re mine,
We can tangle endlessly,
Lovers at midnight,
Sweet like caramel,
Stuck to each other through thick and thin.

You need not hide
behind your poetry
You need not resist
what you believe
Your words are there upon the page
The naïve are deceived
Your greatest fears define you,
your closed mind is never free..
Loop us through your poetic spells..
Infect us with your bigotry…

What if I lose what I hold close to my heart?
It makes the loss a deeper, tearing start.
This I possess, a sincere claim I make,
But what if fate should rudely undertake
To capture all I deem beneath my sway?
This life I trace, a breath that slips away.


All things material, or hues that shift and sweep,
A mental chameleon, a waking sleep,
Be they abstract or real, in moments caught,
A temporary hold, so dearly bought.
The grasping ego, devoid of lasting peace,
Finds fleeting comfort in a brief release,
These fragile trinkets we so fiercely crave,
Ignoring lessons that the ages gave.


Possessiveness, a shadow we uncover slow,
Steals the true richness that begins to flow.
And humbling it is, the destined fall,
When what ascends must yield its all.


Yesterday, whose hand did gently bind?
Today, I hold, tomorrow, gone with the wind.
We know the cycle, yet we cannot free
Ourselves from sorrow's clinging decree.
Perhaps the path where attachments cease to grind,
Unveils a deeper peace for the heart and the mind.