By the sunlight

By the sunlight she strolls in silent reflection,
tasting the wind in her soul,
breathing in the verses it inspires
her mind ablaze as usual
with the stunning words of master quills
remembered and cherished so often.

Adding her own style of eloquence
as a mental paintbrush
creating her own canvas of beauty.

Strolling between the layers of daily demands,
artist of the heart
ever flowing from her essence.

It touches everyone she meets,
gracing them with smiles,
moving inside as a growing flower,
blossoming in due season.

A poet who blends into paths of life,
making them richer
because of her presence,
which always sharing her own bouquets of literary joy.

Knots

The cords of life extend from everywhere we’ve been,
from lives, loves, places and the experiences known
to tie their knot unto the heart that can’t be forgotten
regardless of where the winds of time drive us.

For those are the ropes that lasso the mind
and hold us bound to all that we feel and believe,
they are never cut no matter how hard we try
because they remain a constant part of who we are.

Some create strands that are wrapped around our existence,
which might feel so tight and ready to strangle our joy,
yet inside where the heart throbs its truest beat,
where we honestly dwell in our thoughts and dreams,
those are the threads of our ties to all that surrounds,
totally keep us bonded so completely,
so utterly connected as if they were roots.

When we embrace them as vines of joy
instead of something that might snare our freedom,
then they form a swing that we use
for treating them as having the power
to sway us on a continual breeze of happiness.

Just Another Saturday Day

It started out another weekend at home,
our adobe pre-fab helium inflated house
we got from this Indian construction man
who also sells Amway in urns
for those that need it to help their dead relatives.

Well he stopped by to give us some free tickets
on this new, super secret solar powered nuclear train
that he helped build as part of this government project,
which nobody is suppose to know about.

So we road in our car the fifty miles to get to the station
truly amazed that water in gas tank
actually turned to as after we added some golf balls
like we read in that magazine.

Then took the elevator up to the third floor
totally amazed how it was made of chocolate,
but was very thrilled to board that super train.

Rode it at the speed of light to the pyramids
where we had luck from a cater truck
made to look like a camel,
and had a terrific conversation with a giant
that invented turkeys when he worked at the White House.

Afterwards we took the journey home
with three aliens as companions
they lived in France and delivered roses
to some spies that hide under the Eiffel tower
they came back to our house
where we spent the night watching
old movies on DVD and eating blue caramel popcorn.

OOPS

Oh the tragedy
such a lost to humanity,
alien with secrets of universe
visiting to save our butts.

Too bad his craft
looked like an egg
and he misread the map,
landed in a public park,
rolled under a bush
next to a sleeping transient.

Didn't have a chance
to utter, "I come in peace"
before being smashed!

Never Undone

She kept replaying the moment
desperate to rewrite the error.

Her soul mate's face
departed
burning with pain.

Regret killing
discovering his betrayal
never happened.

Now she prays for forgiveness.
Sobbing shadows consume.

Door opens, he returns,
kisses overpower words,
God smiling,
hearts he unites
never undone
by stumbling lips.

Devotion And Desire

I saw donuts
in the store window,
visiting everyday.

Was given brownies
by a street vendor,
never saw donuts again.

Destination

Each step I took
brought a tear,
the sky always leaden
and threatening.

Hope's wind
never touched my life,
leaving my heart
strangled
in the beguiling shadows
of loneliness.

Until I came
upon your face,
seeing in your merciful eyes
a sanctuary ending my travail,
where love became
my destination.

Space Husbandry

Distractions thunder terrorizes in taunting torture
ripping the mind's cosmic epiphany garden.

Seeds of silvery sagacity are strewn in the soul's sailing seconds
across the silvery furrows in contemplative soil,
flowering in vibrant auras of creative starburst's illuminating bouquets.

Endless Hunger

Sunrise ignites the memories
of the times we had together,
when my hands would eagerly caress
that smooth slender skin
utterly left spellbound
by the way those touches
would push all the right buttons
and suddenly we would be swept away
unto such amazing heights
to so many stunning seconds
totally enraptured by the ways
each experience brought waves of incredible ecstasy,
such powerful and intense moments
that left me utterly speechless
from how this time together
had the volatile volcanic feel,
which left its vivid memory
so indelibly etched on my brain.

But then I was forced to move
and we had to separate
amid a tearful final parting,
how each day I still burn with a hunger
to taste that encounter again.

Alas, fate has been merciless,
it left me no way to reclaim
what I have lost
for my current cable company
has no remote controls
able to rival what you did for me.

Ladders

Steps built in vision's metal
reach if fervent stretches towards grapes
clustered in tomorrow's sky,
juice tasted in the mouth
makes the mind drool
for a chance to squeeze
them in the hands
until you feel all
that is drunk in one's dreams.

So busy gazing at the hope
and lusting
for its illusive prize
while forgetting the need
to nail together
the ladders for ascension,
which make the journey real.

There is no sky out of reach
if one doesn't forget
you can't touch the heaven in your head
without a hammer in your hand.

Severed

All the butterfly hearts she had ever known
only danced at the end of somebody’s string,
they could flutter and sway like being free,
but to someone they were just a puppet
simply obeying the lines that they controlled.

Then life began when she said no
to merely being able to fly by another’s command
never truly having any real liberty
beyond the way somebody moved the wires.

Oh hard it was to take the scissors
and sever the connection with that power
for it meant you had to trust to the wind,
and live by choices rather than fear.

Wasn’t easy dancing on your own
where no one decided your steps,
yet there was such joy in the sense
every move you made was by your choice.

Sometimes still she dreams those memories
of being one more dangled creature
by the will of another person’s mastery,
each pain and misery mixed together in flashbacks
before she is able to return to the present
unto to be in a place without some hand
able to tug at her and dictate what she can do next.

The Little Gestures

Hidden beneath a blanket of quiet,
were her thoughts of him as she walked into the bedroom alone,
not expecting miracles since she thought her love was on a trip.

But then saw the familiar lump under the covers,
pulling them back to find his smiling face waiting to surprise her.

It wasn't the only joy she discovered,
for his traveled had been to a place that specialized in enlarging private parts,
seeing the fruit of his journey rose in glory to greet her smile
eagerly crawling into bed for some moments of new heighten pleasures
hidden beneath her blanket of expectations.

Another's Day's Catch

Rowing through the ebony stillness of watery womb in sustenance
he watches through earlier morning weary eyes,
children sleeping in trust father will feed their stomachs,
wife stares at him from the window
weeps from hunger over two days he's failed to fill his nets.

She wipes away the tears and remembers seasons
when his catch nearly sunk his boat.
Putting another stick in the fire pit
to help her teapot boil,
prepares the last of their rice
before looking up at candlelit urn of parents
and golden statue of Buddha
part of her wants to scream over the cruelty of survival
the other find an answer to why
both parents died in one year from pneumonia.

The morning's chilled air won't be stopped by the fire,
but she tries to ignore the ache in her bones
by pulling her paper thin blanket around her frail form,
letting out one last sniffle, then gazing out again
at her husband fleeting image.

In his boat with paddle stroking so methodically slow
his mind holds onto the image of his wife,
hoping love will help guide him to the place
where his nets will bring one more day of life to his family.

Lifting up his eyes at the panorama of saffron and cinnamon sky
then back at wooden village where he always lived,
it once inspired a Haiku he gave to his wife
remembering how as a child it was a sanctuary
that his parents created with affection and no hate.
Dropping his nets in the place he prayers will have fortune,
not for glory or riches,
just to try and preserve the same magic in the eyes of his kids
through the silent steadfast labors,
which is gold for empty stomachs
if he comes home bearing
another day's catch.

The Find Print

Lost between the assurances and the smiles,
gazes promising it is no big deal
with trust me lips,
the fine print soothes the mind so seductively,
when there is detail, no matter its real value,
and with it comes power from phantom light bulbs,
surging with feigned credibility.

But alas,
our eyes see what they want to see,
bearing the voices of our heart
in sudden quickening of impulse,
finding so many giants of threat among the impotent gnomes,
missing the smallest clarity of profound
through orbs blurred
from focusing on what
has no pulse,
yet we give life.

One truly capturing vivid,
in a trance of deluded greatness
where denial sees truth
under an arrogant microscope,
never knowing the forest in the mind,
hidden behind the trees of imagined urgency
we grow in our garden of insignificance.

Zeniths Of Zany Zealot’s Zest

Oh the pride and passion of those
who crave to ride the sky
in this long slender, colored helium balloons,
to soar with such obsession
as a passenger in a Zeppelin,
the thrills, the experience of moving
at a slow and steady pace
across the air and above the ground.

It has been the craving
of those eagle hearts,
the ones with clouds in their veins,
they can’t dwell upon the ground
and feel content over any walk.

So they rise by the power of gas,
higher and higher into the heavens,
not swift like a jet,
but at a pace that lets one
truly enjoy the ascension.

Time has not killed
what burns inside
for the few who long
a chance to be among the few
that bounce on the wind current,
gently drift towards the horizon,
maybe let it make them occasionally crazy,
yet it is all part of the fun.

Sidewalks

We walk those concrete ribbons
surrounded by the electrified spires,
the endless citadels that cradle power,
each avenue of festively festooned facades,
which infuse the hour with their cosmetic allure.

But it doesn’t silence the emptiness inside
from the hollowness that lies behind
each gem of construction
that glistens in the subtle shimmer
of the artificial constellations
ever burning through the windows of their domains.

Still we stroll, vagabonds of conformity,
who wander beneath the smog rich milky sky,
where every sunrise awakes the monotonous sloth within
to rise as a predator and numb our eyes
unto the illusion this metropolis paints,
just souls left to recant our dreams,
squander our liberty to sustain our reality
amid the erosion of our hopes.

Constantly groping for some place
beyond the chaos of submission
and find a mirror we can see
not making us feel like clones and clowns.
Perhaps at last to know the cherished elation
from truth not hidden behind walls,
instead find refuge for our desire’s liberty
rather than a stellar tent we lease for so many heartbeats.

Sweet Ache

Luscious mounds of succulent dreams,
icy zest melting intoxicatingly in the mouth
taking one to a heaven
on a frozen, sugary magic carpet.

So many flavor to tempt
cones to hold the craving,
devoured tell the teeth ache,
smiling in the ecstasy
from the blend of pain and joy.

One scoop or two
that is the question
how many flashes of burning
can a person inhale with that tasty texture.

Decisions, decisions
at least thirty one different choices,
perhaps two at one,
double the pleasure,
double the ache.

Leaving with mouth frozen
face sticky, but lips in heaven.

Days later the love affair
will give birth to inches at the waist,
hopefully the romance and joy
are worth that agony.

Conversations

Midnight's deadline for sleep looms in the mind like fearing a serial killer in the closet
sweat makes my clothes cling to body from summer's relentless heat.

Rocking my grandson, his droopy eyes so trusting, but fighting sandman's whispers,
I looked over at my exhausted son on the couch, amazed at how love has many voices.

It burrows deep into the recesses of my cerebral Kodak crypt
flashbacks of heartbeats lived in silence without a family's sonnet spoken,
that was penned this eve by sway and hugs, soul wrapped in the sensory quill's sentences.

Scenery

I sat in his living room
amid his collection of souvenirs
from the many travels he had taken,
each collected to prove he had journeyed
even if he couldn’t recall
a single detail about the scenery
of those places he had experienced.

He was just to busy
consumed with the urging to find his haven
the single spot he had no fears,
so he sat, back arched over by arthritis,
feet now suffering from other age caused problems,
unable to remember any place he had encountered.

To some he was successful, accomplished
and a paragon of achievement,
yet I saw a hallow sadness in his eyes,
they conveyed what he would honestly only say
through subtle hints in his conversation
about his regrets over not spending more time
truly discovering the beauty and value
present wherever he had been.

Sweet Ache

Luscious mounds of succulent dreams,
icy zest melting intoxicatingly in the mouth
taking one to a heaven
on a frozen, sugary magic carpet.

So many flavor to tempt
cones to hold the craving,
devoured tell the teeth ache,
smiling in the ecstasy
from the blend of pain and joy.

One scoop or two
that is the question
how many flashes of burning
can a person inhale with that tasty texture.

Decisions, decisions
at least thirty one different choices,
perhaps two at one,
double the pleasure,
double the ache.

Leaving with mouth frozen
face sticky, but lips in heaven.

Days later the love affair
will give birth to inches at the waist,
hopefully the romance and joy
are worth that agony.

Crippled

Manicured mantle of emerald blades
withering under a winter's sky
turning honey hues of lethargy's limpness,
hinting at the crippled essence
decaying in the owner's hollow existence
whose desire castle they once proudly adorned.

He sits in the clutter of his fancy,
morgue climate dominating
its luxuriant decor,
insides turning cold and empty,
sullen spirit frozen without feelings,
life's flame nearly extinguished
the more his being
became beguiled by Midas' lusts.

Solemn seconds pass unnoticed
ears still hearing the echoes
of missing children and wife,
who fled love's death at the hands of greed,
unable to endure arms that grabbed
and were too handicapped
by a lack of ability to hug.

Sun burns the deadness the neighbors see
a golden brown grassy carpet
never watered or cared about
because their guardian
they once saw as knight
traded a fertile reality with tender winged spirits
cast aside his armor for a coffer of coins,
heart leaded down with stones of indifference.

DOLLAR DAZE

How prosperous
is a cloud
or the flowers
in the field?
Yet they lack
for nothing
or worry about
a pay check.
So are we
Really
better off
than these
who aren’t a slave
unto a time clock?
I wonder at times,
especially when
all the trinkets of my little
world
find a reason
to break.

Sheltered

Snuggled in my liar composed of reason's transparencies
surrounded by all my surreal murals of denial,
closing my eyes when seeing any gap
that exposes the world outside.

Discomfort stabs from sensing my conscience
shrouded in a mourner's robe
while lying and wasting away in my closet
where I hide fake reality's trophies.

Sometimes a bird of fancy flees
running into a wall of excuses.
I slowly drift off to lethargy's coma
grateful it gives me a reason not to learn how to fly.

Thank God it isn't Monday

My dreams would be of a subtle faire
for wouldn't want to make them obvious,
little things last forever, smiles that don't end.
Start with having all the signal lights turning green,
boss who turns human and actually doesn't lie,

Family acting like angels instead of ogres
discovering a bag of cash along side of road, without witnesses,
having the most greasy, sugary feast for lunch that didn't kill my body,
being given rest of day off at work, with a raise and promotion
before a nice alien lady abducts me for the afternoon in her spaceship.

Rest is censored don't you know, this is my fantasy, got to cope with Saturday,
not one to have close encounter and tell when boasting gets you busted,
but sure hope aliens are immune to those little social sicknesses.

My Opiate

Noon bursts as an infectious nymph
lacing the mind with a figment's legerdemain
possessing each fiber of cerebral tissue,
hissing an eerie kaleidoscope fairy tale vision
into one's spectacle of reality.

Blood coagulates with dementia's toxins,
fearing the imaginary paramours
from toddler havens
will rise like vampires
and suck the last of one's sanity.

But paranoia's fleeting behemoth mirages,
are devoured by fantasia's predators.

In the clash of surrogate gods
one clings to a whimsy pharmacy,
swallowing a succulent mood
from the advertising drug lords.

It feels so intoxicating
as the commercialized esteem fix hits the mind.

Suddenly, the world becomes
a collage of surreal gnomes,
pastel ecstasy replaces black and white murals,
overdosing in the imbibed delusion
numbed to any carnage,
dreaming of the next
diversion's score.

Dream Sight

Clouds swirl in the mind
writing elegant weather tales
with eyes closed so can't see it is raining.

Sitting on a stack of directories for free snacks
contemplating the growl
gnawing at one's stomach.

Can of beans sitting lap with a can opener,
starving while using fantasy force to invent its top removal,
fainting while holding opener's instruction manual,
hunger headache excuse for not reading directions.

Fete of Luminary Communion

Opulent incandescent globules radiant with the efficacious effulgence
replete with panoplies of myriad tinctures resiliently effervescent
drape in the harmonic illumined tapestry shrouding in its shimmering splendor
beguiled and bewitched in the elegant ephemeral kaleidoscope panorama
serendipity's sanguine supplication elongates in ominous oblation.

Melancholy's pallor surrenders to lustrous allures in iridescent arrays
palpitating a diaphanous symphonic resonance in numinous echoes
infused by the ever transcending easel of shimmer's litany of lucidity
night enraptures with gossamer chains of magenta, emerald, lavender and cerulean
visiting the soul as opiate hues in this mesmerizing fete of luminary communion.

Blank Pages

Blank pages smother the mind's drafting board,
imagination's ink is dammed beyond a wall of distraction,
creativity's eyes are blurry and unable to focus,
somewhere the brain sees paradise,
but the bridge of verse has collapsed.

It doesn't take dynamite to get invention's fluids flowing again,
nor some mighty thunderous shake inside,
just a feather, a single plume of experience
that strokes softly with whispers of light
to come and see what was ignored
while fretting over one's pen slumbering.

Move beyond the known,
let the head be lifted to clouds of calm,
drift awhile until peace soothes the chaos,
exhale the angst and silence the ghosts who murmur
how this moment of stagnation is writer's rigor mortis.

Valleys come to everyone that follows the muse,
falling into shadows, no longer hearing the song within,
but the path always returns to the mountain top
when we let the heart fly with wings unfettered by stress.

Indigo Eclipses

She pulls back the drapes to see the night
praying he will arrive soon to ease her cravings
bringing his strokes of serene indigo petals
that will eclipse her eve's ache for flaming desire.
Her insides fill with memories of his last visit
when she felt his touch in all her craving fissures.

But he always torments with delays, knowing the anguish it causes.
Still the spell he bring with a flowery azure soothing power
so touches in ways she never imagined before.

At last the door bell ring, she races to great him,
taking his prize, enticed by its sapphire shadowy cover,
inhale his offering, cooing from take out pizza always being perfect.

Time clock temptations

Ravenous eyes sense that co-worker's hunger,
feeling it in the bones, an ache, the tension torments,
hands take hands, looking both ways, words unspoken,
slipping into a storage room, locking it for precaution,
heated seconds strip the dressing's away, naked flesh kisses the forbidden.

Pounding hips grind against hips,
subdued groans explode from the dynamite of pure, unchained lust,
orgasms writhe two sweaty tangled bodies, freeing desires, so restrained,
dressed, panting, hair straightened, smile and one last kiss never confessed,
lunch hour at the office, a different meal.

ISLAND, SMILING AND SIGHING

From a Gourmet who knows yuck from yum
with the stomach pumped bills to prove it!

If I were to have my favorite isle of food to wish
I want Convenience Store's sandwiches that are so delish,
ah the variety, ah the suspense that you just can't beat
from discovering if that gray stuff inside was really lunch meat!

Then surround me with a root beer sea
that is so frothy, foaming and tasty
granting me a chance to always say
some perfect burp, come what may.

It all would be the most glorious island heaven
where I could live by weeks with days of seven
snacking and guzzling to my heart's content
without having to spend a single cent.