Hobbies - Poetry - BitterSweet2
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    Rising from the sea,
    Blinding me,
    Hundreds of droplets desperately clinging to your bare skin
    Then giving in with anguished splash cries to gravitationís hungry fingers,
    Streaking towards calling mother earth,
    Exploding in flashes of delight,
    Their wet hearts sparkling in the beauty of a dazzling last microscopic lightning,
    The memory of your skinís touch their destruction,
    Their consuming fire,
    Their blessed last moment of hellís embrace...

    Rising from the sea,
    Rolling in the sand,
    Millions of silica rocks leaving their warm nests
    For the scorching nest of your bodyís landscape,
    Arrogant mountains, rough plains, precipitous crevices,
    Cool lakes,
    Cocooning you in a thick shapeless layer,
    Molding itself constantly in the ever changing shape of your body,
    Holding hands, breaking away, newcomers claiming renewed ownership,
    Grinding against each other, pushing, scrambling for a place close to life,
    Close to the rivers of melted fire crisscrossing wildly in the depths,
    Deep underneath your skin clothing,
    Close to the welcoming softness of your abdicating flesh...

    Rising from the sea,
    Wading through the wind, through air,
    Thousands of miniature skin bumps your only garment,
    Woven into your skin by long, thin fairy fingers,
    Competing in beauty with your ruby tipped breasts,
    Pitting their numerous armies in a long battle for supremacy
    Then giving in to the bodyís call
    And adorning rather than fighting along your thighs, back,
    Battling for a place of honor round your nipplesí roots,
    A wild, rugged landscape,
    Rippling with the pleasures of freshness carried by a caressing sea breath,
    The forests of soft hair along their crests undulating like proud flags,
    Cool shadows in the endless valleys,
    Miniature sunshines reflecting from their salt crystal tipped peaks...

    Then I came.
    Wiped the water,
    Brushed away the sand,
    Set fire to your skin,
    Made love to you
    Conquering your mountains, valleys, wild landscape...
    I, the conqueror.
    You, my master.

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Mixed Senses...

    The smile hanging at the corners of your eyes,
    A tear sliding from your lips,
    Your voice... I can taste it,
    Smooth, sweet, rolling lazily in my mouth,
    Tasting like music,
    Like the perfume of your thoughts,
    Drunken with the whiffs of lust emanating from the depths of your passion,
    Touching your blue,
    Your skin glistening with the sweat of fulfilling the promise,
    I see the salty smell,
    Enveloping me, blinding my ears,
    Deafening my eyes,
    Oh, the smell of you, the taste, the sound,
    The sight,
    The touch,
    Drunken beyond return and reason
    In a world of my own
    Where senses lose meaning
    And my only link to reality is one single window...

    Then reality crudely kicks in,
    And smell is smell, and sight is sight,
    And pain unending...

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Black And Letters...

    Painters can,
    I envy painters.
    They can paint skies,
    They can mix colors, every imaginable shade of blue, violet, red,
    They can create every unnamed memory of yellow, of green, of lines,
    Touching the surface,
    The brush with a random mind of its own
    An extension of the painterís hand, heart,
    Flowing in a unique stream of shapeless events Frozen forever in a time frame of their own,
    For eyes to absorb,
    To feel, to touch, to drown...

    Painters are allowed,
    I envy painters.
    They are allowed to describe shapes,
    Intimately touching forbidden corners,
    Forgotten corners,
    The softness of an offered breast,
    The roundness of a body skyline,
    The fire of burning passion under closed eyelids,
    Details blinding, clutching at senses,
    Shapes permeated by an overwhelming desire,
    For eyes to follow,
    To imagine, to dream...

    Poets can not.
    Poets are not allowed.
    Poets are given one color, black,
    A white canvas,
    A few letters,
    One pen.
    Poets are not painters. Can poets paint?
    Can they break the black into dazzling rainbows,
    Are they allowed to touch intimacy,
    Touch, describe, show,
    Can eyes follow the poetís brush?
    Can poets paint?

    I met you.
    And you went through the pains of showing me how to see my black,
    How to hold my hand, read the letters,
    How to use my mindís infant brushes and teach them,
    Teach them to break the black, to break the letters,
    Break their mixture into all the bluish tones of the skies,
    The purple tones of sunset and blood,
    The kaleidoscope tones of flower beds drowning under butterfly clouds,
    Teach them to paint a breast, a smiling mouth, a quivering lip,
    To mix black and mix letters and burn the white of the canvas
    Into smoldering charred witness to the fires of passion.

    You taught me.
    The beauty of the prettiest, wildest of all colors,
    The colors of momentary change,
    Of shared dreams,
    Of fading far away whispers,
    The colors of your choice,
    My colors.
    Our colors.

    I donít envy painters.
    You taught me the beauty of my colors.
    Black. And letters.

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    I waited for you,
    In the rain,
    I made a special request to heavenís orderlies
    And they agreed to the deal -
    Weíll provide the rain,
    Then weíll take whatever we wish.
    It was fine with me -
    You provide the rain and then take whatever you wish,
    What do I have that is of such value to you
    Compared to your rain for me?...

    I waited for you,
    In the rain,
    Head up to the sky,
    Mouth open, eyes open,
    Arms stretched out to the sides of my naked body,
    Drinking, absorbing,
    Feet deep in the warm mud of puddles mixing with leaves,
    Cool drops drilling into my body,
    Tickling rivulets pouring down my skin,
    Small blobs building along the thinning extremities of hair ends
    Till the call of the long fall to earth became too strong a burden
    Rushing them to an awaiting death...
    Waiting for you to come,
    To run your wet fingertips through my hair, along my spine, my legs,
    Your wet arms encircling my waist,
    Your wet breasts rubbing against my trembling chest,
    Our wet bodies crushing with a terrible splash into the stinging wet grass
    In the spasms of wet love...

    I waited for you,
    In the rain.
    You didnít come.

    And the rain is over,
    And dark sunshine pours into the world,
    And the heavenly orderlies are over to this side claiming their due.
    I will pay,
    What do I have of any value to them?
    My life?
    They are welcome,
    There is no rain in my life anymore.

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    Two lives,
    Two planes,
    Separated by intricate mathematics of chance and probability,
    Unknown formulas which created the yesterdays
    Unknown rules governing the tomorrows,
    The today fuzzy and amorphous.
    I tried to develop the knowledge,
    To find the secret tunnels connecting the planes,
    Trying parallel universes, magical words, unrealities,
    Filling pages upon pages with trial and error experiments,
    Then scrapping pages upon pages of useless information,
    All the while the one incorruptible arbiter indifferently marking points against me,
    Marking minutes, hours, days...

    Misery, pain...
    Is this the only secret passage
    Allowing me to redefine the laws of this world,
    Bringing the two evolving planes within touch of each other?
    Within... contact,
    Blinding explosion...
    End? Beginning?

    I keep searching,
    Impossibilities are endless,
    One solution only, unknown,
    Will the incorruptible arbiter allow for just one bit of corruption,
    Just enough to tell me
    I will get there... ever... or never?

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Dreams, Wishes, Hope, Luck, Reality...

    I know the definition of dreams,
    Realities locked in the infinite labyrinths of our minds
    Created by the spark of God burning in each of us,
    Rushing through the infinite maze at a volition of their own,
    Times uncontrollable, times unavoidable, times painful,
    Times beautifully colored with spring, with summer,
    With falling leaves, snow, sparkling brooks,
    Heart linking to mind linking to life,
    A world beyond reach,
    Further away than the moon, than the stars,
    All the laws of the world we know,
    The laws of dreams we do not,
    So close to us, so remote,
    So unattainable.

    I know the definition of wishes,
    Paths from dreams to reality,
    Paths we want to create, to destroy,
    Sometimes calling them prayers,
    Other times calling them curses, songs, whispers,
    Holding hands,
    Colorful sunsets, smiles, promises of forever,
    The bridge anchored into the unattainable,
    Stretching over the wide impossible,
    And endlessly searching for a foothold into slippery realityís banks.

    I know the definition of hope,
    Dreams inside dreams,
    Dreams inside wishes,
    Cobwebs hiding sight and reason and reality,
    Holding in place castles hanging above crevasses,
    Clothing crumbling mountains with an indestructible net,
    Linking dragonsí might to depths of despair
    And invoking the outer worldly into this world to keep the link intact,
    To blow power in the dragons,
    To ease the weight of despair,
    To open the one way door from dream to reality.

    I know the definition of luck,
    When the cobwebs turn steel mesh,
    And the door opens,
    And one spark of the dream pours into reality,
    And the door closes again,
    The meaningless lottery of life.

    I know the definition of reality.
    Dream stays dream,
    Wish stays prayer,
    Hope stays pain,
    And luck is a statistical event void of poetry, beauty, and warmth.

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    You sensed me behind your shoulder,
    You could not see me,
    But you sensed me,
    You turned your head back sharply, wildly,
    Like an animal,
    Your eyes red and swollen,
    Your lips drawn in a mix of snarl, grin and hope,
    Your fingers groped at empty space trying to get hold of that presence,
    You knew I was there,
    I returned,
    I was never away yet I returned,
    And you lifted your head letting my invisible lips touch your neck
    And you opened your shirt letting my invisible hands grab your breasts
    And you opened your lips letting my invisible teeth bite them,
    You sighed, you moaned,
    Unconcerned about those around you,
    They, invisible to you the way I was,
    But me... you could feel, you could feel my touch,
    You could feel no oneís touch but mine,
    As I ravaged your body in senseless savagery
    As your laughter suddenly roared like a tigress her hunger satisfied
    As you finally cuddled against my disembodied presence
    And together we floated home...

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    Watched the train
    The train was parting
    Parting way into the west,
    Wish I was
    I was the flower
    Flower tight against your chest...

    Watched the smoke
    The smoke was lifting
    Lifting way into the sky,
    Wish I was
    I was the flower
    Flower drying in your eye...

    Watched the lamp
    The lamp was dying
    Dying way the one-way trail,
    Wish I was
    I was the flower
    Flower squashed upon the rail...

    Yes I do, I do remember as the wagons rolled in town
    Wagons rolled one starlit evening masking moonís eternal crown,
    Down you came, you came forever to seed springs into my life
    To seed springs into my winters till the clouds are flowers rife.

    Yes I do, I do remember as your sight my wishes shaped
    As your sight the dying embers of my passion wildly raped,
    Cloaked in beads, in beads of rolling gold along a moonbeam thread
    Gold along despairing fingers as the bodies fire wed.

    Yes I do, I do remember as you dressed in naked skin
    As you dressed in snow-white satin glowing in your sated sin,
    Errs a heart, a heart is lonesome as a wagon swallows you
    Lonesome is my orphaned glory recollecting... yes, I do...

    Watched the train
    The train was parting
    Parting way. An empty nest.
    Wish I was
    I was the flower
    Flower tight against your chest...

    Watched the smoke
    The smoke was lifting
    Lifting way. An empty lie.
    Wish I was
    I was the flower
    Flower drying in your eye...

    Watched the lamp
    The lamp was dying
    Dying way. An empty tale.
    Wish I was
    I was the flower
    Flower squashed upon the rail...

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    Riding, riding, riding, riding,
    Nightlong riding, daylong hiding,
    Garments torn of lowly beggar,
    In his folds a long sharp dagger,
    Long the ridges, down the valleys,
    Through wild forestsí shadowed alleys,
    Riding, hiding, riding, hiding,
    Endless miles the fury striding,

    Trotting, trotting, trotting trotting,
    Endless trotting, ceaseless frothing,
    Beats the hoof its silent thunder
    Tearing night from night asunder,
    Long the rivers, down the mountains,
    Cutting paths through dirty fountains,
    Trotting, frothing, trotting, frothing,
    Frozen sea in eyesight clotting,

    Sweating, sweating, sweating, sweating,
    Mare a sweating, mind a fretting,
    Hind of lashes vicious visions
    Ripping heart with deep incisions
    Through the senses pouring ire
    With a mind on sword and fire,
    Sweating, fretting, sweating, fretting,
    Dripping blood the saddle wetting,

    Night has fallen, fallen, fallen, moonless skies adorn the trek,
    Shivers run from hoof to rider as he moves through wreck, through wreck,
    Sharp the stench, the stench, the rubble steaming up through clouds of dust,
    Bolts the horse, his drying gashes breaking crust, then crust, then crust.

    Kneels the rider side of timber, timber, timber, charred to stone,
    Trembling hands pick piece of clothing, clothing, clothing, bone, and bone,
    Little, little, copper, copper, shoe, and shoe, and ring, and ring,
    Eyes unseeing, eyes unseeing, linen dress and beads on string.

    Softly, softly, tender, tender, crumbling embers out of way,
    Withered flesh from pools of darkness, darkness, darkness, comes away,
    Blooms the pain in silence, silence, silence screaming ripping chest,
    Wife, and son, and daughter, daughter, dog, and dog, to lay to rest.

    Mounds of earth, of earth are steaming lined beyond the forest edge,
    Horse is snorting, man is howling, howling, howling raging pledge
    Red be flowing, red be flowing, steaming rivers reeking death,
    As through mind, through mind, through body cuts a breeze of icing breath.

    Whatís this noise like crawling, crawling, crawling logs on rugged ground,
    Whatís this feel of scratching, scratching, scratching nails through whining sound?
    Way you go, you cruel vision, vision, vision born in hell,
    Life is none, is none, is buried draped in choking clouds of smell.

    From his crouching, crouching posture swollen eyes he lifts, he lifts,
    Out the depths, the depths of forest one huge shape towards him drifts,
    As his hand, his hand the sharpness of the metal, metal grabs
    Limping, limping, limping nears him and the muzzle softly jabs.

    ďUrsus, Ursus, faithful servant, strong of mind and low of scowl,
    Lion hearted, lion hearted, sharp of fang and deep of growl,
    Was your power, power, power, you and brothers fearsome two
    Not enough the deadly, deadly, deadly cowards to subdue?Ē

    Slowly back into the forest, to the forest limps the dog,
    Dark the puss his back adorning thickened, thickened stinking fog,
    Till a clump of thorny bushes where he falls, he falls, he lies,
    Near a pair of dirty, dirty, dirty cheeks and frightened eyes.

    Deep the spasm, the spasm of torment running cross the riderís chest,
    As his fragile, fragile daughter picks to heart from thorny nest,
    Five her winters, five her winters, just one seed to live through slay,
    Flowing tears for counted moments quell the grief, the grief away.

    Dark the forest, dark the forest, cool the shadow, cool the shadow,
    Way beyond the edge of forest, hidden meadow, meadow, meadow,
    Low the fire, boils the water, gentle, gentle deadly hands
    Feed the child, the wounds scrap gently, round the dog roll bands, roll bands.

    Seven days, then days more seven, seven nights, then nights, then nights,
    Sneaking through forgotten passes, valleys, valleys, heights, and heights,
    Reaching that forgotten cottage, cottage, cottage, poor of shape,
    Rich in love of man and woman, seven babes, and seven babes.

    On the porch he seats his baby, baby, baby sweet of cheek,
    In his eye the hopeless morrow, painted grey, and bleak, and bleak,
    One far look, far look, he watches as the woman hugs the child,
    And his eye stones trace of softness, and his heart roves wild, roves wild.

    Back his footsteps, back his footsteps, back his footsteps man, horse, dog,
    One long moment, one long moment by the mounds and scattered log,
    Spreading seeds of wildest berry, berry, berry top the ground,
    Last regard he slowly passes, mound, then mound, then mound, then mound.

    Sharp the dagger, long and deadly, deadly, deadly sharp of tang,
    Sharp the fang, wild mean and deadly dog and fang, and fang, and fang,
    Sharp the nail, short hard and deadly dressing hoof, then hoof, then hoof,
    Shivers nightís unseeing kingdom, shivers hellís star lighted roof.

    Sweating, sweating, sweating, sweating,
    Mare a sweating, mind a fretting,
    Red the fury, hooves, and gallop,
    Heaving chests as break and scallop,
    Through the senses pouring ire,
    Red be flowing hot like fire,
    Sweating, fretting, sweating, fretting,
    Endless blood the saddle wetting,

    Trotting, trotting, trotting trotting,
    Endless trotting, ceaseless frothing,
    White the fury, fang, and growling,
    Ripping throats affrighted howling,
    Long the rivers, down the mountains,
    Red be flowing down the fountains,
    Trotting, frothing, trotting, frothing,
    Endless cold the eyesight clotting,

    Riding, riding, riding, riding,
    Nightlong riding, daylong hiding,
    Black the fury, black the dagger,
    Slashing wildly lofty swagger,
    Long the ridges, down the valleys,
    Red be flowing long the alleys,
    Riding, hiding, riding, hiding,
    Endlessly the fury striding,

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    Nestling against me like a thick layer of melting ice cream,
    Soft, sticky, sweet,
    Binding me in thin crystalline fibers
    So beautiful, intricate,

    Grazing against me like a wars wary steel brushes colony,
    Rough, coarse, abrasive,
    Biting through my skin into my blood
    So bitterly, demanding,

    Pouring all over me like road ready black bubbling tar,
    Hot, steamy, consuming,
    Peeling off layers of the disturbing cage
    Hiding the heart, touching,
    Afraid to kill.

    Cutting right through me like a well oiled well balanced harpoon,
    Sharp, powerful, deadly,
    Cutting off the spine in two
    Unwillingly, trying to mend,

    Lifting me up like an army of wingless sightless butterflies
    Eager in their thirst for the colors of the setting yawning sun,
    Enveloping me like a rain of stemless scentless petals
    Eager in their hunger for the fire of the rising singing sun,
    Hiding me in transparencies like a memory of soundless rhymeless melodies
    Eager in their desire to praise the pouring passion of the scorching engulfing sun.

    Loving me,
    Like a wingless, sightless butterfly,
    Like a stemless, scentless petal,
    Like a soundless, rhymeless melody,
    Mistaking me for the sun,
    I, but a man...

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I Feel You...

    I feel you, woman,
    I feel you the way you felt your child burst into this world
    Ripping your insides,
    Tearing your outer shell with involuntary need
    Forcing its way into the world its scream mixing with yours,
    Terrible pain, terrible love, so close to death and so close to heaven,
    Is pain, love, death, heaven... one?

    I feel you, woman,
    I feel you the way you felt your child looking at this world through your eyes
    Clutching desperately at your breast in insatiable hunger,
    Your nipples hurting
    With boiling tears in your eyes witnessing your joy not your hurt,
    Terrible pain, terrible love, such raging life and such raging hunger,
    Is pain, love, life, hunger... one?

    I feel you, woman,
    I feel you the way you felt your child grasping a lock of your hair
    Searching for your protection,
    Pulling savagely
    Its primitive fear calmed only by the loud thunder inside your chest,
    Terrible pain, terrible love, awesome need and awesome urge,
    Is pain, love, need, urge... one?

    I feel you, woman,
    I feel you the way I feel my child,
    Pain, love, death, heaven, life, hunger, need, urge...
    Lie in my arms, woman, softly go to sleep,
    Safe, secure, serene,
    You are safe in my arms, woman,
    Like your child was in yours,
    Like my child in mine.

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    Nobody needs you more than I do. Nobody.
    Nobody gets as little of you as I do. Nobody.
    Nobody asks less of you than I do.

    While the days crawl to the ocean
    Like a poisoned lazy potion
    Sinking dregs of wild desire
    In the sun to sunset mire,
    While the buzz of life is churning
    Like a biting fire burning
    Forests sown wild craving wishes
    Off the face of crummy dishes,
    While the nights limp into nether
    Like a yarn of dying heather
    Scented wild demented passion
    Crumbling lights to hellish ashen...

    Nobody has more of you than I do.

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    I bought a bouquet of flowers,
    I tried to make a drawing of love with flowers,
    There were not enough flowers in my bouquet.

    I started pulling off the petals,
    One by one, slowly,
    First the red, then the red, then the rest of the red ones,
    I tried to make a drawing of love with petals,
    There were many more petals than flowers,
    There were not enough petals in my flowers.

    I added the leaves, the stems,
    The curly wrapping ribbon,
    I cut the colored wrapping paper to pieces and added it to the pile,
    I tried to make a drawing of love with all of them,
    There were not enough petals, leaves, ribbons, shreds of colored paper,
    Then the wind came and tore away most of the petals,
    And the paper, and leaves,
    I felt like crying.

    I cut open my chest,
    I tried to make a drawing of love with blood drops,
    There were many blood drops in my chest,
    More than petals, more than flowers, more than bouquets,
    I thought I saw it taking shape, form, color,
    So many colors competing with each other... red, and red, and red,
    I rushed away and bought more bouquets, more flowers, more petals,
    The drops falling and completing the drawing as I stumbled,
    The wind strewing my freshly acquired treasures into my creation,
    I saw the drawing of love getting stronger, thicker, starting to move,
    To dance...
    As paleness was getting hold of my face, of my lips, of my chest...
    It was a masterpiece, a monument,
    The sun gliding into it as into a newly found horizon,
    Birds nesting around it as into a rhymes laden poem,
    Waves crushing against it as into an unborn spring day,
    I gloated while I slid to the ground,
    The last touches to my work of art
    My last drops splashing mutely into their brothers...
    While my eyes closed and I couldnít see it, as it came to life
    I died...

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Dreaming Of...

    I moved my fingertips along your bare, bony spine,
    Slowly, softly, slowly,
    Your skin the smoothness of silk strewn with coarse grains of salt,
    Responding to the urge, skinning my fingertips,
    Your eyelids closed,
    Your eyes fluttering underneath
    Dreaming of smooth skin strewn coarse grains of salt
    Prey to demanding fingertips...

    I took you in my arms, one sweeping move,
    Softly, carefully, softly,
    You weighed less than an armful of dry leaves on a dry autumn day,
    No rustle, barely the breeze of your breath,
    Your eyelids closed,
    Your eyes fluttering underneath
    Dreaming of dry autumn leaves on a dry autumn day
    Gently swaying in the wind...

    I rolled your body in a huge, thick towel,
    Carefully, painstakingly, carefully,
    The grace of your shapes lost in the imprisoning folds clinging to every round corner,
    Your fingers searching for the anchor of my hand,
    Your eyelids closed,
    Your eyes fluttering underneath
    Dreaming of the soft prison of my hand
    Acting anchor to the roundness of your shapes...

    I painted your toenail pink, one toenail,
    Painstakingly, slowly, painstakingly,
    Feeling like Michelangelo putting the last touches to the creation scene
    On the ceiling of the Cappella Sistina, making sure it was perfect, absolute,
    Your eyelids closed,
    Your eyes fluttering underneath
    Dreaming of a bed of roses
    Under the heavenly Cappella Sistina skies...

    Does a masterpiece dream?

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    Beauty, beauty, beauty wild...
              Book a thousand pages deep
              Shed your letters down a heap
              Like a virgin white of body
              From a past all crude and shoddy
              Shamelessly your thousand pages
              Open to my rhyming rages
              Your lost secrets let me fire
              With a spark of burning lyre
              Your tomorrowsí chaptersí story
              Let me fill with dreamersí glory
              Your desiresí hidden thunder
              Let me touch then let me plunder
              And before the day has passed
              Iíll rewrite this chapter... last...
    Beauty, beauty, beauty wild
    Be my love then be my child...

    Tender, tender, tender art...
              Sky of endless silken thread
              Shed your stars like molten lead
              Like a virginís naked offer
              Lost in depths of rotten coffer
              Hungrily your endless haven
              With my passion make be graven
              Your horizons let me kindle
              Off his rights the sun to swindle
              Your abysmal purgatory
              Let me turn a dazzling quarry
              Your desires fierce and savage
              Let me rape then let me ravage
              And before the night is done
              Iíll remaster skies... and sun...
    Tender, tender, tender art...
    Be my love then rive my heart...

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    Like the aftermath of a shot in the desert.
    This huge, awesome noise you just lived through
    Reverberating with thousand echoes inside your skull
    Like in a huge empty cave,
    This magnificent rumble riding the powers of creation
    And challenging gods in all its insignificant puniness
    With its terrifying zest for life...
    Then quiet.
    Absolute quiet.

    And one looks down at oneís bleeding belly,
    The bullet passed right through,
    Playing god angers gods
    And fire passes right through, cutting, smashing,
    And all that is left is agony
    Dressed in terrible immortality...

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    I know the feeling,
    I recognize its shape, its vigor,
    I donít recognize its duration.

    Is time the healer?
    I know death is master healer, is time deathís best apprentice?

    Words are obsolete,
    Words are no healer,
    Words can paint masterpieces for the unseeing eyes of blind people,
    Create illusionary worlds for the smiling eyes of dreamers,
    Plant seeds of hope inside desperationís desert...
    Words are no healer.

    Music is art,
    Music is no healer,
    Music is the canvas to bodies moving in sensual abandon,
    The universal language to ears of alien birthright and creed,
    A harmony between beating clocks and beating hearts,
    Music is no healer.

    Trust is passion,
    Trust is no healer,
    Trust is blindness born out of desire and need,
    Son to king heart and daughter to queen love
    Smashing its crystal crown against the steel gates of raging reality,
    Trust is no healer.

    I know the feeling,
    I recognize its shape, its vigor,
    I donít recognize its duration.

    I need the words to paint my eyes,
    Illusions be my dreamís disguise,
    Inside my desert seeding hope
    As bleeding senses blindly grope...

    I need the musicís canvas bed,
    While ears to ears forever wed,
    And beating clock joins beating heart
    As bleeding senses blend with art...

    I need the trust, desireís child,
    A burning love, a heart beguiled,
    A crystal crown to dare the steel
    As bleeding senses healing will...

    The pain. If words, if music, trust
    May heal the pain to fading dust...
    And if thereís none... there still be time...
    Or last... the master... deathís sweet chime.

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Let There Be Light...

    Let there be light!... his whisper thundered,
    And darkness bear yet unborn sin,
    Let there be life!... his thunder whispered,
    And death be lifeís eternal twin.

    Let there be light!... her whisper caressed,
    And darkness bear my unborn dream,
    Let there be life!... her caress whispered,
    And death fear lifeís unyielding stream.

    Let there be man!... his whisper thundered,
    With blood, with sweat his bread to eat,
    Let there be woman!... his thunder whispered,
    With sweat, with pain each day to meet.

    Let there be man!... her whisper caressed,
    His blood Iíll care, his sweat Iíll dry,
    Let there be woman!... her caress whispered,
    To share his toils till I shall die.

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The Things I Miss, The Things I Miss...

    The little things, like brushing teeth,
    Like slapping sounds of running feet
    Across the barren, cold tiles floor
    Dispensing kisses at the door...

    The little things, like catching flu,
    Like drying mud on one left shoe
    After a stroll across the park
    And rushing home before the dark...

    The tiger wild clawing me wreck
    Then kitty soft licking my neck,
    The elbow stuck into my side
    And gentle snore turning to tide...

    The morning feast of three fried eggs,
    The female rite of shaving legs,
    The shiny eyes when movies old
    Squeeze tight a heart of liquid gold...

    The intimate and gentle pat
    As rounded curves against me splat,
    The ď...bye, Iím lateĒ, the hasty kiss,
    The things I miss, the things I miss...

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    Sitting in front of an empty sheet of paper,
    Head leaning on left handís heel,
    Eyes closed,
    Following the scenery rushing madly in front of my mind
    In a vain effort to decipher the coded message written in there,
    Message? White noise? Forgotten desires?...
    Soft music in the background,
    An oldieís station,
    Once I was dancing to these sounds
    Changing partners, changing allegiances,
    Depth of reason masked by shallowness of youthful craves
    Mistakenly understood as flaring romance,
    I see shapes in the message,
    Changing faces, sharp movements, laughter,
    Do I recognize you, others,
    I cringe in fear, are these realityís sons or tired imaginationís daughters,
    Passionate laughter or only a TV blindly blaring in the background
    Mocking my humanity with its electronic superiority,
    Is there dance in the message?
    A dogís ear tickles my big toe,
    Asleep close to my leg, running in his sleep, chasing the bad guys
    Or chasing the good bitches,
    I caress his wet nose absent mindedly,
    I see caresses in the message,
    Hands following shapes, shapes giving in to hands,
    Shapes merging with shapes merging with shapes merging with shapes,
    Do I recognize you, others,
    Do I see past events through a malevolent warp in time
    Or formless smears on the fabric of my mind
    Painted there by my malign heart,
    Is there caress in the message?
    A chocolate tablet melts in my mouth
    Oozing its brown velvet like the kiss of a black beautiful maiden
    Around my tongue, dripping from the corner of my mouth
    Staining indecently the white immaculate paper with an irregular splash shape,
    A mixture of forgotten and unknown kiss tastes invade my senses
    Wrecking havoc in the lands of my serenity
    And playing shadows of touching mouths
    On the fluttering screens of my eyelids,
    Shadows, whose shadows,
    Do I recognize you, others,
    Are these shadows or falling leaves from last yearís autumn
    Finally finding their way home to earth,
    Is there kiss in the message?

    Sitting in front of a dark sheet of paper,
    Black with words upon words upon words,
    Forehead in the nook of my bent arm,
    Eyes closed,
    Deciphering the message as the scenery never rests,
    Finding the answers, one answer,
    All the answers...
    Dance, there is only dance in the message,
    The dance I never had while rolling and reeling and holding,
    While listening to the smooth sounds oiling my inner workings
    And thinking I was...
    Caress, there is only caress in the message,
    The caress I never had while hands were touching,
    While bodies quashed their passions in a sea of quiet sweat
    And thinking I was...
    Kiss, there is only kiss in the message,
    The kiss I never had while lips pressed to lips,
    While looking for the softness of the abandon in the reality of the knowledge
    And thinking I was...
    Dance, much dance, and tender caresses, and burning kisses
    Swooping down on my mind like a falconís sharp descent
    And forcing me to open my eyes, to see the message,
    To absorb its sudden crystal clear meaning cutting sharply through my brain
    And impaling my senses on the sharp end of final realization -
    There is love there, senseless, meaningless, bottomless love,
    In her dance,
    In her caress,
    In the scorching wildness of her killing kiss,
    In the cipher of her message...

    She smiles...
    About time you understand, she says,
    And she smiles...

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Till We Meet Again...

    Your toe in my mouth,
    My north to your south,
    The bed sheet in tatters a world war away,
    I begged you to come, you prayed me to stay,
    As through tears, and through blood, and blinding hot pain
    We clash, then again...
    Then again...
    Then again...

    Your nail in my chest,
    My mouth to your breast,
    The silk torn to ribbons three eons ago,
    I knew I should stay, you knew I should go,
    As mindless of guilt, and of shame, and of pride
    We madly collide...
    Then collide...
    Then collide...

    Your hand in my fist,
    My mind clears the beast,
    The bones smashed to slivers for evers to come,
    From madness to reason two bodies succumb,
    As ravenous hunger cleaves slices of heart
    We hush and we part...
    Then we part...
    Then we part...


    As night through the shadows drags slices of time,
    Hind eyelids... ripe fires sweet memories mime,
    Hot smoldering visions count heartbeats aloud,
    Wild raving desires wait curled in the shroud,
    Misleading the quiet, the storm building up
    The last drop of passion is flooding the cup...
    Itís time... yes, again, heavenís hell we descend.
    We clash. We collide. And we burn, till no end.

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    Fierce, like a wet winged butterfly fighting its way out of the shell,
    Tearing at the smothering fabric,
    Curled antennae tasting the first touches of freedom,
    Miniature claws shedding soiled remnants
    Eternally forgotten under the devastating dazzle
    Of its newly born spread wings...

    Ferocious, like a week-old puppy opening bleary eyes,
    Stumbling on disoriented legs while discovering a proud tail end
    And with a growl wisely disguised into a squeal
    Chasing it into oblivion... till tired,
    It curls around momís heavy tits and with needle sharp teeth
    Squirts sweet warm milk into a hungry miniature belly...

    Gentle, like the bubbling music of a volcanoís crater,
    Melted metal pouring along wavering serpentines down valleys
    Lost in soft morning mist strewn with beautiful glinting sparks,
    Its murmur blending with the symphony of crackling wood
    Alive with red flame running through thick branches
    And singing a hymn to thunder and ashes and raining rocks...

    Tender, like a tigress licking her cubsí eyes,
    Stripes of yellow and black elegantly dressing her superb body,
    Sabre sharp fangs catching the fragile living bundle of fur with watchmakerís precision
    And letting it down to crawl unmolested between protective sleeping claws
    Deeply sunk in their muscled retreat
    Dreaming restlessly about sudden, fulgurating, irreversible death...


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    For a glimpse
    Of those hungry eyes
    Veiled with the fragile curtain
    Of thin silver pain
    Mixed with pulsating golden lust...

    For a sound
    From those hungry lips
    Mute under the impenetrable barrier
    Of burly oppressing ache
    Entwined with steely unbreakable desire chains...

    For a touch
    By that hungry body
    Guarded with the fierce courage
    Of past fading needs
    At war with devastatingly consuming passion...

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Moments After...

    When your head crushes the pillow
    Leaving smears of lipstick pink
    And the bluebell hidden iris
    Under eyelid seems to wink,
    When your fist crumples the bed sheet
    Tearing clumps of linen white
    And the sharp ivory necklace
    Through your lips smiles blinding bright,
    When your breast breaks through the fabric
    Proudly stabbing nipple red
    And the paleness of your belly
    Autumn whispers seems to shed,

    When you sleep, your sweet abandon
    To the gods of love undone
    And your sighs my heart to ribbons
    Cut and strew under the sun...

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Desert Legend...

    She opened her palm,
    There was a pearl there,
    Pink, with stains of white,
    Almost perfectly round.
    Did it grow there?

    Did it grow there? I asked her.
    Yes, you can have it, she said.
    How much? I asked.
    One silver dollar, she said.

    I have only one gold dollar,
    I will give you one gold dollar for your pearl.
    No, itís one silver dollar,
    You can have it for one silver dollar, she said.
    There were tears in her eyes.

    I started searching my pockets,
    Opened the wooden trunk fastened to my saddle,
    There were only gold nuggets there,
    Also a few blue rough sapphires.
    I will give you one gold dollar,
    One gold nugget,
    And my biggest sapphire.
    No, itís one silver dollar,
    You can have it for one silver dollar, she said.
    One tear left a shiny trace underneath her right eye,
    And yellow dust stuck to it instantly.

    She lifted her left foot,
    There was a gem studded horseshoe on it,
    Blues, and whites, and greens,
    Blinding me in their reflections of the noon sun.
    Did it grow there?

    Did it grow there? I asked her.
    Yes, you can have it, she said.
    How much? I asked.
    One silver dollar, she said.

    I have only one gold dollar,
    I will give you one gold dollar for your horseshoe.
    No, itís one silver dollar,
    You can have it for one silver dollar, she said.
    A second tear followed the trace of the first,
    Wiping away the yellow dust for a few moments.

    Listen girl, I will give you my one gold dollar,
    All my sapphires,
    And half of my gold nuggets
    For your pearl and your horseshoe.
    No, itís one silver dollar,
    You can have them for one silver dollar, she said.
    A tear from her left eye ran down her cheek,
    Joining its lost siblings on the dusty ground.

    She opened her shirt,
    Small breasts defying my regard,
    Two dark red ruby tips smothering my breath
    With their hellish fire.
    Did they grow there?

    Did they grow there? I asked her.
    Yes, you can have them, she said.
    How much? I asked.
    One silver dollar, she said.

    I spilled my wooden trunk
    Gold nuggets and sapphires rolling around her bare feet,
    Then unfastened my second wooden trunk from the saddle,
    Opened it and spilled all of my emeralds on top,
    Richness beyond imagination up to her knees,
    And then flipped my gold dollar on top of the mound.
    All of my nuggets, and sapphires, and emeralds,
    And one gold dollar
    For your rubies.
    She smiled,
    Crystal tears followed by golden tears followed by blue tears
    As she closed her shirt and turned to go.

    Wait! I shouted, and my fingers locked around her shoulder,
    For a few moments afraid that the slender bones would crush under the grip.
    Wait, this is the middle of the desert, soon there will be night.
    Where are you going to?
    You didnít ask where I am coming from when you met me.
    I didnít care then.
    And now you care because of my pearl, and gems horseshoe, and rubies?
    I care because of your crystal tears, and your golden tears, and your blue tears.
    I will stay, because you donít have a silver dollar.

    I made a small fire. Who are you? I asked.
    I will not tell you, you will not believe me, she said.
    I didnít ask you where you come from, I said.
    You didnít care, she said.
    I was afraid, I said.
    I come from fairy tales, she said.
    I know, I said.
    Do you believe in fairy tales? she asked.
    I didnít, I answered.

    She went to my horse and hugged its neck.
    Then she lay on a rock bathing in starlight showers.
    She talked to the full moon.

    I am a princess. I was a princess.
    In fairy tales I could have been a princess.

    My father the mightiest pearl king in all the seas,
    Depths riches beyond imagination,
    A kingdom as wide as the widest sea, as wild as the wildest sea forest,
    I was the daughter, the princess,
    The prettiest pearl in the prettiest shell that anyone has ever seen,
    Kings knocking at our palaceís gate for my hand,
    Princes fighting sea monsters for my gratitude,
    Human hunters desperately chasing me with dented steel knives...

    My father the wildest unicorn king beyond the clouds,
    Sky riches beyond imagination,
    A kingdom as wide as the widest horizon, as wild as the wildest hurricane,
    I was the daughter, the princess,
    The prettiest mane on the fastest hoof that anyone has ever set eye on,
    Kings knocking at our palaceís gate for my hand,
    Princes fighting sky monsters for my gratitude,
    Human hunters desperately chasing me with fire driven arrows...

    My father the most awesome elf king down depths of dreams realms,
    Magic riches beyond imagination,
    A kingdom as wide as the widest of visions, as wild as the wildest of legends,
    I was the daughter, the princess,
    The prettiest fay with the clearest laughter that anyone has ever dreamt of,
    Kings knocking at our palaceís gate for my hand,
    Princes fighting fantasy monsters for my gratitude,
    Human hunters desperately chasing me with rhymed magic spells...

    I am a princess. I was a princess.
    In fairy tales I could have been a princess.

    I didnít want to be a princess.
    I didnít want to be a pearl princess, a unicorn princess, an elf princess.
    I wanted to be a princess.
    I wanted to be human.
    I wanted to be a human princess.
    Like in the legends I sucked in with salty sea water, with motherís sweet milk,
    To be able to breathe in the flowers carpeted valleys down earthís rugged mountains,
    To run across the flowers carpeted valleys along earthís wild rivers,
    To make love on the flowers carpeted valleys across earthís unending plains...

    I bet my raceís inheritance for my human dream,
    Looking for love,
    Finding greed.
    Prey to my curse.


    I woke up with a start.
    She sat cross legged,
    My gun in her lap,
    My gun belt by her side,
    She was taking a bullet in her palm, next to the pearl,
    Closing it to a fist,
    Opening it and dropping a pearl to the ground,
    Taking another bullet,
    Closing her fist around it,
    Dropping an emerald to the ground.
    Is this your curse? I asked.
    Yes, she answered.
    Picked up a fallen pearl,
    Closed her fist around it
    And thin dust sipped through her fingers carried away by the wind.

    Tell me, I begged of her.
    Tell you what? she whispered.
    Tell me, I begged of her.

    I bet my kingdoms for human shape, she whispered.
    Which kingdoms? I begged to know.
    All of them, she whispered.

    Tell me when, I begged of her.
    By todayís sunset, she whispered,
    By todayís sunset wherever it may find me,
    As the last ray of eveningís sun quits my body
    I die,
    My kingdoms die,
    The fairy tale dies.

    For love? I asked,
    You bet your kingdoms hoping to find love in human shape?
    For love, she answered,
    I bet my kingdoms knowing to find love in human shape.
    The silver dollar? I asked,
    What about the silver dollar?
    My fathers blessed me with the knowledge, she answered,
    They could not void the bet,
    They blessed me with the knowledge when I win the bet,
    Knowledge when I find love,
    When I find the one who will offer me only one silver dollar for my riches...
    I thought it was you,
    I had just one more day,
    But you offered me one gold dollar.

    Wait a moment, I shouted,
    This is insane, it does not make sense,
    To offer you one silver dollar this is greed,
    To offer you one gold dollar this is fair.
    Please do not be angry with me, she said,
    This is a fairy tale and in fairy tales there is no sense,
    There is a curse and there is a blessing,
    The blessing is supposed to be stronger than the curse,
    Guess I prove that fairy tales can have a sad ending?

    I closed my eyes,
    The sun was burning hot,
    Wake up, I told myself, wake up,
    The sun has beaten you out of your senses,
    This is a hallucination,
    Wake up, open your eyes.
    I opened my eyes,
    She was still there, turning bullets into pearls
    Then pearls into dust,
    Bullets into emeralds
    Then emeralds into dust,
    Bullets into sapphires,
    Sapphires into dust...
    I woke up as she was shaking my shoulder,
    I must have fallen into an exhaustion sleep.

    You must go, she said.
    Why? I asked.
    In one hour the sun sets, she said.
    I donít want to leave you alone, I said.
    I donít want you to see me die, she said.

    She opened her palm,
    There was a pebble there,
    Grey, stained,
    Almost perfectly round.
    Did it grow there?

    Did it grow there? I asked her.
    No, you cannot have it, she said.
    How much? I asked.
    It is too late, she said.

    I have only one gold dollar,
    I will give you one gold dollar for your pebble.
    No, it is too late,
    You cannot have it even for one silver dollar, she said.
    There were tears in her eyes and the setting sun sparkled in them.

    She lifted her left foot,
    There were bloodied stones encrusted in it,
    Grey, brown, yellow,
    Hardly visible in the setting sun.
    Did they grow there?

    Did they grow there? I asked her.
    No, you cannot have them, she said.
    How much? I asked.
    It is too late, she said.

    I will give you one gold dollar,
    One gold nugget,
    And my biggest sapphire.
    No, it is too late,
    You cannot have them even for one silver dollar, she said.
    One tear left a shiny trace underneath her right eye,
    And the setting sun followed hungrily the falling trail.

    She opened her shirt,
    Small breasts defying my regard,
    Two red flesh an blood tips smothering my breath
    With a lost promise.
    Did they grow there?

    Did they grow there? I asked her.
    No, you cannot have them, she said.
    How much? I asked.
    It is too late, she said.

    I spilled my wooden trunk
    Gold nuggets and sapphires rolling around her bare feet,
    Then unfastened my second wooden trunk from the saddle,
    Opened it and spilled all of my emeralds on top,
    Richness beyond imagination up to her knees,
    And then flipped my gold dollar on top of the mound.
    All of my nuggets, and sapphires, and emeralds,
    And one gold dollar
    For your life.
    She smiled,
    The setting sun burning a trail of fire on her cheeks
    Mixing with the crystal tears followed by the golden tears followed by the blue tears
    As she closed her shirt and turned to go.

    The lower edge of the sun touched the horizon.

    Wait! I shouted, and my fingers locked around her shoulder,
    For a few moments afraid that the slender bones will crush under the grip.
    Where are you going to?
    You didnít ask where I am coming from when you met me.
    I didnít care then.
    And now you care because of my pain?
    I care because of my life.
    I will go, because you donít have a silver dollar.

    I picked up the treasures strewn around her feet,
    Poured them all in the two wooden trunks,
    Closed the lids and pulled them to the edge of the black bubbling stain in the desert.
    Then with one final effort shoved them one after the other in
    Watching them disappear to their deep black death.
    Now I donít have a silver dollar.
    Now I have nothing. Stay.

    Half of the sun has given in to the sand.
    Half of the sun was burning me through her eyes,
    The deep lakes unable to extinguish the damning fire.

    Where were you? she asked.
    Where was I when? I asked.

    Where were you when there was time? she asked.
    Where were you when there was time? I asked.

    She turned to go.
    Wait! I shouted. Take my horse.
    If I take your horse you die, she said.
    If you donít take my horse I see you die, I said.
    You give your life for my death, she said.
    I give my life, I said.

    I picked her up and sat her in the saddle.
    She was as light as the wind.
    You are as light as the wind.
    You are as late as a blessing.

    They started departing into the sunset.

    Wait! I whispered.
    She turned around.
    I raised my hand.
    Between thumb and forefinger,
    Scrapped from some deep fold in my riding trousersí pocket,
    Unknown to me and unknown to the world,
    There was one silver dollar.

    I closed my eyes.
    I swear I could feel the clear heavens raining pearls on my cheeks,
    Flowers growing in the scarred ground around my feet,
    And the wild neighing of horses in the skies...

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    He -
    I taught you loveís soft magic way,
    Trace fires down heartís bubbling clay,
    In thunder hear wild horsesí neigh,
              - you taught me pain.

    I taught you dreamís forbidden bay,
    December trade with smiling May,
    In passionís claws be willing prey,
              - you taught me pain.

    She -
    Your love I made my only reign,
    Wild horses roam my heartís domain,
    Your pain Iíll own, and you retain
              - my yearsí bouquet.

    Your blazing dreams my nights have slain,
    In passionís May I smile insane,
    Give me your pain, and hereís again
              - my yearsí bouquet.

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The Likes Of...

    Not the big ones,
    Donít want to invoke the sun.
    The sun, the moon, the stars,
    Thunder and lightning,
    Roaring seas and soaring dragons...
    Not this time.

    I want to call upon the small, the daily.
    Like the smell of freshly baked bread,
    Gently sifting into the nostrils of a starved man
    Right before he sinks his teeth in for a first bite.
    Like the wagging tail of a month old puppy,
    Proudly regarding his first exploit
    After peeing on the thick Persian rug.
    Like the blushing teenage girl with the red ribbon in her hair,
    Kissed for the first time
    And rushing home to tell mom about that disgusting boy who dared.
    Like the warm embrace of his six month pregnant wife,
    Smilingly greeting the dirty miner on the house threshold
    Then guiding his prickly face and coal black hands to touch her belly.
    Like the snowdropís first daring attempt at facing the winterís cold,
    Shaking courageously the hanging icicles from its petals
    And opening to the world its fragile perfumed heart.

    Like you.
    The likes of you.

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Words, Wounds...

    guised in dress of burning word
    lies in wait a hungry sword
    letters forged to razor edge
    chained in cryptic velvet pledge
    watching whisperís icy grain
    shakes the mists my waking brain
    slowly fingers curl to fist
    from its sheath the steely beast
    snatching high above my head
    great the rage and none your dread
    as you paint a humming tune
    scenting seasons set in june
    and your fingers satin tear
    and your chest to kisses bare
    and your skin to touching crave
    when in sudden passionís rave
    flashes weaponís mighty sweep
    fingers five it plunges deep
    in a breast so soft and frail
    slicing heartís forgotten trail
    cobalt eyes melt down to ice
    red and pain with darkness splice
    and you gently float to ground
    bleeding love with not a sound...

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    If I burn, wish rotten hell
    That will follow that last knell,
    To be strewn with autumn leaves,
    As my life through fingers sieves
              - soak that smell...

    If I soar, wish heavenís lane
    Cutting through my humanís pain,
    To bear clouds through naked trees
    As my breath turns dying breeze
              - drink that rain...

    If I live, wish lifeís rude glove
    Spares my guileless fragile dove,
    ĎCause my way to heaven, hell,
    She has blessed with autumnís spell
              - autumn love...

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    Let your breath engulf me,
    Be the dragon burning my skin with its scorching flame,
    Let me perish in the tormented inferno of ravaging love
    And never let go till I turn black dying crumbling ember...
    Let your word inebriate me,
    Be the poisoned wine pouring down my throat its cutting knives,
    Let me perish in the maddening spasms of devastating love
    And never let go till I lie crippled dying agonizing shape...
    Let your touch devour me,
    Be the savage claw ripping my spiritís sanctity with its obscene desires,
    Let me perish in the scathing terrors of raping love
    And never let go till I shed my bleeding dying withering flesh...

    Let me huddle in your lap,
    Let your breath, let your word, let your touch
    Soothe my agony
    As I smilingly slide into blessed nowhere...

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A Blanket...

    Around you,
    Layers upon layers upon layers of protection,
    Upon steel,
    Upon glass,
    Covering every inch of skin, every strand of hair,
    Every nail,
    Every healing scratch,
    Warmth, warm around you,
    Protecting against people,
    Against worldís pretences and natureís disasters and bodyís weaknesses,
    Opening at a whisper
    Closing at a thought,
    Unseen and mighty,
    Snug and happy and worriless in your cocoon...

    A blanket, around you,
    Burning in the fire while your cool breath mists the insides,
    Breaking under the load while your fragile frame dances inside,
    Crumbling under the pain while your smile paints visions inside,
    While the world falls to drifting pieces all around you...

    A blanket, around you,
    Absorbing your pains and hurting for you,
    Sorting your dreams and dreaming the nightmares for you,
    Swapping its happy moments with your moments of despair,
    Unknowing of the storm outside in your oasisí tranquility...

    A blanket.
    Wish I was a blanket around you,
    To die, so you live...

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The Edge...

    I found it,
    The edge of the world,
    The end of it,
    Maybe others found it too?
    They didnít return to tell the story,
    Fell in and still they fall,
    One way street,
    One way chasm,
    Away from all they knew,
    Away from all...

    I looked down.
    Why do I say down,
    Was it down there?
    Is after the edge a down
    Or is it a somewhere
    And more probably a nowhere?
    I looked downwhere,
    Bent as far as I dared and scrutinized it
    Is it there that I will find it?
    Is it there that I will find absence of pain,
    Is it there that I will find absolution of consuming desire,
    Absolution of love, lust, eluding passion,
    Fading dreams,
    Womanís touch,
    Or will I find an eternity,
    An eternity of pain, of consuming desire, of eluding passion?

    I stretched forward a hand,
    Then the other,
    Bent my knees,
    Closed my eyes as there was nothing to see,
    Held my breath as there was nothing,
    Blanked my mind to thoughts of eternity,
    Smiled at my childish conceit
    And arrogant decision to get my knowledge by irreversible trial
    And tensed my muscles for the leap into the bottomless pit...

    Said the voice, And the steel of a tender arm encompassed my chest and pulled me back...
    And the soft breeze of a forgotten fragrance drugged my senses...

    I woke up.

    Who are you? I asked on the purple shore of a waveless purple sea.
    Do I dream you?
    Why is everything purple? Where are the waves? Where are people?
    I am child... said the voice.
    I am daughter... said the voice.
    I am the daughter you never had,
    You never will,
    I own this dream, I own these shores and this sea,
    I painted them purple, I like purple, do you like purple?

    Where is the edge? I asked,
    I have dreams, I had enough dreams, I want to know,
    I found the edge,
    Where is the edge, I want knowledge,
    Do you have knowledge?
    I have purple.
    Purple is not knowledge, purple is color.
    Purple is love in my world,
    I have love,
    If love is what you want stay in my world,
    Let my purple touch tear away black pain from your heart
    And build purple memories inside your empty memory banks...

    My memory banks are not empty...
    You donít remember me...
    I never had you,
    I remember pain.
    Do you remember love?
    I am looking for knowledge.
    Do I look for love?
    I do not know,
    I do not exist, how would I know?
    Do you look for love?

    I do not see you, why do I not see you,
    How did you pull me back from the edge?

    I heard a crystalline thin laughter.
    I do not have any answer,
    You have them all,
    You have the knowledge.

    I heard a crystalline thin sob.
    Donít go to the edge,
    You know.

    I woke up.

    Who are you? I asked on the red banks of a still-standing red river.
    Do I dream you?
    Why is everything red? Why is the river not flowing? Where are people?
    Where is daughter?
    I am girl... said the voice
    I am friend... said the voice.
    I am the girl friend you never had,
    You never will,
    I own this dream, I own these banks and this river,
    I painted them red, I like red, do you like red?

    Where is daughter gone?
    There is no daughter, there is girl,
    There is friend,
    There is red, I like red, do you like red?

    I want knowledge.
    Friend? Red?
    You always liked red, so I like red,
    Red is love in my world,
    I have love,
    If love is what you want stay in my world,
    Let my red touch tear away purple pain from your heart
    And build red memories inside your purple memory banks...

    How do you know purple?
    You always wanted me your friend,
    I came.

    Too late.
    Yes, you came too late...
    No, you came too late...
    Yes, you came too late.
    Where were you?
    I waited for you so many years, so many places,
    Why were you born so far away,
    Why didnít you look for me so long ago,
    Why did you find me in the wrong place?

    I didnít find you.
    Why did you find me in the wrong place?
    I looked for you,
    In books, in movies, on the school benches,
    I wrote you poems,
    Did you receive my poems?
    Too late.
    I called for you, I cried for you.
    I heard. I am here.
    Too late.
    Maybe. Love is never late. Love is red.
    A rose is red.
    A rose is never late. A rose is a rose.
    Are you looking for my rose?

    Am I looking for your love?
    I do not know,
    I do not exist, how would I know?
    Do you look for my love?

    I see you through a thick milky mist, why do I not see you clearly,
    How did you pull me back from the edge?

    I heard a crystalline thin laughter,
    Maybe I heard it before?
    I donít remember...
    I do not have any answer,
    You have them all,
    You have the knowledge.

    I heard a crystalline thin sob,
    Maybe I heard it before?
    I donít remember...
    Donít go to the edge,
    You know.

    I woke up.

    Who are you? I asked on the pink dry foliage under a never falling pink rain.
    Do I dream you?
    Why is everything pink? Why is the rain not falling? Where are people?
    Where is daughter?
    Where is girl?
    I am woman... said the voice.
    I am wife... said the voice.
    I am the wife you never had,
    You never will,
    I own this dream, I own this dry foliage and this rain,
    I painted them pink, I like pink, do you like pink?

    I want knowledge.
    Where is daughter? Where is girl?
    Was I daughter? Was I girl? Did you love me?
    I love pink,
    Pink is love in my world
    If love is what you want stay in my world,
    Let my pink touch tear away red pain from your heart
    And build pink memories inside your red memory banks...

    How do you know red?
    You always wanted me your wife,
    I came.

    Too late.
    Still time.
    Too late.
    Still time,
    At the edge there is always still time,
    There is no time,
    There is endless time.

    Too late, too late, too late...
    You found me, didnít you?
    You were looking for me so you knew it was not too late,
    Now you found me, the clock starts ticking again.

    No, you found me.
    No, I found you.
    How did you find me?
    You called.
    Did I? I was gazing into the edge, I didnít call.
    You called me,
    I heard your voice,
    You asked my permission to call me and called me.

    I donít remember.
    Of course you donít remember,
    I started filling your memory with pink pictures,
    Pink smells, pink fingertip sensations,
    Pink tomorrows...

    I hate tomorrows, I want todayís.
    Tomorrow is today,
    Tomorrow is pink, is love.

    Why did you save me?
    I did not save you, I loved you.
    I loved you since you called me through your black,
    I loved you since you called me through your purple, then your red,
    I loved you since you painted my dream pink.

    You said you painted it pink.
    Yes, you painted it pink.
    Do I love you?
    I know,
    I exist, I know.
    Do you love me?

    I see you as clearly as bright sunshine,
    You blind me, you burn my eyes with beauty,
    How did you pull me back from the edge?
    Since when do I love you?

    I heard a crystalline thin laughter,
    I think I heard it before,
    Did I?
    You see? You have the answer. You own the answer.
    You have it. One.
    You have the knowledge.

    The answer is I love you?
    The answer is I love you.
    The knowledge is I love you?
    The knowledge is I love you.
    The knowledge is you love me?
    The knowledge is you love me.
    You know more than daughter, you know more than girl,
    Is it the world,
    Is the world pink?
    I am daughter, I am girl,
    I am wife,
    This is my world,
    Pink is love,
    I am pink.

    Where is my world,
    Where is the edge?
    I rolled a stone over it,
    I painted it pink,
    Pink is love,
    I am pink.

    Do I love you?
    More than pink.
    Do you love me?
    More than life.

    I listened carefully, stretching my senses to the extreme,
    Waiting for a crystalline thin sob.
    It never came.

    I never woke up.

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    I found them,
    Some small, some big,
    Some hidden under the folds of a garment,
    Was looking for them,
    Hoping to find them,
    I did...

    Some around the eyes,
    Around the corners of the mouth,
    Some on your hands...
    An imperfect tooth, another one,
    Slight traces of hair on your upper lip,
    A few grey hairs that escaped the powerful dye,
    A broken nail...

    Birth marks,
    Didnít know you had so many of them,
    You smiled shyly when I touched them
    Then allowed me to find some more
    Better hidden than the others...
    Some soft spots,
    Not all of you steel and muscles,
    You laughed teasingly when I patted one of the spots
    And punched me in the eye... only an excuse so you could kiss me,
    Then guided my hand back to the same spot so I could caress it...

    Your voice... no imperfections there.
    Closed my eyes and imagined a long tailed mermaid
    Sliding naked under the roar of the waves
    In company of dolphin brothers,
    A transparent winged fairy
    Pulling a multicolored brush
    From one end of the rainbow to the other,
    An aquarelle painting come to life
    Descending from its easel
    And spreading itself across the world...
    Closed my eyes
    Then opened them as fast as I could to chase away the visions,
    No mermaids, no fairies, no aquarelles, no perfection fair or fake,
    Donít want any, no, no perfection
    Except for the perfect imperfections
    Of the mouth owning the voice,
    Of the body owning the mouth,
    So human, so perfectly human,
    So unique,
    Do you know that imperfections are unique?
    So uniquely yours,
    So uniquely you...

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    My hand,
    Supposed to caress, to calm,
    Suddenly turning into a vise and closing on your wrist,
    You winced, reproach in your eyes, in your voice...
    Why? You asked, all I did was tell you I love you...

    Why? I asked opening my palm,
    The uncontrolled spasm over, the distress in your regard drilling my heart,
    The question in your voice soft, undemanding, just wondering,
    I jumped back, the one moment of misapprehension over,
    The blue stain on your wrist visible,
    Your eyes looking for a reason...
    Why? You asked, all I did was tell you I love you...

    I tried to take your hands in mine,
    To ask you to forgive, to forget, to erase,
    You kept looking at the blue stain, then looked at my face,
    Your hand rigid in mine,
    Waiting... for something?
    Wish I had the something you wished for -
    The yesterday, the what if not, the never happened...
    I did not have it, all I had was an unacceptable excuse,
    A request, a promise, a long wait...
    You smiled. Uncertain yet if you should, knowing you wanted to,
    My heart thumping.
    Then slowly your hand squeezed mine gently, warmly,
    I love you, you said, all you did was forget...

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    Lay your head on my knees,
    Let the whispering trees
    Lay a blanket of gold,
    Copper leaves days untold,
    Silver thread weaving in
    Fragile petals of sin,
    Spider-thin silver string
    Wedding dew drops of spring...

    Let your eyes claim the peace
    Of a dying stormís bliss,
    All of yesterdayís tears
    Diamond studs in your ears,
    Living necklaces rings
    Waving butterfliesí wings,
    In the depths of your eyes
    Smiles the sun as it dies...

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    I finally know it,
    Thought I knew it, arrogant naÔve me,
    Then in one single lucid moment I discovered its true taste
    As reality erased the smirk decorating my face
    Turning it into a pitiful grimace
    Squashing my complete body...
    Oh, terrifying as the blackest of nightmares
    Sinking tenderly its fierce grip into my mind
    And gently letting smooth poison soak into my thoughts
    Ripping apart each and every fibre of resistance...
    As my fingers deserted the warmth of your skinís fields,
    My teeth gave up their bloody quarry
    And my eyes chased vainly a disappearing shape melting into memory...
    As I sank to the cold floor shivering,
    Foam dripping from a numb mouth
    Trying to lock away tastes never known
    And rumbling earthquake tearing to pieces a crippled heart screaming for home...
    As I crouched cuddled in my arms
    Waiting for your drug to invade my senses once again
    And drag my bloodied remains along heavenís flowery paths
    Staining the pavement with my incoherent blessings...
    Fading away,
    As my fingers found once more the searing warmth of your skinís fields,
    My teeth cut deeply into the yielding flesh
    And my eyes gazed openly at a sunís shape burning its memory into their blindness...

    Gone like a summerís light breeze
    Giving in to the hurricanes of devastating happiness...

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    Let my fingersí insane raving
    Feed the lust your breasts are craving
    With my teeth traces of blood
    Round them paving...

    Let my bonesí steam-rolling rumble
    Turn your sighs to madnessí mumble
    With a gaping mouth your lungs
    Screaming crumble...

    Let my whispers be the quire
    Softly quenching out the fire
    As you smiling sink in sleepís
    Blissful mire...

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Moments Of Infinity...

    Did you see the ocean? she asked.
    Of course, I answered.
    So you are not interested in my lake, she smiled.
    But I am, I said.
    It is small, almost a pond... she looked up at me, inquiringly.
    Even if it is a muddy puddle, I answered and took one of her fingers in my mouth.
    Even if it is a small muddy puddle? her eyes shining.
    Even if it is a spit trace on the sand.

    We sat on the shore, leaning against the big wheel of her truck.
    She insisted to take her four wheeler, just in case we may have sunk in the sand.
    There is no sand here, I remarked, just to get her off my earlobe.
    There could have been, she laughed and kept chewing.
    I looked at the water expanse, anywhere between a lake and a pond and a spit trace,
    Half frozen, the other half too. I chuckled.
    You are making fun of my lake?
    I am making fun of your puddle.
    You insisted to come down here. Why? Told you there is nothing to see.
    Exactly the reason.
    She frowned, dissatisfied, and bit my nose.
    Then sat between my outstretched legs her back leaning against my chest,
    Her disarrayed hair all over my face. I kissed her on the top of her head.
    She took my hand and guided it underneath her shirt and underneath her bra.
    The hot flesh shivered at the touch of my cold fingers.
    Tell me or your hand is prisoner forever.
    Exactly the reason, I repeated myself.
    Because there is nothing to see. Except you.
    You insult my lake.
    I love you.
    Your hand is prisoner forever.
    Can you extend forever to at least a lifetime?
    She turned slowly to face me,
    Her feet around my middle above my thighs,
    And all the time ensuring she made her threat true.
    Can you extend a lifetime to at least a day?
    The plane took off.
    Tears of rage smothering the view
    As all the lakes looked like diminishing puddles
    Till the invading clouds erased them completely.
    I extended a lifetime to a day.
    I wished I could have done it the other way around.

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    I like saxophone, she said.
    I like also peanut butter fudge, and my truck, and Elvis...
    And I donít like spiders and I like squirrels.
    My TV broke today.
    Tomorrow I have to buy another pair of shoes.

    I had to stop the flood somehow, before it took off at another tangent.
    I kissed her.
    She opened big surprised eyes, closing them moments later to sounds of mmmm...
    What about me, I asked her once she gave me back my lower lip.
    You mean do I have to buy another pair of you? Giggle.
    I mean do you like me too?
    No. Serious.
    No? I repeated, a bit taken aback by the serious expression.
    Joke, right?
    No. Serious.
    But you like saxophone, and fudge, and Elvis...
    Yes, true. Not a sign of a giggle. Still serious. Drilling eyes, intense.
    But I donít like you.
    Oh, I get it, I laughed with sudden relief,
    You little weasel, you... got me there for a moment,
    You donít like me, you love me... is that the idea?
    No. Pouting lip, fierce regard, fingers locked on my shirtís lapels
    Almost tearing the tensing buttons off...
    I panicked. That serious regard, I almost cringed away from it...
    I felt like screaming... I opened my mouth...
    Donít... she said, leaving the tortured cloth to place a finger on my mouth.
    Donít... she said. I donít like you.
    No, I donít even love you.
    You, I am in love with...

    I closed my eyes. I knew I didnít know women.
    I knew she was not a woman.
    She was another species, not yet catalogued. Probably a unique specimen.
    Was I on the verge of a new scientific discovery?
    I opened them again, finding her eyes one inch away from my nose,
    Looking up at me with a crossed regard,
    Almost funny if it was not as ferocious as it was.
    I love you, I whispered, my hot breath almost scorching her eyelashes.
    I tried to approach her lips
    But found it impossible to move against that stiff finger stuck in my chest.
    Care to rephrase it? Demanding. Please? Begging.
    I was lost.
    I knew the paths of hell only too well,
    I mapped the paths of heaven with so much care, yet, I was lost.
    This was not hell, this was not heaven and not even earth.
    Where was I, inside a story maybe? Inside a dream?
    The cross eyed regard never leaving my eyes for a moment,
    Tears welling at the left eyeís corner
    Refusing to let gravitation take control of their destiny.
    I closed the gap to half an inch,
    Her eyes still following, not giving up for a moment.
    I am in love with you... I whispered, the message finally getting through to my brain.
    She allowed gravitation take over,
    The ragged track underneath her left eye glittering with invisible salt crystals,
    Her finger finally removed from my chest and the distance reduced to zero,
    Even to minus... I heard her squashed mouth giggle throatily.
    What now? I scolded.
    You are such a sissy... her voice bells rang.
    You mean all this was just a small act?
    I asked with my most self righteous indignant voice.
    She pushed my back against the wall and curled perfect puppy fashion in my lap,
    Her eyes closed.
    I was going to tear you apart, is what I mean... she whispered, and fell to sleep.

    I donít remember the rest of the night.
    There is not much to remember. Just flowing, never ending peace of mind.

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Not The Movies...

    I love the smell of your hair, I told her.
    Mmmmmm... was her only reaction.
    I like to touch your fingers, I told her.
    Mmmmmm... again.
    I wondered what could I say to make her open her eyes
    And get her off the mmmmmm mood?
    Not that I disliked it.
    I like Marilyn Monroe, I told her...
    Grrrrr... well, at least we were getting somewhere.
    ...But I love you.
    The menthe perfumed breath smothered my mouth
    As I was trying in vain to gain access to the normal stinking air.
    In vain.
    She refused to let me breathe anything but air coming straight from her lungs,
    Waiting for me to asphyxiate trying
    Yet not allowing it to happen,
    Those lips selectively mixing into my lungs part oxygen,
    Part perfumed exhaling breeze,
    Almost like in the movies,
    The beautiful girl mouth-to-mouthing the handsome guy,
    And finally marrying him.

    We knew it was not the movies.
    That kiss trying to absorb my life in exchange for hers,
    The fingers digging into my shoulders like hydraulic driven clams,
    The eyes shut tight cowering away from the emerging reality...
    The beautiful girl finally letting the handsome guy go away
    And trying vainly to mend a broken heart. Two broken hearts.
    I wondered... does reality have happy end scenarios at times?
    Is there a Hollywood like studio creating it
    And making it a happy end or a soggy hanky end
    According to some unknown directorís whim?
    Or is it the brutal reality of a statistical coincidence deciding on the heroesí fate?

    I felt her fingersí vise suddenly go limp,
    Her body still attached to mine by some unknown fibres...
    It took me several moments to realize that these were my fingers this time
    Digging so strongly into her back
    That she couldnít slide to the ground and lie there expecting me to go away.
    Was it what I should have done, letting my fingers go?
    How could I, I didnít control them anymore?

    I lied, I said, I donít like Marilyn Monroe.
    Mmmmmm... was the soft music answering me.
    I did not lie, I like the smell of your hair.
    Quiet. I listened intently. Quiet.
    I did not lie, I like to touch your fingers.
    Quiet. Did she hear me?
    I go. Do you hear me?
    Is it true, do you like the smell of my hair?
    Yes, I do like the smell of your hair.
    And do you really like to touch my fingers?
    Yes, I really like to touch your fingers.
    Do you like more things about me?
    Yes, I like more things about you.
    Tell me.
    There is no time.
    There is time to tell me there is no time.
    There is no time to tell you the truth.
    The truth? Do I know the truth?
    The truth.You know the truth.
    Is the truth good?
    No, the truth is true.
    Is the true truth good?

    My fingers finally dislodged from the deep wounds dug into her back.
    She did not slide to the ground. She looked straight into my eyes.
    She was patient. She waited for an answer.
    If I came back one year later she would still be there,
    Eyes searching the place where my eyes have been,
    Still waiting for the same answer.
    Yes, the truth is I like more things about you.
    Tell me.
    She smiled, the soft corners of the wide mouth rising to meet the eyesí corners.

    No, there is no time to tell you all.
    You told me.
    No, I wish to tell you.
    You will tell me. When you return.
    I will tell you. When I return.

    I will return.
    Is finally the good guy marrying the good girl?
    I hesitated, mathematical formulas clashing in my brain,
    Afraid of the answer, knowing the answer, afraid of the promise.
    The good guy already married the good girl.
    Really? When?
    When you closed your eyes. You were afraid there will not be a happy end.
    You did not look.
    She opened her eyes.
    Was there a happy end?
    Yes. There was. There is.
    I am happy. Now you can leave.
    You believe me?
    Of course I believe you. I am happy. So it is a happy end.

    She was right. Of course she was right.
    She always knew the way to be right.
    I was happy too. She said so.
    Happy people cry, donít they?
    We had our proof.
    Lifeís studios imitating Hollywood.
    The only problem was just a very minor one,
    It seemed our fingers refused to give in to the brainsí commands and separate,
    Funny things, fingers,
    Almost having a mind of their own...

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Time, Crawling Time...

    Once upon a time there were days.
    Only hours left now,
    Soon minutes,
    What comes after minutes, is there anything after minutes?
    Fantasy heroes, freezing time, building time machines,
    Changing time,
    Then the movie ends, the bookís last chapter is done
    And the hero vanishes.
    Short, glorious life, nothing beyond,
    Not even the time machine helps.
    Life stronger than a time machine,
    Time, unstoppable, not even for heroes.

    We huddle together.
    We are not heroes, we have just met,
    There were days, an infinite interval,
    It will not end, it will never end...
    Only hours left now.
    We still huddle, afraid that giving up the touch will hasten time,
    It will not,
    Time crawls forward,
    Not faster, not slower, indifferent.
    How do we measure time? No, not by clocks,
    Or sand glasses or sun rotations,
    How do we really measure time
    As we sit huddled together,
    Arms locked, fingers locked, bodies locked?
    We do not measure it,
    We only know when it ends,
    And this is the only measure that counts.
    When arms unlock, fingers unlock, bodies unlock,
    And the three classical dimensions take control and interpose space
    And we start measuring time by inches,
    By yards, by miles.
    By heartbeats.

    We donít count by tears, we donít want to count infinity.
    We count by smiles, we want to count by moments of infinite joy,
    We become heroes of our own fantasies,
    Changing time, freezing time until there are days again,
    Never ending days,
    Never ending heartbeats,
    Infinite happiness.

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Parting Lullaby...

    The box dragging its wheels slowly away, carrying inside
    Bleeding hands
    Nails biting deep into flesh unable to control the spasm,
    Bleeding eyes
    Blue oceans smashing away at shores disintegrating into whipping tears,
    A bleeding heart
    Hesitating between the painful thunder and the everlasting quiet...
    A man-made noisy box
    Carrying inside Godís bleeding creation.

    I kneeled, I screamed,
    Unable to hear my voice in a prayer I wanted to smash against skyís gates
    Ripping them off hinges
    With fingers curled into frozen hooks
    Driven by a maddening pain
    Roaring inside a hollow mind,
    I bent, I huddled,
    Head between knees
    Arms around legs squeezing with mindless power
    The skull screeching at the bone joints
    Happily awaiting that final all liberating crack
    That will send it into eternal numbness...

    The box lost beyond a turn of the road,
    That following emptiness,
    That terrible emerging realization of an end to a life chapter,
    A life chapter... there is no such thing... a life.
    I knew the skies should fall down and drag the world into nothingness
    The life into non existence
    All creation into dispersing dust,
    Did the skies fall down? They did,
    My world into nothingness,
    My life into non existence,
    My creation into dispersing dust...
    Back into the womb,
    Waiting, waiting, waiting for next dawn to come.

    Sleep, my baby, hush and sleep,
    Let the winterís gentle grip
    Snow your heart in frozen pleasure
    Way off bounds and out of measure,
    Let a summer oceans deep
    Be your treasure...

    Sleep, my baby, smile donít cry,
    Let the winterís lullaby
    Snow the patience in your worry
    Way beyond all tear and sorry,
    Let the summer soft and shy
    Be your glory...

    Sleep my baby, grey of cloud
    Let the winterís magic shroud
    Snow with starlightís blazing shower
    Way from bliss to raging power,
    Let all summers start with... proud...
    You, my flower...

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The Lover...

    I promised you a kingdom,
    And horses wild of mane,
    A jewels studded sceptre
    And nuggets covered plain,
    I promised you the mountains,
    A knee-deep roses lane,
    All yesterdayís tomorrows
    With sun drops light to stain,
    I promised you the magic
    Of word whispered in vain
    To turn to blooming garden
    Of desert blessed by rain...

    You said - donít want your kingdom,
    Your riches I donít claim,
    No wonders and no magic,
    No horses wild or tame,
    All that I need is freedom
    To lie down at your side
    Into the sun awaking
    Upon your horse to ride,
    All that I need - a promise
    When time will come to go
    My heartbeat and my summer
    Into your chest to sow...

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    Invading me,
    Flashes, sounds, lights,
    I am trying to blank out my mind,
    I hear fractured laughter intertwined with sighs,
    With words I try to remember,
    I hear silence,
    Twined fingers,
    Twined regards, lips...
    The wooden bench hard underneath me,
    My temporary prison,
    Soon changing to a metal one,
    Then plastic, leather,
    A flying box,
    And then invading space,
    Uncalled for, uninvited...

    You open your eyes
    Blaming the invading harsh light for the reflecting shine,
    Cool morning water on your face masks the flooding rivers
    Alongside irregular lipstick smears guided by an unsteady hand...
    I see you in the mirror,
    Do you see me?
    Guess you do, else why would you smile
    As you sift through your memoriesí hideout
    Picking up the selected few... all of them...
    Reliving those moments in time forever gone
    And ever present...

    I hear a voice,
    Disembodied, mechanical,
    Instructing me to do something
    Which I hear but donít,
    An immense urge to hold you, to hug you,
    So fortunate you are not here or you would suffer...
    You object,
    You protest, you would rather be here and suffer,
    You tell me...

    Raindrops crush regularly against the window,
    Competing between themselves, with me,
    I try to let them win,
    No one can beat me,
    No, not now, not today, not ever,
    Pouring rain... what a pale imitation to life,
    Such a desert compared to the floods drowning my heart...

    Noise, rising to deafening levels, invading every unguarded corner,
    I close my eyes,
    Grateful for the memories,
    For each lived and relived moment,
    For the rain,
    For the never setting sun,
    For the beautiful pain eroding my insides with velvet teeth,
    For the stolen moments from the godsí secret drawers,
    For the fire you kindly plucked from your heart and sowed into mine,
    Untamed, wild, incessantly burning,
    For my breath,
    For my life...

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Calling Names...

    I called you my wife,
    I called you my life,
    The blood dripping heart at the end of my knife,
    A garden in May
    With daffodils rife,
    A blue sunny day...

    I called you my eye,
    My heavenly sigh,
    A queen on a pedestal reaching the sky,
    An angel at dawn
    So humanly shy,
    An innocent fawn....

    You seemed not to see
    My faltering plea,
    Your mind in a world of your own roaming free,
    When... after a while
    You looked up at me
    And called me your smile...

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    First regard...
    Eyes searching for hidden beauty
    Hind evening shadows
    And lowered eyelids,
    Street lamp reflections dressing dark corners
    With glowing warmth
    While noisy headlights rush by
    Splashing flashes of stolen sun puddles
    Upon the mystery of an unseen smile...

    First touch...
    A fingertip reaching through the enveloping obscurity hesitatingly
    Towards the tingling flesh of a bare elbow
    Underneath a short sleeveís lace,
    Unaware of the advancing hand moving its way slowly
    Ignorant of the moment
    Finger touched finger
    Fiercely clasping the burning skin
    And closing with the brute force of a misadjusted vise...

    First kiss...
    Moist lips half opened
    Blindly probing their way towards the flowery fragrance
    Of opening furnace gates,
    Tasting the soft yielding flesh
    And softly sucking in the pounding hurricane
    As wild emotions take over
    And unknown of rage bites deep into demanding body hunger...

    Hey, kids,
    Thatís for grownups from this point onwards...

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Q & A...

    I pinched your nose,
    You said ďHello?...Ē
    I crushed your toes,
    You said ďWhy so?...Ē
    I asked ďDo you want me to take off your shoe?Ē
    ďThis rose...Ē
    And you winked... ď...it will know I love you.Ē

    I pecked your cheek,
    You said ďFor what?...Ē
    I tried to peek,
    You said ďYou rat!...Ē
    I begged ďMay I slowly uncover your charms?Ē
    ďYou freak...Ē
    And you laughed... ď...you will melt in my arms.Ē

    I hugged your hip,
    You said ďOh, my...Ē
    I bit your lip,
    You said ďThat, why?...Ē
    I pouted ďAllow me to visit your bed?Ē
    ďYou nip...Ē
    And you giggled... ď...and Iíll bite off your head.Ē

    I called you pest,
    You said ďWho, me?...Ē
    I touched your breast,
    You said ďOh, gee...Ē
    I stuttered ďDo you want all of mine, all my art?Ē
    ďYour chest?...Ē
    And you smiled... ď...and inside it your heart?...Ē

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The Last Day...

    The hardest moment. The last day.

    A week,
    Pulled out from a childís colored fairy tales book.
    Starting with a promise
    Carried over by the soft tunes pouring out the radioís oldies station
    As blinking lights and musical beeps accompany each of your moves.
    The rushing traffic carelessly avoiding our isolated island
    Following its mindless race to destinations unclear
    For reasons unknown,
    The muted purring sound of the iron monster underneath us
    Responding blindly with a growl to your graceful fingersí request
    Whenever asked for its well intentioned favors,
    The paralyzing tension in the air
    Melting into the forgotten memories sea
    As fingers reached out sliding behind backs
    Gripping each otherís body
    And bringing mouths within reach
    Of drinking each otherís soul till burning lungs ask for pity...
    A promise made,
    A heartbeat touched,
    A dream weaving itself into realityís fabric.

    A week painted over with the colors of a master craftsmanís hand
    As he sketched each day with different lines, different pens,
    Different flavors.
    So simple, so majestic, eternal.
    The forgotten lost trail where we found ourselves one,
    Forever first,
    The steaming breakfast we ate on each otherís knees,
    Gulping mouthfuls of sweet pancakes
    While drinking eyefuls of warm glances...
    The crammed corner of space in that hidden corner of world where
    Devoured by passion
    We poured into our bodies each otherís devastating fire...

    The last day.
    When hands refused to unclasp. Eyes refused to blink.
    Mouths refused to talk.
    Hearts... refused to silence unleashed thunder...
    The hardest moment.
    When you pulled away,
    Your car rolling slowly away yet refusing to part.
    When you stopped. Waiting to recover your sanity,
    To join again a world changed forever
    Yet waiting for your return.
    The long minutes seeing you lost in that big tame rumbling monster,
    Fighting desperately an impulse to rush by your side
    Pull you off that island of your world
    And carry you into mine.
    Knowing it cannot be done.
    Dreams come true. Fiction does not.
    Pain is real. In all worlds.

    The wheels finally rolling away.
    Carrying you back. Proud.
    A queen.

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My Angry Poetess...

    Be the queen who rules the beauty of my desertís howling lands,
    Over wide and shapely valleys flowing rich with finest sands,
    Keep in reign wild roving dune tribes wrestling windís unending quest,
    Paint the flickers on a nightís sky suckling ink from moonís white breast,
    As your molten anger glazes crystal flowers in the sand
    Let it roll, the pearl growing in your fisted bleeding hand,
    As a tear the depth of ocean cuts a trail across your cheek
    Let it shine, the blinding sunlight that your heart begins to leak,
    Clench your roots inside my boulders, sink them deep through gaping cracks,
    Follow down your savage yearning through forbidden fairy tracks,
    Sing each sunsetís slumber moments making way for starlightís show,
    Breathe each dawnís life early mornings while your petals wildly grow
    Desertís yellow staining slowly with a dazzling rainbowís tune,
    Be the queen, become the flower, be the dew drop in the dune,
    String your letters long your magic into words of velvet hue,
    Let your anger fade to mercy... then to warmth... to smiles... to you.

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    I built you a garden.

    Built... is it the right word?
    I seeded each single flower, each lone shrub,
    Cared for each leaf, cleaned every petal,
    Laid down each pebble along the narrow paths
    Losing their way deep inside mountains I groomed from stone,
    Cupped my hands under summerís rain to carry the water to build your sea,
    Borrowed dying spells from forgotten story tellers
    And planted sun rays stolen from an angry moon...

    Did I build it for you?
    You decided so and once inside
    You shed human clothing from fairy body
    And naked as eveningís sunset mists started running breathlessly
    Afraid to lose even one opening petalís color,
    Rolling pebbleís touch, falling sea dropís thunder...
    Scorching loverís caress...

    Your garden, your castle, your wedding vows.

    I kept adding, building, seeding,
    Bridges across rivers raging down green chasms,
    Smells roving round magnificent treetops,
    Sparks lighting unending nights round your hovering heels...
    Your frenzied flights longer, happier, your smiles deeper, wider.

    You were in love. With me.
    This was your garden. Only yours. Ours.

    One day I opened the gates.
    Revealed the secret of the gardenís beauty to the world
    And visitors started pouring in,
    Uninvited, noisy, mixing sighs of appreciation with the sound of popcorn...
    You looked at me, reproachfully,
    Your lips smiling, your eyes sad, your heart loving,
    I betrayed our lair, our home, our secret.
    You climbed the mountain top and went to sleep
    Hiding inside the tall undulating wheat field
    Telling me you still loved me,
    Telling me you needed more time.

    I took the heavy key in my hand,
    I climbed after you panting heavily like a tired horse at end of a workís day,
    Reached your lay and gasping out of breath offered you my rusty key,
    Offered you my deepest colored flower,
    Offered you my roundest pebble.
    Offered you my heart.

    You chose my heart.
    I still wonder... why?

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    I touched your scar,
    By mistake,
    I didnít know there was a raw wound underneath,
    Should have...
    You winced in pain,
    Almost cried,
    Looked at me with this mix of innocent blue,
    And accusing red,
    And loving pink...

    You changed, you said,
    You wouldnít have touched my scar earlier times ago,
    You forgot the wound underneath,
    Should not have...
    You were blinded by the bright vague dreams in a world alien to ours
    And you touched my wound,
    Underneath my scar.
    It hurts.

    You didnít cry, you didnít blame, you just said.
    I pulled my hand back, panicking,
    No, I didnít want to hurt you,
    I do not want to hurt you, I love you... I cried.
    Too late, you said.
    Do you really? you asked.
    You changed, you said,
    You wouldnít have touched my scar earlier times ago.
    No, I didnít change, I insisted, try me,
    Ask me how much I love you.

    How much do you love me? you asked.
    I am ready to offer you the stars,
    I am ready to offer you the moon,
    I said.
    You smiled.
    Words, you said, words are easy,
    You donít own the stars, you cannot give me the stars,
    You cannot give me the moon.
    And if you owned and if you gave
    It would mean you wanted to own me.

    I hurt.
    Try me again, I insisted.
    Ask me how much I love you.

    How much do you love me? you asked.
    I am ready to offer you my life,
    I am ready to offer you my death,
    I said.
    You smiled.
    Words, you said, words are easy,
    I own your life, I will not allow you to offer me your life,
    I will not allow you to offer me your death.
    And if you owned and if you gave
    It would mean you did not love me.

    I hurt.
    Try me again, I insisted a third time.
    Ask me how much I love you.

    How much do you love me? you asked.
    I am ready to offer you my art,
    I am ready to close the gate to the world and leave it open only for you,
    I said. And I did.
    You cried. And you smiled.
    Words, you said, the words of your art,
    You offered me your words, you offered me your soul,
    You gave me your creation.
    You love me,
    you said.
    Now I know.
    Now I know,
    you said.

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Death Of The Fairy...


    Oh, venerable fairy, in worlds of gloomy blue
    Your golden dust has settled enslaved by salty dew,
    Your wings so soft and lucid to storm have fallen prey,
    Your rosy cheeks have borrowed a tinge of sweet decay,

    You gasp, your laughter hollow and sadness laden high,
    The whiffs of heartless shadows afraid to touch your sigh,
    Your wand of purple magic has drifted to the ground,
    Your song of waking summer a winterís frozen sound.

    The life of sparkling splendor that once emblazed your eyes,
    The beads your hair adorning like endless fields of rice,
    The crystal studded nail tips that touched to bird its breath,
    So ever slow embracing the greyish hue of death.

    Gone is your prince at sunrise, so many moons ago,
    Your lips a bleeding promise have branded on his brow,
    ďLong as the fireís hurting, deep in this wound of thine
    The thunder will be sleeping, deep in this chest of mine,

    I havenít heard of healing to sickness such I own,
    In sunlightís laughing kingdom such potion lies unknown,
    A fairyís love for mortal... no, lover, please donít cry...
    The ageless law was broken, this fairy... she must die.Ē

    Upon his straining dragon the prince had gone astride,
    ďMy sweet immortal fairy, my dying fairy bride,
    If sunlightís mighty kingdom knows not to heal your life
    My quest Iíll take to darkness, with arm, with bow, with knife,

    Each night my dragonís fury will brand my wound anew,
    Each morn the sunrise glory will touch your lips to dew,
    Long as Iím gone the fire will hurt this wound of mine,
    Long as Iím gone the thunder will dwell this chest of thine,

    If healing gives, I find it. If naught through endless days,
    My way your bed of roses will reach through hell ablaze,
    Your side Iíll kneel and whisper my soul your weary eye,
    And when your thunder quiets, my dragon slay, then I.Ē

    The wind is howling chilly, long dregs of silken thin
    Bite with a sharp desire to cut the wasting skin,
    The sharp of thorn your body torments to creeping daze,
    The petals shed the flowers, the roses fade to haze.

    ďSoft muzzled baby dragons now cloudless skies defy,
    And buds to trunks have thickened and stones to mountains high,
    Thin trickles into rivers are foaming since of long,
    A nest of graceful swallows has grown to mighty throng,

    Oh, prince, oh moons so many youíve gone to end of world,
    My body once so tender mid autumn leaves lies curled,
    My naked breastís forgotten the caress of your hand,
    My tiring eyes are counting the grains of falling sand.

    Your ways have you forgotten to withered roses bed
    And other maidenís flowers now crown your handsome head?
    If this my fate be given... then let your wound go dry,
    My thunder let be roaring... just once... then let it die.Ē


    Through cracking, bush-thick timber, cuts path a scorching flame,
    Dried blood, like crimson daisies, cloths scales with none of shame,
    Six arrows deeply buried, five gashes raw and mean,
    Under the savaged muscle hang claws by thread of skin,

    Forever onward crawling with fearsome bellowed rage
    Its wings the shattered dredges of power stained with age,
    Through endless groaning forests, up mountains rough and tall,
    The pride of dragons carries its helpless human thrall,

    Forever onward crawling through marshes deadly deep
    Where wrath of wizardsí curses through bone and muscle rip,
    Long frozen icy rivers, across wild desertís storm,
    The beast its human cuddles in pocket soft and warm,

    Forever onward crawling, forever... one more day...
    One sunset, one more morning, one lonesome breath away...
    There... mid the drying meadow, beneath dry petals veil,
    Mid butterfliesí old velvet and perfumes long gone stale...

    The touch of death... your body has dressed in rainbow white
    Your naked beauty hiding in sleeping rays of light,
    No flutter round your eyelids, no breeze inside your chest,
    Your rigid fingers holding a stem against your breast.

    The beast its heavy body is dragging to your feet,
    Its howl of seeping anguish a mountainís gone to meet,
    A prince in broken armor slides down from depth of scale
    His eyes with fever burning, his face a moonlight pale.

    His paces slow, he reaches the crumbling roses bed,
    His face in mud three fingers lies buried, flowing red
    Of waking wounds admixes with crystal clear of tears,
    A path for dirty rivers across his wrinkles shears.

    ďOh, fairy, wait you promised as long the time will take,
    As long the fireís torture my branded brow will rake,
    As long as I might carry the potion to your ill
    Or else my kiss be dying before your heart does still.

    I kept my side of promise, return I had today,
    From wars, one hundred battles and endless fields of slay,
    I served in armies seven, black knights killed thousand score,
    Seed arrowheads my body like ships on stormy shore,

    A dream of hope my banner, a maze my searching path,
    Through dire lands of terror beneath a sky of wrath
    Reached heartless, wailing midland of nightís unbroken cold,
    For demonís word of wisdom paid half my kingdomís gold.

    His eyes a rippling season of vengeful gruesome fear
    Deep boring to my reason of wish to being here,
    My anger served his armies till day of pay has come
    From eye he shed a crystal the size of rotten plum,

    ęNot tear, but drop of poisonĽ, he said, ęjust one, none more,
    Die must your fairy, human, the day she turned your whore,
    Your anger curb, oh, lover, or wages go to dust,
    In vault of eggshell matter you guard this drop, you must.

    The wizardsí laws unwritten, the magic be obeyed,
    The hand that touched the fairy, your hand, the fairy slayed,
    When youth and fooldom married for grain of passionís lust
    Tribute your frailth is paying to passion turning dust,

    Your courage, human weakling, is great, your dragon fierce,
    Your will the flint of sunbeams that darknessí kingdom pierce,
    My words, carve deep your hearsight, fore crawling out of hell,
    One lonely time my telling, one lonely time your spell.

    If love you, fierce and mighty as handle you the sword,
    This riddle you be solving like nursemaid infantís word.
    Death is my trade. Youíre questing, by me, that she can live,
    One is the way, none other, for life... you death must give.Ľ

    In smoke and waging thunder the demonís lair has gone,
    Oh, loving fairy, wonder of graceful rising dawn,
    Your way I rode my dragon, my heart a tortureís nest
    As dreams of crimson laughter paint pains inside my chest,

    Sweet memories assailing my mind with smiling smells,
    The deepest cuts of iron fade fore your silver bells...
    Iíve neared... from daze Iíve wakened and down to earth Iíve climbed...
    Your promise, oh, youíve broken... your life with death had rhymed.

    Your bed... too late? my journey through endless draining haze
    Was punishment for daring a fairyís loving blaze?
    My quest through hellís long havens beneath the barking skies
    A wizardís sneer for fairies adorning human guise?

    Long was my road, your roses at touch turn desertís dust,
    Your smile forever buried beneath deathís ageless crust,
    Damn wizard, is my wages death side my loverís lay,
    The sharpth of ripping torture by her, my only pay?

    Your riddle dark and clueless... one answer... I will know,
    One test... if wrong the answer be cursed and cursed your law,
    If ever-darkness after will be my share of life
    My head be lain forever longside my fairy wife,

    And rotten twigs be laying upon the altarís bed,
    And crumbling leaves be crowning my fairy loverís head,
    And shrivelled petals blanket be strewn all round of us,
    And next soft breeze of summer... like gone... like never was...Ē

    He kneels. Left fisted fingers squirm slowly back to life,
    His mind had won his senses to calm the dreadful strife,
    Afraid... yet nestled warmly against the rugged skin
    His wages lies unblemished... a promise... eggshell thin...

    His frozen manner waking, his left hand rises high
    And crushes like a mallet against his armored thigh,
    His chest a pulsing thunder, his breath a tempest wild,
    His eyes a flame of anguish, a fearsome prince, a child.

    There, born upon the rubble, the palm upturned to light...
    His mind bestrides the shiver with loveís demented might
    As softly thumb and finger drag shards, then soft of breath
    The crystal drop of poison they touch... if life... if death...

    ďTimeís here. The riddleís meaning I learned from pain of heart,
    If death the price for living then death is fair a part,
    In demonís magic riddle my faith has come to rest,
    Forgive me, oh, sweet lover, if fail I will the test.Ē

    He stands, the shiny crystal upon your lips to lay,
    A tear of ageless beauty upon a marble tray,
    A trembling hand departing from plains of frozen skin,
    A drifting whisper rising, the morning breezeís twin...

    ďMy rest of life be counted, the moons Iíve left to stride,
    The half of it be parted and lay unto my bride,
    The score is not of meaning, be ten, be hundreds on,
    Together we be living, together we be gone...Ē

    Was this the right undoing, the riddleís hidden door,
    The cruel barter offered, through death your life to score?
    Against the dragonís belly he cuddles weary, lone,
    The monsterís tender breezing his sooth for tired bone.

    Short shadows getting longer and rolling west to east,
    A freezing night descending, its daily birthing feast,
    Soft flakes start floating slowly emblazed in blinding white,
    And cover you with sparkle, away from eye and sight.

    Beyond hidden horizons the splendor goes unfurled
    Unchallenged roves the quiet the dead and frozen world,
    The path before tomorrow runs long with turns unseen...
    A sheath loses its dagger... an eye broods dark and mean...


    A flutter?... soft?... past midnight?... the beast raises a brow,
    The prince pulls out an arrow and sets it to his bow...
    What is this vane illusion approaching way from... where?...
    A butterfly mid winter?... the dragon growls his scare,

    Mid orb of flying rainbows the vision wrong of time,
    Its wings as slow of movement as loverís yearning rhyme,
    Around the crouching figures for moments whirls and twirls,
    Cascade of magic colors like twinkling echoes swirls,

    As mindless as a night moth in search for guiding light
    Beyond the desert whiteness in eerie stumbling flight...
    As mindless?... or as guileless... when slowly petals turn
    And sink through melting snowflakes, a shiny, white walled urn.

    The prince anears, the thunder assails anew his chest,
    The blaze of raging colors invades the crystalís nest,
    The frozen teardrop softens in bleeding hues of red,
    Your lips inhale the crimson, your eyes the snowflakes shed,

    The pink crawls like a summer, through breasts, through fingersí ends,
    Its power ever rising, a shiver growls and blends,
    Young buds burn holes through ice pools, your bed turns rosesí sea,
    The breath... where is it fairy?... the breath to set you free...

    The stem bewteen your fingers turns supple, bends, then curls,
    The thick buds grow to petals, the knots grow into pearls,
    A thorn... its tip slides softly... the left breast nearing, sly,
    And suddenly it pierces... a drop of blood.... you sigh...


    Upon a fearsome dragon, upon a once a time,
    A prince carried a fairy, a bride, a dream sublime,
    And lip from lip was drinking the wine of evermore,
    And chest from chest was stealing the heartís eternal roar.

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No Memories Of You I Want...

    I donít want to remember you.
    I donít want memories.
    Memories of kisses softly stolen,
    Hugs forbidden,
    Lunatic escapades under green-maned long pathways...
    I donít want answers to questions of ď...do you remember?...Ē
    Nor questions to answers of ď...unforgettable...Ē...
    Unbearable the sweetness of past desires
    Crawling upon my mind with centipede articulations
    Each ending with a sharp poisonous claw,
    Unavailing the words of regret
    Tracing the fountains of unshed tears
    In a vain quest of recognition...

    I donít want to remember you.
    I donít want memories.
    I want nothing to remember.
    I want things to live.
    To hold your hand.
    To smell your hair. To kiss your bare shoulder.
    To see you at my side crying at a silly old black and white movie
    While I cry at seeing your pain,
    To feel you hugging the pillow in your dream thinking it is me,
    To watch your face behind a dinner candle...
    To hear you telling me all untold words of love...

    I donít want memories.
    I want life.

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Some Kind Of Magic...

    I sat beside you,
    Closed my eyes,
    Seeing you thirty years ago,
    Thirty... or so...
    Your skin the cool smoothness of a mountain lake on a starlit windless summer night,
    Your eyeís depth of blue, depth of warmth, depth...
    Your body, the endless vineyard of sweetest of loveís grapes,
    Your mouth... oh, your mouth...
    That ferocious trap cutting through my lips like sharpest of steel knives...

    I opened my eyes,
    Looked at you,
    Thirty years later... how did you do it?
    The smoothness of skin,
    The depth of eye,
    The taste of your body,
    The mouth... oh, the ferocity of that mouth...
    Is it some kind of magic?
    Is there?

    There certainly is.
    In my mind, in my eyes, in my heart.

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    Dancing with you,
    Feeling your skin sliding inside the smooth silken sheath enslaving it,
    One shoulder strap fallen baring the smoothness of a thin shoulder,
    My left handís fingers twined with your right handís
    Feeling the fingersí metal decorating ribbons click against each other
    While hanging loose at the side of your body
    Touching from time to time your thigh
    And feeling the rippling muscles along it,
    My right hand low on your back,
    Your low cut allowing my fingers the warm taste of skin stretched on your spine...
    And lower,
    Playfully pulling at the robeís fragile seam lines
    Almost tearing them apart,
    Your undulating waist realising in my mind something between hypnosis
    And sea sickness,
    Our knees, touching, separating, touching
    While our thighs push against each other
    Time fleetingly, time lengthwise,
    Time your hip squeezing teasingly into my body
    Lighting me, burning me...
    I feel your breasts pushing against my shirt, my chest,
    Your nipples hard against the fabric testing its strength
    And testing my mindís sanity,
    My head buried in the forest of your artistically disarrayed hair
    While my mouth bites softly your ear,
    Your mouth touches softly my cheek
    And the end of your tongue tastes my pungent after shave,
    Your right hand light behind my head
    Ruffling the short hair at the nape of my neck
    Sending tingling sensations through my body,
    Hurling killing emotions into my chest...
    The music soft,
    The light soft,
    In our ears, in our minds,

    The music never ending,
    In our hearts.
    May I dance you through life, my love?...

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    I tried to find you... something hurt...
    The tender raging craving... ďLove... Iím here, my heart please pardon...Ē
    You smiled. ďYou fool... I love you. Come...Ē
    And summer roams my garden...


    I tried to tell you something sweet,
    Rich smells of menthe burning your skin like velvetís longing fingers,
    You did not hear. The bitter taste
    Of menthe in verses lingers.

    I tried to write you something wild,
    Desireís fists ripping your breasts with countless tender roses,
    You did not see. The clawing touch
    Of thorns soft pain imposes.

    I tried to rhyme you something strange,
    Sun roving robins in your mind a forestís drunken clearing,
    You did not feel. The rasping sound
    Of morn the landscape shearing.


    I tried to leave you... something hurt...
    The bitter clawing rasping... ďLove... I leave, my heart please pardon...Ē
    You smiled. ďYou fool... I love you. Stay...Ē
    And summer roams my garden...

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    You pull tight the impermeable jacket around your middle,
    Uncaring about your hair,
    Your bare feet,
    Just the jacket around your middle,
    Protecting the life growing in there,
    And the hell with the rest, the rest wants to enjoy the rain...

    The soft drizzle,
    Mist size droplets
    Penetrating to the roots of your hair
    Accumulating to pearl size drops
    And then rolling down your neck, into your collar,
    Down along your spine,
    Their touch so much like the tips of his fingers...
    Shivers... your skin crawling with the pleasure of the memory...

    I love grey!... you feel like shouting
    And the imposing uniformly grey landscape above your head
    Welcomes your uplifted face
    Allowing the water laden branch above your head to give way under the weight,
    And suddenly granting freedom to a cascade of small rivulets
    To fly down to earth their short lived excitement,
    Passing by your eyes, your laughing open mouth, your stretched fingers...
    Ouch... you wince,
    A tiny foot kicking your belly from the inside
    Then going to sleep again...
    Pregnant at forty six,
    Youíre a fool your friends tell you,
    You are insane your grown up kids tell you
    Before leaving with their wives and your grandchildren back to their homes
    Leaving you in the big empty house with the cat and the fifty three year old parrot,
    Ha, you are older than me, you shouted cheerfully at the dumb bird
    Before venturing in the rain,
    And compensated the insult with a generous portion of sugared seeds,
    Its preferred treat....

    And you, lover, you interrogate your memory,
    What is your preferred treat except for my lips, and my breasts, and my?...
    You explode in laughter as you step in a puddle and mud squishes up your thighs.
    Who is the father? asked indignantly your daughter in law,
    If John was here... she adds,
    But John is not here and I am alive, you think
    And smile at her while she munches on your ninth peanut butter cookie,
    And you are a bit overweight my dear, you say
    Watching her two hundred twenty pounds frame getting up indignantly
    Taking your sonís hand in her left hand and a tenth cookie in her right and leaving.

    Quiet. So quiet. The drizzle outside so inviting, you simply could not resist.
    You had to join.

    You joined.
    As happy as a five year old playing forbidden games,
    Games of rain,
    Games of love,
    Games of love,
    Games of love...
    Who is the father?... you repeat in your mind
    Laying cool wet fingers on the stretched skin of your belly,
    Who is your father?...

    The rain feels warm.
    You remove the jacket,
    Open the zipper and lovingly lay down the dress in a pool of mud,
    Take off bra, panties,
    Naked like the mighty trees around you
    You lift your head to the sky
    And remembering long forgotten ballet lessons
    Start pirouetting on outstretched toes...
    The father is the man I will die loving,
    The sweet rain in my life,
    The torrential music in my ears,
    The owner of the life grain seeded in my belly...
    The father is the only man whom I offered to touch my body
    After he offered me to touch my heart...

    The drizzle pours on.
    Your eyes are closed
    Welcoming the help offered by the picking rain
    Into creating the sweeping deluge of tears streaming down your cheeks, your hair,
    Your protruding belly
    And drowning mother earth in so much happiness...

    A tiny foot deforms again your perfection.
    You touch the spot and bring the fingers to your lips.
    Soon, my prince,
    Soon you will know love like none has ever known.
    Except for me.
    I love you.

More Like sweet, More Like Bitter...


Terminal Love...

(Pure. The Prequel...)

    Three years ago.
    Even your silence is poetry, I told her.
    But I am never silent, she protested.
    You sleep, I said, donít you?

    I could hear her fingers freezing above the keyboard,
    Her eyes reading again the words on the screen
    Trying to penetrate a meaning she was unsure of,
    Closing her eyes and remembering earlier remarks shy, irrelevant, revealing,
    Scratching the cat between the ears
    Then suddenly feeling her heart losing its regular step
    As she penetrated the riddleís inner core...
    Her eyes returned to the screen
    No longer averting their regard from what she knew was there, was coming,
    Allowing it to happen by laying out the first lines herself...

              ...When the silent western gateways
              Waken up from daylong slumber
              Stretching lazy fire fingers
              Long horizons painted amber,
              Slides, reluctantly obeying,
              The majestic ball of fury,
              Liquid hell pleading for mercy
              From a ruthless heavenís jury...

    ...said the poet, she wrote.

              ...Let my raysí thin spider fabric
              Linger back a lonely instant
              Time my bulk through yawning ocean
              Sinks to worlds a nightlife distant,
              And while whiteís eternal colors
              Dress this mortalís raving petals,
              I will flare one timeless eon
              As her passion my heart nettles...

    ...said the sun, said the poet, said I, I wrote.

    Her eyes riveted to the screen,
    Hoping not to see, knowing she would see,
    Yearning for a reality molded into a frozen dream,
    Magnificent, dead, like a masterpiece.

    Marry me... I said.
    You know I cannot... she said.
    I know you cannot. Love me... I said.
    You know I do... she said.
    I know you do... I said.

    Three years ago. Three years day and day.
    Love unending.
    She said the words,
    I rhymed them,
    She colored her moods in her words,
    Times a girl, times a forest,
    Times an autumn day chasing unbearable summer heat
    With sparkling moist breaths
    Born depth of musty wells bordered by blooming daffodils...
    Blue daffodils... I rhymed...
    Yellow... she chimed...
    Blue, I insisted, blue, like the white of your teeth, like the red of your lips...
    Blue, she agreed, like the crystal of your eye, like the golden thread of your love...

    For long days the screen would stay blank,
    A blinking cursor beating with mathematical accuracy each so and so seconds,
    An empty mailbox, a pain at the bottom of a deep pit hidden inside my belly,
    And then suddenly thousands of suns
    Bursting like tons of popcorn in a forest fire magnified to cosmic dimensions
    Filling my screen with screams of pleasure, of fascination,
    Interminable excuses as sweet as a virginís first cry of delight
    That so few have ever had the right to hear,
    And kisses, so many, raging, intoxicating, delirious death in a shattering embrace...

    Ending with a question. Always.
    Do you love me?
    Turning off the screen. Always.
    Before I had time to answer.
    Afraid of the answer. Knowing the answer. Telling me the answer next time.
    You do.

    Three years ago. Three years day and day. Three years now.

    We never met, she said.
    We never met, I agreed.
    We never touched, she said.
    We never touched, I agreed.

    The never line, the line I feared beyond reason,
    The nightmare seeded in each of my ecstatic dreams
    Now finally showing signs of life on its own,
    Our enthralling garden finally giving in through one long neglected corner
    To an all powerful weed threatening the lanes, the trees,
    And most of all the flowers, oh, the flowers...

    We will never meet, she said,
    I did not respond.
    We will never touch, she said.
    I did not respond.
    I could hear her fingers flying softly above the keyboard,
    Hardly touching,
    Rare, lonely drops of rain hitting randomly one of the keys
    And splashing crystallizing salt sparks upon the unblinking screen.
    My mindís eye lowered its eyelid,
    Imagining her delicate hand
    Holding a long white shapely feather between her fingers,
    Dipping it from time to time in blue-violet ink
    And branding small words in impeccable calligraphy on a piece of satin paper...
    A queen in love with the accused delivering her sentence...
    A death sentence...

    Donít answer, my screen will be off as you do,
    I will never know your answer,
    I donít want to know your answer,
    I love you too much for an answer.
    You gave me life,
    So much life,
    An exquisitely exotic garden of words garnered at petalsí rims,
    Decorating oddly shaped leaves,
    Hanging onto the flowing mists undeciphered messages
    Waiting for a magic wand to turn them into colorful fountains of warmth...
    All I gave you is but time. Loss. Time.
    There is so much life in you,
    So much joy,
    So much need for a womanís subtle breeze

              To blow raging fires in your hidden desires,
              To merge in your nights with your bodyís delights,
              To shave your dayís stubble and soothe your heartís rubble...

    My last mail. Donít cry. I do. I cannot stand your pain.
    I am but a screen,
    Cold to the touch, silent, breathless,
    You donít see my smile, you donít hear my sigh,
    So far away.
    Non existent, a dream we had,
    We cannot have.
    You are so warm,
    Passion flows so freely through your veins...

    Oh, the flourishing storms in my mind so hurtful...

    Warmth you need,
    A warm woman you need, warm, close, warm,
    They are,
    Waiting for you,
    Close to you, to your touch, to your need,
    To a body locked away from life for three long years

              To love you, oh, madly,
              For hours and years,
              To kiss, oh, so gladly,
              Your sadness and fears,
              To share in your death
              When the sun rises west
              Your lips to her breath,
              Your hand to her breast...

    You are free.

    The screen went blank.
    Nooo... I screamed, you witch, you, life, you love...
    How did you do it,
    What kind of trick is that,
    Oh, back... please come back,

    But the cursor kept blinking at its mathematically calculated corner,
    With its mathematically calculated accuracy,
    Counting accurately the flood of life leaving my body
    And evaporating through my fingertips.


    A knock at the door.
    She opened.
    Blue lines decorating the wasted gardens underneath her eyes
    Like a field of bluebells growing wild along a rift in the landscape.
    She signed the registered letter,
    Big red warning words on the envelope about the futility of tax evasion,
    Crime, punishment...
    She sighed, tired, numb. Opened the envelope.
    A narrow long piece of paper fell to the carpet.
    She picked it up.
    One word written on it. Ring.
    She closed her eyes,
    Waited. Minutes. Hours. A smile frozen on her lips.
    Then she took the narrow piece of paper,
    Dropped a point of glue on it
    And wrapped it around the second from left finger of her left hand.
    She knew the choice was out of her hand,
    The magic was working,
    There was no volition in the move that
    With a sharp snapping sound
    Turned the screen on.
    No volition... so why were there thousands of horses running wild
    In the desert of her chest?

    The message waiting for her on the screen said
    Do you admire my sleight of hand
    Or are you ready to bite my head off
    In one of those wonderful excesses of fury
    You never showed me you are capable of?
    Even when I angered you terribly.
    You always forgave me,
    Do you forgive me now?

    I followed your advice. Seriously,
    Donít you believe me?
    I met this gorgeous, tall, shapely blonde,
    I told her I was a poet,
    She immediately unzipped my pants,
    Took them off
    And started going through my pockets.
    I told her I was poor.
    Then she slapped me
    And left. Took my pants with her.

    She stopped for a moment,
    The smile getting to life, cutting deeper into her face,
    The whiteness of shyly hiding teeth showing...

    I didnít give up. I donít give up so easily, you know me.
    I met this gorgeous, tall, shapely blonde,
    No... no, another one.

    By now the smile turned into puppy laughter,
    Rolling tears burning round holes into the carpet
    Before sizzling away into phosphorescent nothingness.

    I told her I was a poet.
    She immediately unzipped her pants,
    Took them off
    And showed me the poem tattooed on her buttís left cheek,
    The side of the heart...

    I AM BAD

    I pointed the spelling mistake to her.
    Then she slapped me.
    And left. Leaving her pants with me.

    She reached the bottom line on the screen,
    By now laughing hysterically,
    Rolling on the floor
    With the cat chasing angrily the beads rolling from her eyes
    And magically vanishing at clawís touch.
    She stopped. Frightened.
    The following screen waiting to be pushed up.
    All she had to do was push one key.
    She pushed the key.

    It started
    If it was this worldís reality that I was looking for
    I would have found it. Easily.
    If it was dancing, loving, making love
    I could have found it. Easily.
    If I could not have waited eternity
    I would not have made the first three years steps of eternityís road...
    And now six more months since you disappeared.

    I wanted the legend,
    You gave me the legend.
    I wanted the queen,
    You made me a knight.
    I wanted the passion,
    You poured upon me turmoil, fire, hell, life.
    I wanted you.
    One day, you will give me... you.

    She closed her eyes.
    There was more text on the screen,
    She did not have to read it. She knew it.
    Not even wondering how.
    She huddled in the long sofaís corner,
    Knees to chin,
    Hands around knees,
    Pale lips softly reciting his unseen words...

              Worlds ago, in molded armor down my musclesí ire shaped,
              Wild my mount, the bastard stallion son to mare by tempest raped,
              Light my sword forged depth of sunset bearing magic long its blade,
              Huge the dragonís coiling fury, small the riding gentle maid.

              Maiden, yourís the choice of battle, craves my heart your tender breast,
              Say the word and magic guide me carving heart off dragon chest,
              Say the word and if your wish is I will breach my blade times three,
              On my knees Iíll pray your beauty as your dragonís slaying me...

    More, there was more...

              Worlds ago, the stardom fury shaped its armyís scoreless ways,
              Mighty fire raging pebbles strewn long ropes of braided rays,
              I, the sun, immortal soldier, blazing glare my warring trade,
              Teeming mindless life my kingdom, and one smiling gentle maid.

              Maiden, yourís the choice of kingdom, craves my heart your tender lips,
              Say the word and barren planets Iíll emblaze to flying ships,
              Say the word and if your wish is trade my hell to candle flame,
              As your lips I touch in wonder, softly breathe and wipe my name...

    There was more, did she dare?...

              Days ago, my face unshaven framing clouds beneath my eyes,
              Steady fingers wording anger under tormentís strutting vise,
              Wild the manner I decided past the edge to soar and fade,
              Restful... calm... she touched my fingers, oceansí far the gentle maid.

              Maiden, yourís the choice of morrow, craves my heart your tender life,
              Say the word and born be legends... knightís... and sunís... and poetís wife...
              Say the word and if your wish is I will dry my inkís last rhyme,
              Never more to sing your beauty, never more, till start of time...

    She opened her eyes,
    Got up,
    Went to the screen and to the message waiting for her,
    Clear, unambiguous, sharp.

    Say the word.


    I was lying on the floor,
    My eyes fixed to the yellowish bulb,
    The incandescent wire slightly vibrating.
    I knew when.
    I did not know if,
    I did not know what.
    I heard the first beep. The if was answered.
    I waited.
    I heard a second one. Then a third.
    Then quiet.
    I waited. Shivering. Something was wrong,
    Not three, she knows, not three,
    Three is wrong,
    She knows three is wrong.
    I need one more beep, girl.
    Mercy, please have mercy.

    I remained lying on the floor one more hour.
    Hoping. Praying. Giving up.
    I went to the screen.
    Yellow incandescence patches dancing in front of my eyes,
    Three characters waiting for me,
    I stared blindly at the three Xs hiding my life,
    Then clicked them one by one.
    I dared blink
    Just as a smiley preceded message started rolling in...

    You asked for one single word, didnít you?...

    She ripped my sanity,
    She raved my heart.
    She ravished my life.

    I love you.

    I still wonder... who of us said it?...

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Evasive memories...

    I hear them roving in my mind
    Through pathways partly hidden,
    Evasive memories from times
    Of lust, of love forbidden.

    In eyes unseeing leaving trace,
    Torn chapters with no story,
    Faltering streaks of drifting pain,
    Receding gusts of glory.

    From time to time inside my chest
    I hear lamenting rumble,
    I wonder, smiling, love or life
    Will be the first to crumble?


    Of sudden... how?... whence comes this tune
    This sweeping gale unending,
    This crude caress... a single touch
    My bleeding spirit mending?...

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    Going by,
    Minutes, hours, days...

    Lost to the world, lost to us,
    One day more of nothing, one day less of everything.
    I open my eyes, your eyes are closed,
    I dream, do you?
    I close my eyes, you open yours,
    I dream, do you?
    Flowing numbness invades the senses,
    The touch, the sight... is pain a sense?
    Probably it is not,
    Immune to numbness, pitiful in its vainglory,
    Boasting arrogantly the meaningless conquest of my mortality,
    Dying with me, each day closer,
    Getting there,
    In days, hours, minutes...

More Like sweet, More Like Bitter...


Did You Lose Your Way?...

    Did you lose your way
    Somewhere, in the wilderness of real life
    Along the path leading to that secluded place
    I was waiting for you?
    Did realityís hooks bite into your flesh
    And with one painful jerk
    Pull you back to the neatly paved road
    Leading so clearly from one nowhere
    To another?

    Shall I open my vein
    And mark your way
    With haze surrounded blood drops
    Like in old fashioned kidsí stories,
    Over hills, down valleys,
    Over seas?...
    Do you think you will be able to find them in the sea?
    Not that it matters
    As, with the last drop leaving my body,
    Fathoms deep my body will sink,
    Sea water filling my emptied veins,
    Fishes nestling in my emptied eyes,
    Sand slowly sifting through my emptied heart.

    The sound of your heels hollow on the pavement
    As you drag your living carcass
    Through shops, through theatres, through beds,
    The sound of chains muffled to the ears,
    Visible in your eyes
    As you wade on,
    Elegant, proud, broken.

    When was it that you suddenly heard the silence?
    Was it? Will it be?
    Shedding your hooks,
    Pieces of flesh still clinging to the unforgiving steel
    Prey to buzzards and scorn,
    Your pain invisible, receding,
    Your gait careless, ecstatic as you rediscover your freedom
    And wanting eyes desperately start questing the trail...

    When the first drop you will find
    Let your smile be warm and kind,
    When one hundred drops youíve kissed
    Find the three that you have missed,
    At two hundred... fades the trace
    And your eyes dress teardrop lace
    As through waist-deep grass you wade
    And your visions slowly fade...

    Girl, oh girl, deny your tear,
    Let my whisper find your ear,
    Let my flower prick your skin,
    Let my caress cleanse your sin,
    Call, and empty veins will roar,
    Empty eyes defy will pour,
    And an empty heart will wake
    Forging sand to crystal lake.

    As this smile your body rips
    Crystal rain will touch your lips.

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    The vise gripping your body
    In its inevitable embrace,
    Its tentacles sunk deep in your flesh,
    Feeding on you,
    Keeping you alive as long as you served its purpose
    Then ready to throw your empty shell away.
    Unjust, uneven,
    Giving you in return breath...
    And pain...
    Terrible, unimaginable pain...

    You looked up at me,
    Waiting, not asking,
    Waiting for a nod of my head,
    Was your wait long?
    Fractions of a second?
    I nodded,
    You hesitated
    While I took your hand holding the lifeline
    And guided it to my chest,
    Opened my shirt
    And let you plug it into my heart...

    To share the life,
    To share the pain,
    Sharing the love.

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    Iím hungry for you, you said.
    Your desireís entrails rumbling loud,
    Your mellow voice sliding slowly over my skin,
    Soaking into my flesh
    Like thick boiling honey, softening its texture,
    Readying it for the supreme sacrifice
    When I lie down on your plate
    And your mouth tortures me into voluntary submission
    To the ripping sound of salivating teeth
    To the crawling insistence of a rasping tongue
    To the sublime pleasure of being nibbled to death
    While regarding the cannibalistic satisfaction in your fixed gaze
    As you gulp mouthfuls of me.

    Your hunger satisfied
    You fall asleep by my side,
    My ear on your stomach, Listening...


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    So personal,
    Can I define it the way you want it,
    Is it impressions, colors, memories you want,
    Is it a rolling whisper
    Sweeping you off your feet, smashing your body into thousands of sparks
    Igniting your imagination
    Dragging you through thorn fields
    Crushed flowers sticking to your naked body
    Dressing it in never woven crumbling petals?
    Not sure I can define it any way,
    Is it definable?

    That day,
    Long ago,
    When aged eight I faced my most cruel enemy,
    Three years older,
    The one that shoved his finger in my face scoffing at my difference
    And making it sound an aberration
    Till I bent down raking the frozen snow with rigid fingers
    And hitting him in the eye,
    Falling to the ground with a pack of mad human cubs on my back
    Rubbing my face in the melting ice, punching my body,
    The pain soaking into my flesh...
    The beauty of the pain, of being cut down when refusing to bend...
    Is this the beauty you are looking for?...

    The girl aged thirteen,
    Same as me,
    When the sudden wind billowed her skirt upwards
    Inviting my eyes to a momentary view of pale knobby legs
    Ending in a pair of boyish looking briefs
    Colored white with red dots,
    Before she desperately pulled the skirt down
    Looking at me, begging with no words that I do not laugh
    At her tear filling eyes,
    And blushing to my ears I did not,
    The beauty of innocence waking up to life...
    Is this the beauty you are looking for?...

    My motherís hands,
    A lifelong of hard work encrusted into the rough fingers
    Ending in fire red nail polish
    Peeling around the edges
    Now finally at rest
    Unresponding to my handís squeeze
    As she lay comatose on the large hospital bed
    Not listening to my begging words
    To return home before it was too late to return anywhere,
    Then listening to my begging words that she leaves
    Before withering amongst the tubesí forest invading her privacy
    With the callous indifference of a plastic soul,
    My motherís fingers memory...
    Is this the beauty you are looking for?...

    A womanís love,
    One I never saw, never touched, never kissed,
    Living with me a lifetime of words,
    Rhymes clashing mid of thoughtsí highways
    Filling the void within with undulating whispers
    Promising an eternity to come once the irrelevancies of reality die away
    In their flesh drawers
    Making place for a raging passion immeasurable by human artifice
    Pulling Godís sleeve and asking for recognition
    Of a fire never to be consumed, never to be started,
    A womanís love, waiting to never happen...
    Is this the beauty you are looking for?...

    So many ways,
    Do you think I touched the essence of even one single letter?

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