stream of consciousness

Of Creativity

if i start writing itll come to me

like a wind that blows from oer the sea

i shouldnt judge wat my soul can hear

but only be ready when it becomes clear

come to me o muse divine

and help me scribble these next few lines

 

i need the inspiration now

to serve this force i vow

holy high creativity

and beautiful transparency

i need to use you when you come

and use me same until its done

the wonders you can show through me

are glorious for eyes to see

transcendance can be thus attained

to catch it waxing before it wanes

to let it flow through you so free

to write down what it says to me

if i can do this simple task

where it comes from i wont ask

because i know it is divine

part of God the Lord of mine

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Moment of clarity

Reality pinpricks across the surface;

The dance of the narrow needle.

Everything’s illegal, so we end up selling parts of our own bodies,

We were running free, but somehow got lost in the underground,

So much sympathy for our demons,

Crying gasoline tears in the heat of summer’s tease.

 

An ocean washes up pebbles and bones,

Victims of discrimination, beaten and stoned.

Preservation burns when trapped in the hold,

In the mind of a stranger, struggling to be free,

Resisting all instinct that is explosive within.

Submitting to the charm and seduction of fate,

Though I’ll never forget who I was,

I’ve collided with the man I want to be.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Everyone thinks they know everything about others from where they stand. I realise now very little look inside themselves with that same deconstructive approach. This does not make me better than the average man; I just believe as a man gets older he should redefine himself and improve upon himself, instead of looking at what he doesn't have or is missing.

you should not have come

Folder: 
Time hurries on

i would, gladly,
sell
my soul
to the little earbiting devil
to him with his mercury saliva-

he is killing me drop
by
drop.

ah, faustus.
but i'll use my ill-gotten gains
greedy as a fox for eggs
i'll drink him dry, my devil,
and exact my
revenge.

oh, churl!

you forgot we're wicked,
too.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written January, 2012.

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Oleanders

Folder: 
Poems 2005

Destroy the dreams once shared between us
only to be haunted by their ghosts.

Yesterday the
oleanders came into bloom
under the harvest moon.

Remind me when I fall down
everyone will one day know my name.
My, how beautiful you are

despite your flaws.
Mercy me.
Behind my eyes the cosmos lie. Don't you
envy me?
Rough me up a bit now, baby.

Many a day ago you came;
yesterday, while beneath me.

Neither of us could ever lie
and claim to have hated how we killed.
My love is not one to be swayed by oleanders
even under the harvest moon.

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