Tickling Resplendently Across The Black Ivory Of My Soul

1.
she,
born to play
these beckoning
heartstrings

her avatar,
a monarch butterfly

flapping like two pages
from the spring symphony
of heart-stung eyes

those
sweetest notes

tremulously ringing
from the instrument
of my overflowing center;

I dissolve
into orchestral crescendo

2.
forged in the cauldron
of a universal consciousness

I was whittled
and honed

only to fit
the curve
of her lips

only to feel the quenching adroitness
of her flower-dancing fingers

3.
unfrozen
from the tundra
of ice-laden
devastated hearts

I sit
watching the clouds
morph into your beautiful spirit

I am
bursting

I am unfolded
for you

open
heart
walls demolished

love rising
to meet the open sky
of your smile

my hand gently
pressed to your cheek

my kiss resting softly
against your forehead

a finespun garment
to be put away

and brought out again

when you need
comfort most

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

She, The Only Knowledge That Remains

I.

My mind is a juggernaut

of dirt and steel.

 

My hands on your body,

the arbiter of all that is real.

 

With tears that fall

like the spider crawls,

I sing these syllables

of voracious yearning:

 

how I want you,

how I need you,

to slide open these closed curtains of Self

with the silky drawstring of your trembling lower lip.

 

II.

Welcoming the sun-stream that kissed across his face,

the boy with the nervous fingers sat in the dusty tranquility

of delicate possibilities.

 

He recalled the way her streamlined caresses made him heavier;

like a burgeoning white dwarf star,

his heart hurtled towards the Chandrasekhar limit.

 

As they built the skyline of ideas higher and higher

with the love-painted bricks of body and breath,

 

a wall of shattered blue sky began to appear

in gorgeous streaks of orgasmic annihilation.

 

He reminisced how the rainbow of bliss

seemed to emanate from the softness of her skin;

as they encircled each other like planetary rings,

they dove in, they dove in.

 

Imprisoned in the throes of a glorious epiphany,

the birthplace of every element besides hydrogen and helium

became the volatile-but-fertile kindling of her seductive smile.

 

III.

My mind is a juggernaut

of dirt and steel.

 

My hands on your body,

the arbiter of all that is real.

 

With tears that fall

like the spider crawls,

I sing these syllables

of voracious yearning:

 

how I want you,

how I need you,

to slide open these closed curtains of Self

with the silky drawstring of your trembling lower lip.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

The Escape Velocity Of A Rorschach Sunset

I.
As the fiery half-eaten orb
melts farther into the mountains,
the heart shudders in astonished jolts.

A gilded feast of morphing shadows tempts
the pattern-hungry brain to arrange
dozens of weather-beaten points
into monstrous faces of jagged rock.

Vectoring like a maniacal dragonfly
the eyes construct (and deconstruct)
tensile bridges of silken meaning.

The shifting boundary of the rugged terrain
slips in and out of focus;
the cerebral cortex strains
like an under-powered microscope
scanning for a fistful of wind-strewn prions.

As night sounds alight
from their distant cliff perches
the velvet handcuffs of night
ease onto the day’s dumbfounded wrists.

II.
Right now,
on the opposite side of the planet,
day swallows night.

But here,
as the crackling firelight
concedes to the ashen skies,
the entire mountainside heaves
like a labyrinthine lung expanding and contracting,
expanding and contracting until finally,
in a subconscious spasm of breath-stopping resolution,
a flood of imagination floats perspective higher:

twin spires spike skyward
like the saber-toothed fangs
of an 800 pound Smilodon populator,
conjured larger than life
to stalk the freshly darkened horizon.

III.
It was as if,
over the millennia,
the beast had evaded extinction
while scaling the mountain peaks
from the bottom up.

As its rock-ribbed limbs
slothfully stumbled skyward,
an avalanche of tumbling stones
lazily colonized the landscape below.

And now,
the backbreaking journey complete,
its insatiable jaws rise
with the curtains of night
to prey upon the starry skies.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Home

The winter flower’s bloom
erupts in fragrance
as your weariness cascades
and crumbles with each step closer
to the warmth of home
(which is simply any space
in the universe where
our hands meet
and our eyes say hello).

In truth,
I hold on to you tightest
in the moments
when we close ourselves off
from one another.

Even during floods of anger
I know that soon,
in the patient darkness,
only regenerating beauty
will spill from your night-sleeping eyes
to mine.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Time Filled My Pockets With The Glow Worms Of Momentum

1. The Sound Of A Teardrop Distilled Into Alien Ears

the faultless sun
sure shot us
an indecipherable gaze
that day

we drifted to the
atmosphere’s edge
naked

like an orchid blooming
against the defunct metal
of an orbiting satellite

we were left stranded
on the rooftop of the world

where regret pools
in wailing shadows

yet
together we formed Pterodactyl wings
and flew away on thin sheets of skin,
the prehistoric wind brimming
with the fitful sleep of ancient matter

2. Her Superior Genetic Architecture

she
a black-skirted spaceship
hiding in the glare of the sun

stepping lightly down
from the clouds

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

beneath her
doors creak open
in anticipation

the brightness of her face
swaying under the slow-churning skies

the world greedily swallows
her rings of ambrosia
in savory lumps

leaving nothing
for the scurrying insects below

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Existence May Be Ephemeral, But Cool Is Forever

 

 

Graffiti tags stretch over his mind like plastic surgery gone wrong, like Tunguska flattening a million trees in 1908, a minor asteroid blip bad hair day for planet earth, just ask the dinosaurs, 66 million reasons to bow out into bony dirt for the human race as we pose like dirty harry, cooler than any upstart species ought to think itself to be.  Lock & load like it’s the 80s and go out in a hail of lead, a hero’s final heartbeats painted across the cluttered cityscape while the invincibility of youth bleeds out in the black & white swansong of a fading vintage photograph.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

You Lift Me Up

 

 

Day by day you lighten my step
and strengthen my heart in every way.

Moment by moment your vivacious soul heals my scars,
your magical touch on display.

When the stars shine in the sky,
when I see that look in your eyes,
the universe blooms like the dawn,
our cosmic path a joy to be on.

Whenever I hear your voice,
you lift me up.

Whenever I touch your skin,
you lift me up.

And should I stumble again,
you’ll lift me up.

Nothing can compare
to the beauty of your stare.

Nowhere in existence can outshine
your radiant presence in my mind.

Our love is unconditional,
without limits,
and so sublime.

 

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

 

My Spectacular Soulmate, Your Heart Is The Rainbow’s End (Spoken Word)

1.
Limitless love sparkling
in the verdant fields of your eyes:
may this day lead to a blossoming of healing,
a single but vital step forward
in this sometimes bewildering journey
that unfolds haphazardly before us.

Here I stand,
steeped in the majesty of the rising sun,
longing for the immeasurable treasure
of your shimmering and ineffable presence.

Oh,
how I crave the nourishment of your smile,
the sustenance of your laughter,
the spiraling staircase of your scintillating intellect;
those precious moments of stillness
after you gaze into my eyes,
unfurling the elegant tapestry of the universe
without uttering a single word.

2.
Clouds form your pristine face
as the dizzying scope of the sky
rains down upon my frenzied heart
like a springtime jubilee,
a message sent from far away and long ago
that still somehow rises like smoke in the night,
like the glow of the moon in every lover’s eye,
the ripened tranquility of evening darkness
awaiting the arrival of that first kiss:
hands held gently upon hips,
sunset buried deep in the vault of our hearts.

3.
A memory never to be relinquished,
a dream never to be dismissed,
a deluge of indelible moments spent under the stars,
an enduring lifetime written out in the language of the wind
and in the vibrations of the galaxy;
sliding by joyful mountains of time,
we leap along the path like flames of togetherness,
turning the end of a long journey
into the beginning of a home.

These Earthly Vessels Cannot Prevent Us From Exploring The Cosmos With A Wink And A Smile, Song Poem

 

 

The way the stars will shine,
the way your heart rises to greet the night
the emotion of your eyes
the countless thoughts floating in your sky.

Whether or not the universe reveals all its secrets,
whether or not our lives branch out like an infinite tree,
I know I’ll be searching for you in every wavelength,
I will be dreaming of you and I.

Never doubt that who you are is beautiful,
and where I want to be.

Always know that tomorrow,
I’ll be dreaming of us,
existing together in perfect synchrony.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

The Fire In Your Midnight Eyes, The Premonition That Tastes Like Skin

 

 

I.
Tenuously,
the aging outline
of her solemn face twirls,

tracing the meandering galactic tendrils
that emerged from her ten-thousand light year goodbye,
the kind of heartbreak that builds upon the horizon like an avenging angel,
like a city of jagged shadows eating away the starscraping brightness of the past.

As lightning bolts streak across a cluttered heartscape,
the drumbeat of time thunders forward
and we are leaves on her river,
ever approaching the hungriest waterfall.

II.
Swaying in the wind,
we can become one.

If you offer your hand,
I will hold it in mine.

If you contemplate the universe,
I will adore you even more.

If your deepest thoughts
are withering in chains
in order to smooth away
the beautiful complexities of your frail essence,
I will inject a thousand caresses and whispers
into your day so you realize there is another way.

We are artists,
with singularities dynamiting
our hearts from day one.

We are storytellers with the wintry breath
that haunts the blackness of Now
like an old woman in the window that isn’t there,
pulling dreams from absolute zero,
capturing quantum butterflies from
the expanding vacuum of space
like we were born to do it,
which we so fucking were,
my sweet.

Here,
embraced by velvet starlight,
soaring to the peculiar gorgeousness
of songs we may one day share,
the rhythms and words of the cosmos
dance across the planets and stars,
stumble towards the humble journeys of asteroids and comets,
revealing in each step that even
the most minuscule subatomic particle,
even the grandest map of the cosmic microwave background,
has always been rushing joyfully in our bloodstreams,
thumping along with every heartbeat,
tasting the immaculate heavens with every kiss.

III.
I want to see the fire
of midnight in your eyes.

Swaying in the wind,
we can become one.

 


Please enjoy my books (FREE pdf of first two books here) and leave a 5 star review:

Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic