Sunrise Maiden Of The Cosmos (Love Is The Crown, The Erudite Wisdom Of The Heart Shines On)

I.
You are the most seductive woman to ever exist,
a desire so pure you unhinge galaxies
until they begin to fall apart.

The wonderment of your eyes gazing starward on a windy, blurry day is the pinnacle of art,
poetry forged from the scalding elements of love and wisdom,
hope and yearning ascending bright bone deep into
the cool hot glow of emblazoned metal that hungrily leaps onto my orgasmic skin,
illustrating the flourishing story of my heart with harems of hyacinths,
painting stellar devotion into what seemed like sad empty space,
tearing down the spectral fullness of rainbows with your teeth,
kissing insidiously stalking heart-predators into glorious extinction,
the deformed earthscapes of the past bleeding rich veins of molasses regret
that suddenly bow in deference to the viscosity of your sweet quicksilver oblivion,
my soul rinsed clean like an unfinished watercolor left out in a thunderstorm.

Your tears,
I would taste them,
essences of firecracker bliss or charcoal-tinged heartbreak
off-roading into the meandering hills of my quantum-tunneled psyche.

Oh,
to behold your indomitable strength of spirit,
just to cradle an infinitesimal fraction
of your scorched-ivory magnificence in my hand,
to study how it scintillates unrestrainedly under the star-shifting night sky,
like heavenly bodies diminished, nuclear fusion bent into the shape of blinking fireflies
that wander with renewed purpose,
helter-skelter forest lanterns beckoning the night
into a startling treetop crescendo of immaculate ambrosial fruition.

II.
You are the sublime cusp,
the ravishing gravity well I prance upon,
orbital worship brazen sky,
poetry soaring like eagles hell bent
on capturing heaven’s light.

III.
Ancient lovers,
pond ripples voraciously expanding
as hungry eternity echoes victoriously
in the reawakened full burn sun of our meeting eyes,
home being the space in between our spoken words,
where thoughtfulness rises in gentle wisps.

In a garden that blooms in the language of hello,
I rest my head upon the harmonious tranquility of your pillowy smile.

Rianne,
you bathe me
in the cherishing frequencies
of your flaming quickmatter heart,
which adjusts purposefully each day
to the unwinding singularity of my core,
those infinitely regressing and enslaved solar storms of hope and longing
that only you would dare accept with such unvarnished glee.

We touch and ignite,
making molten love
out of each singular moment,
savoring what is,
and what it shall be:
twin cosmic creations
standing like fractals in an old growth forest,
jaywalking into the smiling stratosphere
heartbeat to heartbeat,
oxygen to oxygen,
knowing we truly are
the only North Star
that could ever exist
in each other’s sky.

 

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

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

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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

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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

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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.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

The Heart That Pulls Away Must Mimic And Overcome The Stark Brutalism Of A Solitary Flower Basking In The Final Hours Of Summer Sunlight

I have been smothered
in a stultifying mud of lonesome indifference,
a volcanic eruption of apathetic terror casting a heavy shadow
into the corners of what is an essentially boisterous and magnificent spirit.

I should write the poems each night,
I should play my songs on the keyboard and sing the lyrics each day,
to honor the extraordinary, creative being that inhabits my shoes.

I should groove each day like the wild children of the forest to the synthesizers that burst forth in my dreams like a Black Celebration, like Your Silence Face.

Yet I go for weeks gathering dust on the instrument of Me,
expiration date 21st Century.

And I am lost in this Ferris Wheel of Mirrors,
a conversationalist talking only to himself.

I am a prism split into wavelengths,
a rainbow’s autopsy,
that motley cadaver,
staring up at the frozen thoughts of a thousand recycled moments,
and a dozen heart-shattering goodbyes.

For when no one hears the orchestra of your heart Crescendo
there is a natural tendency to stumble in your stride,
as if the harness of the empty room is holding you back from being your Pure Self.

For decades I lived for the Others,
pouring my absolute devotion into those whom had not the complexity or selflessness or introspection to truly appreciate the momentous magic bubbling up from my heart’s intoxicating elixir.

Oh,
how the mirages
swept me up!

How I believed!
How I loved so fiercely,
until the moment they retreated into pettiness,
the shackles of their own existence binding them
to a prison of their own making.

And all the towering kingdoms
crumbled into nothingness.

Oceans of love
revealed as spiritless,
whimpering,
pathetically lacking in resolve,
water denatured into bumbling hydrogen
and whimpering oxygen.

Thus,
a chorus of corpses,
those cackling crows of remembrance,
line the rain-soaked byways of the past
like road-side fatalities,
and the loveliness of blooming itself
seems to take on another meaning.

Yet tonight I write,
propelled by the firelight of a gauntlet
of flickering candles,
by the powerful beating of an artist’s unquenchable heart.

I know you must be out there,
wondering where I am.

And I love you for thinking that.
And perhaps two sentient and artistic beings
can dream such absurdities into existence.

Making love every day,
mind and body.

Sharing every peculiar corner of our minds,
dancing like fools and knowing it is the unbreakable connection
of our synchronized essences that contains meaning beyond the shallow material shadows that flicker upon the cave wall.

It is late,
and I am singing my songs.

I am no longer a young man,
but every day I am striving to be something more.

Each moment without you
does seem like a loss,
and how mistaken I have been,
but you still haven’t told me your name,
my love.

Spell it out with your lips,
here underneath the starry sky,
and may each letter last a lifetime,
and may each time we hold hands
release a flock of butterflies
in that exalted dimension of Love
where only artists can go,
where only the passionate reside,
where You and I shall soon meet,
in the scintillating waterfall
of eternal understanding,
fiery desire,
and infinite devotion.

 

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Echoes Of Fulfillment Race Away From Us (In The Wake Of Our Kiss The Cosmos Is Reborn)

 

 

1.
To be wrapped up
in the contentment
of your breathtaking smile

to be stripped
of all Earthly burdens
by the otherworldly embrace
of your nurturing eyes:

this is all that I have desperately yearned for,
my flailing humanity seeping with starlight,
a poet’s heart thundering to the cascading rhythm of time’s hurtling arrow.

I swallow the moon and howl with furious joy,
billions of years suddenly elucidated by the purity and integrity
that you paint into the aging lines of my face,
deft brushstrokes of immortality flowing from your supremely artistic fingers.

I am the boy with galaxies colliding in his soul,
standing on the edge of the highest cliff in the solar system,
surveying all heavenly motion with a teardrop in the corner of his eye.

I am the glittering starscape above,
ripe with the fierceness of fascination,
finally released into the true momentum of living
by the astonishing emanations of your quicksilver mind,
by the ancient and alluring sway of your ocean of stellar desire.

2.
You are the girl with an empathetic teardrop
glistening in the corner of her eye;

here in the tornado’s calm
we emerge as one from this epic
and tender maelstrom:

hands and hearts held high,
ripe with the fierceness of fascination,
swallowing the cosmos and howling with furious joy,
painting the universe again and again
with the timeless sights and sounds of true love,
a universe renewed,
a kaleidoscopic bouquet bursting
with the raucous flowers of delirious enchantment.

3.
I sing us a simple song
about the passionate tranquility
that you splash against the flickering shadows of my existence.

My voice rises and falls
as the piano keys strike their heartfelt sequences.

Yet what I compose is a meager trickle of melody
intended to emulate the incalculable waterfall
of your generous and transcendent spirit.

For the endless epiphany
of your startling intellect
cannot be captured or imitated;

the irrepressible love
that you shower into my life
is a resplendent shield of invincibility.

And now I kneel before you,
dedicating my life to protecting and nourishing you,
cherishing how the fire of truth is reflected in our eyes.

For there is no greater weapon against the vicissitudes of life
than the tenderest awareness that we evoke with every kiss,
with every restorative caress,
with every deep exploration of the oceans of thought
that we once thought were only ours to visit.

4.
Basking in the boldness of our mutual awakening,
I trace the melodic edges of your sultry smile,
and I lean forward to give you a kiss.

 


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Holding The Bruised Rose Blossoms Of An Attempted Genetic Rinse

Juggernaut Of Yearning

Metaphysical Magic

Gliding Gracefully Across Space-time, We Rise To The Surface Of Ourselves

 

1.

Flourishes of steel gray sky sporadically emerge

from the wind-tickled treetops

as she gathers momentum

one bounding step at a time.

 

Left foot,

crumpled leaves. 

 

Right foot,

decaying stump.

 

Rhythm dancing like war drums splattered

against a tattered horizon.

 

She runs instinctively,

memories drifting away

from her throbbing center

like rebuked moonlets,

like the emaciated eyes of the wind;

a well-worn junkyard maze of muscle memory

guiding her through the circling buzzards,

each fleeting hazard briefly elucidated

then returned to the darkness,

 

Briefly elucidated,

then returned to the darkness.

 

2.

Moonglow shimmers,

yanking on the spindly strings of her heart.

 

Like the well-worn pages of a beloved paperback,

her beauty, too, is built in stepwise fashion:

by letter, word, phrase, and sentence,

the unfathomable and intriguing result

being a waterfall of elegant inevitability

that splashes like a conjurer’s trick across the stage.

 

Left foot,

right foot,

rhythm dancing.

 

The galaxy churns,

as I await await the splendid embrace

of your smile in a pitch black room.

 

The rain blankets the Earth,

as I cozily sit like my legs were made of springtime,

knowing the wildflowers of sentience shall stream over the landscape

in a riot of introspection and thunderous rumination.

 

3.

You exist,

and you are multidimensional.

 

Everything I create

is in your honor.

 

Cultivate awareness

and move toward wholeness,

I counsel myself.

 

Yet it is always without forgetting

what the shape of your hand in mine will be,

how it will feel to explore the boundaries

of mere molecules, bodies and minds united.

 

Goodnight,

my dear.

 

Tonight,

we journey onward.

 

 


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