092904
And within this moment
of double edged pain
I greet my fate
with humorous disdain
as well the blade
has pierced my heart
too much time has passed
and I will soon depart
upon this journey
without an end
with a constant worry
of whom to send
unto this wild and wicked world
that greets us all
to smother us within its fold
as cynicism reveals
delight and disdain
soon to be a glorious paradox
fly to the heavens
though heaven's gate is locked
083003
And, at last,
The morning will
never cease
as I have fallen
into green death
relinquishing development
I have fallen
from the graces
of god and man
as I feel the
crimson relief
the warmth of
blood in my mouth
tomorrow
will promise tears
as today will
bring my fears
to fruition
Cannot find
the strength
to continue
upon a line
of consternation
where my whimsy
shall not be
followed through
and any moment
will bring the
fantasy as it is with
truth
welcome noise
as my brain
is bereft of
silence, this
is the best
silence
that
I have ever known
070903
And beautiful eyes
are not always a matter of configuration
It is brilliance, light and beauty
that reflects from within
guided by spirit and soulful meaning
and what comes from your soul has meaning
and the heart portends that light will come forth
when the season of the heart has ended
concluded by any means, the feeling from behind
those eyes, that take the heart by storm
and lead to the breath of life,
entreating the tired and forlorn
to leave dreariness behind
and to regain their freedom
within those eyes
052403
It is forbidden to want you
a rusty hinge at the entrance
certainly a part of my own inadequacy
for timeliness is always the key
to the death of perdition
to the fear that is a part of me
greatly sullen and barely sad
to see such great beauty before me
and this part of my soul
which is truly detrimental to me
I am forbidden to want you
for the confines of my soul
yet I welcome the presence
if the truth must me told
051603 And taken
as the storm of light
draws upon the weight of every breath
to keep the darkness in its place
and that is where I shall dwell
the shadows, for moments that I should
avert my eyes from the light
buried deep, like the roots of trees
grounded in the darkness,
the calm of the night
as the progression of thought
leads to meandering through
the pathways of the mind
to this pathway through the forest
forever lost among the trees
their roots giving them strength
and I draw upon this in intense moments
for my own resolve
to rescue dreams from the light of day
where they dwell in the recesses of the mind
rooted well
within the sanctuary of sleep and restlessness
so shall memory falter to the light of day
given to the beating heart
bestowed by birth,
to never die
Dance of Passion 051303
Because of this, my dance of passion
is stilted and slow and deliberate
with words misplaced and thoughts ingested
my dance of passion falters to inspiration
when dreaming takes the place of sensuality
and sensuality is left to ghostly images in my mind
the canvas’ that I smear with paint
hold images that are ghostly and divine
when living within a dance of passion
my daily ritual stems from this
this burning skin and beating heart
with images, strange and sensual
encircled by the wealth of experience
to draw upon a love of life and limb
within this daily ritual, my dance of passion
to regard my own expressiveness
as an integral part of my sanity
to touch an angel, an angel of flesh
that understands the flow of love
that comprehends the language of touch
and relishes a heated caress
under no duress, the beating hearts
and heated skin
the the demise of love and lust
for further study when I speak of touch
and express my heart
in a position suitable to the dance of passion
healing my heart, gentle to my eyes
I look upon this angel, her gentle touch
and my reciprocal, burning limbs
bring ecstacy to its final conclusion
but to never end, this dance of passion
030503
When in this stance
shy and in my mind
physicality matters not
so much the insistence that I am alone
placating the whim
where I should socialize
floundering in other’s streams of breath
for an instance to find some relevance
within conversation
tonight, the soul is smitten
with the dangerous conception
of dreams and passion,
all I have to share with the world
except of sarcasm, pain and misery
the inverse seems to be true, these days
as the streams of breath from my throat
become strewn with deadly cynicism
my mind is weeping within happiness
the reflex of my words
for the years that they were necessary
to bite and cause harm
and now I jest
with the warmth of an evil grin
tonight, the breadth of my words
will not see relevance,
as does my heart, as does my heart
030503
Clouded in lost judgement
under the sky
gone for the rest of life
ingesting
~ajos
