A Spread of Darkness Across Her Lips

When Mary, came to nurse,
A tree, by the lake,
I saw, with feeble eyes, and feeble heart,
A darkness, across lips, to kiss.
And she struck me, with a gaze!
Made me forget, my woes.
I danced akin, to the harlot’s motion,
When beauty, nestles only on black.

What had dominated white?
It was black, that dominated white.
It was the universe, that shrouded the moon.
It was the universe, that shrouded the sun.
Bombarded my guilt, to deadness.
And I grieved, no more.

Oh, Mary. By the well, where you dwelled,
Made to suffer, made for hell.
Your absence, was the darkness, of me,
As I turned, in Christ’s direction, to plea.
A sickness, reveled in me,
Drunken on curses, that sickened thee.
Mary with pleasures, thwarted,
Mary with children, bloodied,
Mary with jewels, become rotted,
Mary with misery, remembered.

The Music of Memory

Winter drained itself, upon my knees,
In holding the cross, to your grave.
I saw, with feeble stare,
The stars, upon your eyes.

They that saw, the infinity, in our love,
And knew, it to be a lie.

I would only fight, to see tomorrow,
And now, I cradle death, in transparent arms.
In a moment, that knows, how to weep,
I sing a song, to grieve.

Blessings told by priests, and their hymns, of loudness,
As if to awaken, the dead, from their slumber.
I drew white, around white,
A sheet, about a body,
While a rose, stood atop, your crown,
A nest, of tresses, shows the hue, of ice.

A tear falls, from my cheek, to my chin,
I left it there, for my kin to see,
And for my kin, to salvage.

Petals Laid in Tears

You mourned, the frozen wastes,
With tranquil beliefs, that shaped worlds,
I knew, the ending, to your plight,
But saw, only my life, in twists.

There is beauty, in every love,
With statues, cast from marble,
Risen, towards the emerald,
In forests, of secret safety.

With the illusion, that dips a leaf,
Adorned with petals, and thorns,
Into the silk, of a woman’s breast,
I find the essences, of worship…

…and those, that destroy,
Shall break, the evening tide.

With glances, of blue,
Skin, of ivory,
You shall wear, a crown,
Dressed, in simplicity.

There were moments, that were holy,
The meager silence, that sought,
To poison, the fruit above us,
Rained discolored wine, instead.

The joys, that lovers, hold dear,
Are naught, but ashes and snow.
Soft, with blessings, of sadness,
Departure, for the listless.

If I wished, for the nothing,
My love, shall grow, anew.

The Naked Viewing

What would I name, my empire,
Where this David, flies to fire?
To be handsome, or to be cruel,
You’d tease also, of love’s kind rule.

In ample markings, I observe,
The simple art, of highest curves.
What wickedness! In breasts.
Wine for lips, in bitter taste.
Allow, of the listless rest.
In one finger’s, lawful haste.

When noticing, the toes below,
To walk, in untold steps, so slow.
I am allowed, to fill my glass,
By all which flows, into thy mass.

Violet skin, when blushing bright.
Take all to sin, in desperate flight.
Send the priests, fleeing,
All full in hands, to the night.

When thy belly, of palest moon,
Is sweet in seed, in dismal bloom,
There shall come, to lovely sweat,
A shell of love’s, beauty kept.

In contours, I count, each falling tress,
To meager face, of sheer failing youth,
Uncover, each bit, of nestling skin,
In hearing shame, from weary red mouth.

To grip, the waist, of thy body,
Shall be there, for my possession,
To the deep place, of my pity,
Had we sold, our cries to ashes.

The Stable Grace

The sensible grief,
That turned upon a leaf,
Never clung to the tree,
For the world to see.

Your lonely heart, departs,
From the soul, of me.

I saw, the mark on your face,
Revealing sadness, in place.

I view, the sights you saw,
Of every, meager flaw.

Here, the moon raises, to a peak,
To draw the curves, of your form.
I was right, when I asked,
“When, will I become forlorn?”

Your dress, of rich blues,
Blooms my soul, brand new.
The Earth, knew,
How love, grew.

The empty, slender form,
Of which I, hold dearly,
‘Twas death, that parted love,
From my gray heart, freely.