Ignorance,
Not the bliss
Without the kiss,
Without the petals
Of sweet, grateful red
Against the mouth of the one
Who told you
To enter.
What want,
What capturing decadence,
What life,
As what a love
That broke through a storm
To create a vow
That would always grow
The face,
From the clouds.
I will love
Until the final shred
Of sunlight, leaves this earth.
Even then,
I will love on
With your spirit to smooth
My waters,
As I will bleed
From a humble heart.
Can we forget,
Can we displace
Ourselves from the in-between,
As we burn on
With iron in our bloodstream?
Our love,
As eyes are upon the skies,
Stealing stars
For the existence of the moon,
Loyally
Coveting the dark.
Holding on,
With sunlight never too stale
For us to make pale,
With our fingers staining the afterlife
Of our conscious desires.
Your face
Beaming in the twilight,
Burning of lips,
Emblazoned of auras,
Sunset in the dusk,
Loving in the hush.
Of dark, that petals the night
With tears
That cloak our years,
Sealing fate in a state
That we will have ourselves
Mourning overboard
With anchor, to let us loose
With deepest kisses.
How cometh the rain
When all falls down in pain,
When the rapids swarm knees,
During the wash of old tears?
Blood runs,
Though nothing bleeds,
Hearts hurt,
While everything kneels
Among this blackish terrain.
Within our eyes,
Where storms are our companions,
Love reigns,
As the heart rains.
A great mixture
Of grief and disbelief,
A potency
Of sorrow and the denial
That we are here.
Give me rain,
As you might
Bring across your stain
Of faces, that tremble in sight
Of memorials, unforgotten.
Of gardens, basked
In the dewdrops of old tears,
In the great weather
Of winter’s old fears,
While snow rides down
Comfortably into our arms.
You are,
As we will
Always grow
In sight of both clarity
And devastation.
Bent beneath
The sadness that descends me,
From altars, of disbelief.
She rains,
Still wets the earth of my heart
With her song.
Her life,
With the breath taken away
From the face,
Yet not the lips.
Beauty keeps itself, there
Without so much as a stare.
Her eyes,
Closed, with the peace
Against my grief,
Though wielding the same calm
As when we kissed,
Within ungracious life.
A casket,
A life
Nestled in this posture,
Wandering elsewhere,
Though in my heart.
Kisses red,
Sadness blue,
Rain shall fall
As roses will bloom
To smother the ocean’s shores
In crisp sweetness.
No breath from the lips,
No sigh of pleasure
To dance with the familiar song
Erupting to the sky.
Drifting into the eons,
Drafted as the sketch
Upon the clouds,
While you look up
To see the raindrops falling
From their hollow birth
Of empty heavens.
In arms,
We hold the other,
Believing sadness can burn itself
In the wind,
Loving still with miles between us,
Shattering ourselves
In porcelain reflections,
Leaving ourselves
Upon empty highways.
Onwards, with tremor
To the ends of our fingers.
As if candleflame could light up our eyes
In this dimming circus of misfortune.
Drifting into each other,
Holding the other
In arms made of glass.
Conflict stirs the heart,
As the mind draws the curtain
About where tears drop, freely.
Blood flows past
The distant starlight,
As dreams mind themselves,
Beneath the moon.
We love,
We fall, from above.
We shield
As still-life, of no reason to yield.
Bleeding on towards
The feathery horizon,
Holding a note in yearning hands,
Curling toes against damp sands.
Why must the sealing
Of two hearts, in distant scenery
Come reeling?
Why must
With eyes that never wait
Without the stammering heartbeat,
Our voice choke upon the wind?
Why must the vows
Threaten to come plummeting
With the pressure in the blood,
With the fault
In the earth’s tremors
And the ocean’s flood?
Our imperfect,
Senseless
Cries to add droplets
To an already-filled ocean,
Comprehends weight,
Sees our state
Crumpled in the breeze,
Solid in the release
As a rock dropped in a puddle,
As a form that fell.
Of eyes, admired,
For a sun, desired
Upon its warmth, in the bitterness.
Loving with eyes,
Never smiles.
How great,
For how subtle
To never lose you
In the wild rain,
Within the washed-up grain,
Stealing a sign
All over again.
A ghost in the doorway
To look upon you,
As I falter
In this place,
In the afterlife.
Here, the heart screams
With the churning of iron
In my cold bloodstream.
Falling apart,
In the wind.
A look upon your lips,
A scar to where I kissed
Your pain into the night.
Your hands stretched out
To conceal your heart
With the moon,
Inside the bloom,
Of many moments, in bare witness
Of those idle kisses we gave,
In many dropped anchors
For the lives never truly saved.
All to grieve,
Among all to believe
That love’s truest design
Holds out all
To be mine,
Upon the road where the wind
Carries both sigh and kiss.
Upon the air, above the road,
Carting on the bliss
Through the stagnant storm,
Singing on
Without being torn
By the stretch of decay
Beneath these feet.
Much has fallen,
Much else has lowered
In its feverish collapse
To ruined petals,
Rancid graveyards.
More more to raise,
Among all else to leave,
While faces come together
For the greatest stir
In a desolate lifetime.
Catching grace,
Disregarding space,
Silencing words
Where need no more.
His comfort,
A dying collection of senses.
His fire,
Hidden behind his eyes.
His words,
Poorer than those decked in rags.
Torn, though immaculate,
As if Heaven met ruin.
Wandering
Towards Love’s holiest empire,
Wanting an ear
To listen to what has become
Of a man, in his fear.
His sadness is a requisite
To Justice, in its depleted definition.
His tears, to fall
Upon his lap,
Show no puddles for the reflection,
No place for the recollection.
Meandering
Towards Destruction’s descended house,
With a face full of many years
To never forgive this,
As the pain draws near.
Loose pebbles
Scattered by the ocean,
Wasted in the scenery
That bleeds on, for no reason,
That streams on, without season,
Wilting in the lack of fortune
To a soul of misfortune.
He trips
Upon the short line,
Skips heartbeats
Trapped at the borderline,
Holds a straw
For the familiar sting
That his chance to sow newness
Will never be brought,
Shall not sing.
A wilderness,
One shining eclipse,
A part of a moment to enter
The sun,
When the moon is grown,
When tears are shown.
A part of a moment,
Highlight upon the heart,
Of love that sears.
Small moment,
First sigh
Breathing out the night,
To forsake the day.
Gesture of nothing
To silence the mind
Of thoughts that unwind,
In the heat of everything.
Caught
At the borderline,
Prevented
From moving forward,
Jailed in a heart
Where the ribs are the music,
The chimes
To remind him
Of what cannot part.
God triumphed
Upon the return
Of His fortune,
Radiant in embellishment,
Curious for His way
For which He may
Open her.
Treasure of boundless extravagance,
With little care in the tear
Of folds, for the earth.
God, whose sin was great
Revealed flesh,
Too stagnant in weight.
The He who leapt,
The me who wept
A rainstorm to decorate the lies
With the forty nights,
Without sunrise.
Persistence
Of savagery
Bled out for me
In the oldest sort of sickness,
With no reflection in the currents
To bare witness.
Undead form
To her forgotten limbs.
A tree for the hanging of fruit
That never ripens.
This dead world of hers
Beholds the cries, in disbelief,
Under the hot waters
Of their grief.
Lovelorn in the scorn,
Idle upon the mile
She was stretched on the shore
For God’s kiss, no more.
Describe you
In simple ways,
I cannot.
Enamored
By engrossing details –
A shoreline curve to a hip,
Pebbled beach
To make both eyes and breasts,
Fingers, like candles
Burn garments
To the ashen floor.
Watchful
Of subtle hints,
Bared auras,
Scenery to taste,
Loins to waste
In the grave intoxication
In the entrance, of womanhood.
Lifted sights,
Disassembled breaths,
A face that does not surrender
To the lifetime of age.
Hair that sets itself alight
To be the reflection
For a man, in his moment of fright,
While beauty was,
As beauty is
The storm that never dies down
In the moment where grace
Holds a heartbeat,
For its sound.
Modern Romanticism 