In all I crave, I stand before shore and ship,
At the lash of some sailor and his whip.
At the command of God above, and pauper below,
I am here to make a home in the loneliness of a tide,
And there are memories in mind.
And, in my arms,
Where blood makes stains against my long-coat,
A woman pules and grieves newest after newest tear,
For an ending to what made her at a loss
For something I aimed to steal,
Though, had brought myself to take.
Virginity from womanhood, and I am not the thief in the night,
But, I am the man barren in his guilt.
There is blood upon a dagger, a wound in a woman,
And fewer than ever, places to perform my suicide.
There is this lonely ocean,
With tides against my ankles,
And, I want nothing more than to say farewell,
To all the world and its woes,
For I believe I’ve caused
Them all, and then some more.
My guilt is this ocean, and this ocean is my home,
Its tide, as well, my place to feel a belonging,
For distance, as well as certainty
To be calm, as well as afraid,
Of where to go, in my place among the waves.
I will live,
Though, how can I breathe?
How can I start a fire,
In this heart of mine,
Without the glance that brought me life?
How can I state any moment of happiness,
In the most genuine of words,
Without what is needed,
To keep me down?
What finger will be placed
Upon my blistered lips?
What pair of eyes will know
The cries emitted from this sentenced heart?
I will live,
And no longer know love.
And, how can I breathe,
Without the comfort of comfort
To truly lay me down?
Your stagnant aura, of many aromas,
Puts me beneath you, in a dying dedication,
For I’ve discovered it.
You deserve it,
You have earned it,
A caress upon a wild and entitled
Bosom that shows a gloss.
You were loved by many,
Until the one who will shower you,
With kiss upon kiss.
Allow me to bellow this melody
Upon your idle features,
As I describe what I’ve conquered:
“A lady of pain, who slept away to cry,
Has a herald of agony below herself,
A beauty with tresses like bark from a tree,
Shedding down to where I may see,
The entitled bosom that needs itself to be seen.”
Thrust aside those worn garments,
And offer me the breast for my wielding.
Capture these kisses upon each orb of flesh,
Marriage has caught us in its net,
Its place of pride and wine,
Within a Holy Grail.
I kiss, and I kiss, again,
An entitled bosom,
As your hands reach upward to remove the hair
From my eyes, stained from cries.
And I sigh, to bleed upon an ever-more
Golden ring and golden pride,
Bleeding for a face too adorned in lies.
Love all, when I call,
You, to the furthest cliffs,
And say, that you will stay,
To speak true words, of no dismay.
People seem, and also scream,
To force cues,
To force signs,
To places full of danger,
Will you be the one, to fulfill,
The only one, who has become still?
Your beauty is where I mark unknowns,
To a center I say is full of danger,
To places where kisses run rampant,
Upon walls and over edges.
You gracefully speak,
While I pitifully weep.
Music runs like magma from our throats,
Beneath the Earth where the dead still rot.
I am merely the man with loathsome keepsakes,
And futile memories,
That I always leave away
In a puddle of Bacchus.
You have beauty to which I reach for,
To see with the most open of eyes.
Though, it enters my arms with greatest pain,
And wallows there among my frozen corpse.
Maggots crawl, while sorrow walls,
Love swallows the coldest pill,
To quell aches from the sickness that quakes.
But, to me, there is nothing to see,
But the flavor of what I now know,
A place of emptiness to which I wait,
For my love to enter what I wish to sate.
Dawn on me,
Your shade of comfort,
In my place of great sorrow.
Among great pain,
Has left me open,
To the option, of having you near.
And you are what is called,
A great love, has left its mark,
Upon a heart, fleeing in dark.
A notion I’ve made clear,
Under stars so bright and cruel,
That I’ve seen plains full of flame,
And cities full of shame.
I’ve seen what I cannot clear,
From my mind nested in weathered tear,
Brought down upon frigid knees.
My love is a great castle,
Of knights and bishops combined.
Upon when I kiss
Your divine and splendid shoulder,
That beams from heat I know not where,
I see two faces and two eyes,
Merrily meeting without any disguise.
There is no deceit among us, in this feat,
Nothing wrong among us in our great heat.
A wilderness around us,
Mournful trees about us,
One brighter than the other,
Of yours and mine.
I see from your divine shoulder,
A mark that I’ve left.
Is it a love you’ll say to be a surety?
Your kind face sends a path for my awakening,
I slept a breathless sleep.
You have the world before yourself,
And I have seen it, in my worst fears.
You have a face, full of light,
And I have two eyes, full of fright.
What is worse, my lady in distress?
The place I’ve made vacant next to you,
Or the place I’ve made vacant in my heart?
There’s my devotion, crawling atop sea and sand.
Love is a great kindness,
Or so I thought.
Palaces were those grand structures,
Of so much wealth.
Those beneath the whip of poverty
Were under the whip of envy.
They viewed before them,
What they’d not raise themselves to possess.
And, when I see you before me,
I see myself having once lost,
And then having discovered,
The grandest of lost treasures.
My ire spurs reigns atop a carriage made of metal,
A fire burns and stains, this heart with crudest petals.
I believe in a love without its pain,
But it is only my delusion.
I wished upon a time,
To breathe fragrances without the stench of death,
To view cheeks of red without the touch of humiliation,
Though, I’ve become my own illusion.
Love is a famous thing,
My bird, my devil.
You have sprouted wings for myself to see,
Hoping for this face of mine to utter some sound,
That will ignite the world around.
Our garden of decay,
Is where we share these notes of love,
Alike our merry Heaven with a house of stone,
Falling to our feet, from above.
I will hope to meet you, in coming time,
Kiss you, beneath tree and star, combined,
Blessed beauty, you have been made mine,
Structured in a well of empathy,
Screams and sighs, we allow for each other,
For kisses and holiest rhymes,
To bleed upon another.
Destitute, we once were,
As children of a demonic world.
And we are now the crudest things,
Beneath wreaths of love, and greatest imaginings.
Once, we were brethren of faraway hopes,
And we kissed beyond a sea,
We suffered torments without vows,
We are lovers in swollen hearts.
Beloved, to describe what is before me,
Would perhaps offer me,
What to me, craves the plenty –
The multiple aspects to your beauty.
And as I sit before you, and before my gaze,
Towards your marvelous captivity,
You show to moon and star,
A gaze full of idle awakening
To what thumps a rhythm in your golden heart,
Broken away, are those fragments you’ve held dear,
Held close, now, are traces of incredible fear.
Where will you wander under these many streams,
Of tulip petals and bluish tears
That swim a current down to your wronged heart?
We’ve grieved a number of times,
Enough to starve ourselves of woes and goodbyes,
Enough so that we’ll yearn to stay in arms and sighs,
With faces marred by tears and excessive pleas
Upon that which humanity has come to see,
A love of our own, open and wide.
I am in love with a certain misfortune,
The uncertainty to which strips my manhood
From its place above my brow.
In a mind, I’d call my kind,
Were it not for the fear I always find
To be present upon trembling extremities.
I kiss your lips, unevenly,
With a reflective sheen upon each one.
And I break the place that opened a gap,
So that sighs of those depressive nature,
Are no longer here,
And are most likely dead.
God-given love is what I’ve had,
Upon me and over me,
Grown within me, and around me,
As vines and entrails emit a glow,
Through myself, over myself,
Into myself, and around myself.
I’ll kiss your lips, fervently,
With a place beneath your brow,
Upon those beaming eyes of many years,
Upon those lips,
I’ll nest a new joy into them,
With one solid kiss upon them.
Your spirit resides in turbulence,
But, a moth rests itself atop your temple,
A grave sits before you, idle and waiting.
There’s a place in Heaven, for you,
Near the place Christ left, for you.
There’s evil that runs so free,
Seemingly freer than love, itself.
Why do you find yourself in comfort,
During when your son has shown sides to him,
That only you could ever know?
Though, you show faces twisted and scorning,
During when your son has shown a world for himself.
I matter for your approval,
Father has died,
A world has been separated
Alike sprinkles of color
Atop a cake of black and white,
And I require the remembrance,
Death seems to soak itself,
As I am a pessimist,
That, is where death drowns itself,
In my mind you seem to dub to be wretched.
A life, in love with a woman,
And you disapprove.
You desire comfort, nestle yourself near comfort?
Is it all you crave?
What way is there to send you
To places that are not of comfort,
But are going to spill tragedy’s mark upon
Your delicate forehead?
Mother, your son
Has found enough, from you,
And for you.
And, he has found for himself,
A place in a woman’s heart,
Though, you’ll continue
To show a starving face,
In the wrong direction.
Your eyes sparkle youth into being,
But, what strength,
And, what weakness,
I behold, in this feeling!
Without description, all that remains
Is pure and undeserved pain,
Stemming from life that built itself,
Upon immoral and unneeded strife.
I name all pleasure as our fortune,
No home could be ever-more welcoming
As your heart.
The fire within the multitude
Of burning hearths
Do not scold me, as my life did.
They merely burn away
All residue of decay.
That brings me to tears,
Makes me wonder about you,
And those eyes;
For they are eyes made to show,
And to be lost,
And for flame to guide the way.
Do not scorn me,
For I am merely a man,
Who cannot understand
What had bound me to the soil for eternity.
I had life weighing heavily,
Do not scorn me,
A man, who only understands,
That something bad has been erased.
I see thee, upon a land so muddy, in the blood of sorrow,
You’ve never, held onto happiness, for long.
Here, I yearn, to be the one,
To cradle your defeat, in longest arms, and trembling fingers,
I fathom your emptiness, a lot like
The families of sickness, in nations heavy, on poverty.
We’ll not fall, with the tears, that come descending, a lot like
The few raindrops, that fall from clouds, also heavy
Like our hearts, that held, onto suffering.
We were never, envious of others, but found comfort
In our endless love, promised upon, one another.
Beauty is a place,
Not held in eyes,
But held in stars, too infinite to count,
And too infinite to identify.
I am in love, firmly in love, with a one I simply chose.
It was just upon, a single night,
That my eyes, seemed to wander,
Beneath the haze, of winter twilight.