Poem – “The Love Consumed from a Wine Glass” – Romantic

Tipped into thy divine mouth,
Like Heaven draining through an hourglass,
Of thy heavenly form, with no crudeness
At all, to the beauty of serpents.

I am in love with a sin,
To make love with the surge of emotion,
To make love with a woman of my nightmare,
Of all pain, and her studious gaze,
Here is me, to count the steps.
The disdain
To which I describe the form,
Measures my worth,
Like numerous trails that leak
Emptiness from my mind:

You are about as beautiful as the next
Monarch to be placed on a throne,
To me, as wonderful as the throne
Carved into it, with stones of red and green.
Your form is exquisite and serpentine,
A curve, alike to the serpent,
When upon golden sands,
When upon the shielded waters.

You are about as beautiful,
As the woman to which I take into the next,
The next room, where there is not you.
Infidelity is my crossing.
I dine now on the next,
My comparison is everything.
I draw on your flesh the word “deception”
And the word “shame”.

Oh, devil, take me down,
To where you will see yourself,
And your fields of ruin,
I see you, and I see the next,
Woman of my nightmares.
Is a love so entwined with virtue or sin,
As this? In my place beside thee,
Have I come to enter a new room?

My God, as the one who forsakes,
My tempest, and my wants,
I place you among all things,
To watch, to espy, to find salvation in the many.
My death is my certainty.

Poem – “The Sweetness, Unresolved” – Romance

Your dreary web of shades,
Falls into my place,
From the world’s hidden face,
As we stand beside a banquet and its host,
Placing each memory to our shoulders,
Hoisting its intolerable presence.

Oh, beauty.
With thy lavender scent,
From attire born to beckon.
You have a harmony to your voice,
And a grace to thy shoulders,
A tempting look,
In two orbs, of two eyes.
How wonderful you’ve grown,
In the thickets,
In the thorns, in the briar,
In the mire, when thou has been,
Nothing but blood.

Oh, have you come to see,
The community of flesh and phantom?

Oh, have you come to yearn,
For the petulance of children, and their moans?

Where we hail from,
In the void, and in the snow,
In the golden glow of a winter sunset,
In the silence of a winter’s morning,
We will dine,
On fruits and violet petals.
Death deals a merciful blow,
To our craving hearts.

My beauty with your feverish stare,
And thy wicked tongue.
Unfold your tresses for my unfurled lips,
And make a mockery of thyself,
Make one of golden roofs, and ornate gowns,
Of pleasant balls and moonlight glares,
From a moon so tolerant,
It would leave us aware.

“In Love with the Personal” – Poem – Romantic

Here, I shake to know,
The dreariness in thou.
Why are there those who doubt?
Why are there those who say against?
Are we not to be?
Is there love at all between us?
I question it, for doubt has strung
My torment up, for the world to see
The darkness of us.

My dearest one,
You have a face like milk,
And a nose, molded upon a face
Like the wax from a candle.
And when you weep,
I see the candle flame melting it down.
Your face holds a fire,
That strikes my heart to bleed.
Have I held you up in my strength?

My withered strength,
My withered pride,
There is nothing more than you for me,
Not the kingdoms to which God has promised,
Nor the gold to which a king has ever promised,
There is only the comfort
To which we have promised ourselves,
By the hands that caress the bleeding wounds.
There should be no more mockery.

There should be none of what says rueful words,
When upon our shoulders,
When upon ourselves, entranced.
There should be none of that impending doubt
In formulation to our years in marriage,
In formulation to our years in each’s arms.

Like a scribe with a wishful note,
To translate into tears,
Tears of wax and tears of sweat,
As my toil is now your blood.

Introduction to a New Novel – “Title: My Waters for Her Fortress” – Romantic

Have we felt the urge to swim?

The both of us; in raging currents, have we forced ourselves out of line with a scenario? A dismay. A tragedy. A disorientating vision that has made promise after promise turn to failure. Why, my sweet Eveline, has all become disproportioned?

My pain runs in tides, in the hardest heartbeat that knocks against my chest cavity. I am in love, though I don’t know. I don’t know when the next torment shall begin.

A message to a cross, where I will become crucified; to die for the sins committed on my own, over the mistakes where you’ve played a part; I write this message so that it spells a certain word: Eveline. The word that digs a knife into my heart. I love you, and you have been loved, to the new moon and to its return to a darkness. Nothing else is mattering to this time, besides the extraordinary that shall come with us.

A petal I now place on this letter, this message, so that there is replaced upon it an aroma that reeks of sweetness. Alike to your breath, alike to your cheeks, alike to your skin, that shares a scent like an ocean breeze. I have become the one that will make you a crown, when my own is with thorns, and yours will be ivory and gold, and bluest sapphires and reddest rubies. Those who ever mock us, will meet death. Love has an arrow of abruptness, and I will pierce any who speak against our desires; to be one, when the world is apart.

Poem – “The Fallen House of God” – Romance

Here, we breathe, disaster,
With our voices, set on high,
As death, surrounds us,
And our might, has departed,
To a stranded shore.

I am in love, only with myself,
A blessing, that has made, me wishful,
A curse, that has made, me lonesome.
What have I, turned upon,
Where will I, turn upon,
Next, when dining upon, a victim?
Will I muse, and take turns, with another?

God has thrown, on my shoulders
A burden, of salvation,
And I rejected it.
Its weight, was too heavy.
Its sight, was too sinister.
Its mattering, too bright.
Its feel, too mustered.

With a curse, drawn backwards,
Into, the sin,
Into, my ravaged den,
Where I scream, over the sun,
I felt the need, to find truth.
Where have I, left it?
Back where, it belonged?

Where has this, selfish side, taken me?
If only to see through, a mirror,
And, to see,
Only myself?
It is the demon, that I hide,
And see, so well,
In eyes, where darkness, blinds the light.

Poem – “Your Dark Gaze Upon Our Destiny” – Personal Poem – Romance

Oh, dearest goddess, with goodness in thou!
You are my everything,
And all my supposed failures,
To dance upon your abdomen,
With how you flee at every second,
With how you are far,
With how you also dance with speed,
That matches my own.

I go down to feed on thy mesmerizing
Face of lips and eyes.
I am soon to see
The love that we’ve destined to be.
What have you become,
In my long arms?
My long arms, that keep you near,
And still, you are far.

Oh, beauty!
With all your current tragedies,
Have you seen the horizon?
Have you seen the future?
Have you seen where I mocked,
How we could perhaps never be?
I will dance for eternity,
For this love is for everything.

No death shall teach us to be nothing,
No misery shall ever be our company,
Hope surrounds us,
In every blessing.
Blessed by a magical divinity,
And never to hope for else.
In all what we’ve become,
There is nothing more to reveal.

You are the touch, the fiber, the serpent that I kiss,
A beauty and a flame, a desire and a shame.
I love thee, and you shall become mine,
In all my hours in toil, in all my days in grime.

Poem – “As I Tremble Before You” – Romantic

Your words are my focus,
Glowing, glistening, and romantic,
Each syllable gleams as the furthest moon,
Though, closest to raise the tide.
You are before an altar,
With my fingers laced in your silver.
And your beauty entrances me,
A virgin doused in white,
It’s all so agonizing.

It is, for you have accompanied
My deepest entrails,
And have poured a fear into me.
The one that knows you
By your ever gracious form,
Is there to feed on wine and grace,
Love and thorns, made into twine.
I love thee with all the pleasures
Made into stones.

I raise a glass to thy name,
Praising your features and your might,
The strength you’ve made for me,
The pride you’ve gifted upon me.
The great art of your neck,
Full and long, with pearls surround,
Is there for the deepest kiss,
And the longest stroke,
And your musical sigh to its taste.

What will thou become,
By my love to thy wish,
To be ever eternal on a heated throne,
When you shall become mine?
A beauty and a romance,
A marriage and an eternity,
A truly divine flame,
Will entrance us,
And leave us never wanting.

“Parted Lips” – Poem – Romantic

I fell upon thy parted lips,
And fled among their washed hue,
Never knew, never knew,
The placement of their kind,
That were drawn over a face of mine.
Your parted lips,
Are as my own.

A woman, and a man,
Your beauty, and my insanity,
We’ve both done wrong,
To fall apart, and to be anew.

I am in love only with water,
Because thou does not represent land,
No fertility and no newness.
Only I, as myself, am new.
New beside you, with two parted lips.

Horror Poem – “A Headless Woman” – Erotica

I failed to mention a tiny detail,
The space above your neck
Is lacking.
For proof, I needn’t describe it,
You could not look above,
To see it.
The space that is lacking,
Is only for my witness.

Beauty now resides only on your grace,
As your face, has resulted in the emptiness
No long mattered, no longer around.

Spill upon me the fluid to which belongs
Upon your bosom.
White fluid that would crawl on flesh
That is torn upon my torso.
Would you scream when giving birth?
Or would only silence follow?

Your face is disallowed to exist,
Your mind is no longer present,
Though, I see a body that beats a heart,
Myself moves to take its shape,
Swollen to that of my yearnings.
As thy lips are no longer present
For my kisses.

A disdain and a scent,
A scent of love and lust, gathered to one.
You were beautiful and knowing.
And now, you lack the recognition.
I see only a body
That appears as any other.

A body of devilish desires,
White as Christ’s own cloak,
And with pink lines to mark thy youth.
You were defeated by defeat,
And I have surpassed you.

“The Grove and Ivory Flesh” – Poem – Romantic

I saw beneath lashes, masked by shadow,
The beauty, of unfathomable lust,
She drew a finger, in my direction,
So that I’d lay, beneath ivory flesh.

Never was there, an emotion so exquisite!
As the one laid, upon my heart,
Enough, so that she cared, to comfort,
Its undying beat.

She drew across, three fingers, to her bosom,
So that three orbs, were revealed,
Two breasts,
And one heart.
For I saw among, her feeble form,
The drowning, of that heart,
Among, such melted ivory.

I forgave, the spite I had concealed,
In spite, of knowing, what had been revealed,
I drew a finger, to a breast,
One of them, for the other, she grasped.
I felt with turmoil, in mind,
The disease, to her fragrant hind.

Her bust, and her groin,
That which, laid upon, my own,
She felt loneliness, and grief combined,
And grew patient, all-the-more.

A beauty, and a pain,
That which, danced among mists
That shielded, a grove,
One that fled, in currents and doves,
One that shouted, to the moon,
“Do not, let me go,
Among the fires, and the ebony!”

And I disobeyed, her plea,
For it rang, too heavily.

A Tri-Collection of Poetry – “Poetry of Love, Love, and Love!”

Poem #1

A Marvelous Waiting Game

Of eye and iris, combined,
I combed the earth, to then find, those pair,
Dipped in honeydew, and nectar alike,
Stark against pallid skin, and reddened cheeks,
As thy making, were by God’s artisans.

Your eyes, and the cries, you emit,
By the graces, of angels,
By the disgrace, of my fallen empire,
By the dismay, to my withered pride,
You are still, the only love.

A beauty, with bleakness, to tress,
And red, to lips,
A beauty with eyes, that fall in the idleness, of waking,
A beauty with no equal, unmatched, by makers, of newness,
For the eyes, that I behold, are a waiting game.

I look upon them, with a face, so stern,
I look, with the entrancement,
The enticement, the amiable nature, of my mind,
To be pleasant, in sight of a one,
The nurtured one, the rose, in the garden.

You have never been, the disappointment,
And, I never faulted you, for any failure.

A beauty, with eyes that wait, as I wait,
For a death, that would make our love, finally resting.

Poem #2

The Dismay of Thy Gleaming Back

Upon a day, when the moon, rose to stay,
And look upon us, with fervent fervor,
I saw behind, that dress, that covered thou,
A white back, that gleamed, beneath the silver.

A tempting look, in your eye,
You had a back, that gleamed, beneath the silver,
With a coat of sheen, that grew to bloom
In the radiance, of an early afternoon.

The dress, that covered thou,
Is of lace, embroidered, in a streaming silk,
Each strand, is weaved to perfection,
To shield, a body for God.

Would you, open your mouth,
To receive, a tongue?
A tongue to lash, your swollen cheeks?
You are marvelous, when you would grieve.

You are as mighty, as all beauty
When thwarted, by sensuality.
It is because, I am
The blessing, of a simple fruit,
And the admirer, of resplendence.

A beauty, that you are,
With a sheen, to a back,
All white against, the dress, that is black,
And a face, that shows, rosy cheeks, alack,
For thou, hast turned from me!

A back, a back, and a back,
Your face, not ever known.

Poem #3

A Lover’s Wine and Nectar

Death divides, my purpose,
Love had made, it wine,
Your lilies, when worn, on crown, so high,
Drew to knew, the nectar, from, the sigh.
As when God, bent his knee,
Your loving God, had bent, his knee.
And I gave a ring, to thy finger,
So that thou, would accompany me.

You are not devilish, on my barren lands,
You, with your ivory face, and porcelain cheeks,
A heart of ruby, though wrapped, in thorns.

A quake hurls, my empathy across,
A child pules, to the breast, and its emptiness.
I gave my platter, for the servant, to witness,
A mighty feast, on thy lips, of cherry.

Your beauty, and your fossilized form,
Were many, in the hues and shades,
I still allowed, a treat to be consumed,
Of perked lips, and even raven tress.

Lovely, when thou, would accompany me,
On the serpentine roadway, to my dwelling,
For thy frailty, is next to loathing,
At the pity, and scorn, of my promise.

Poem – “The Failures of Children” – Romantic

They, who crawled, naked, in grief,
Were beside the forests, in failing sleep.
Sinister shadows, were their playmates,
Begging unto God, for piety’s absence.

I slew, their lives, in amass,
Emptied their reflections, in glass.
For she, who called me abroad,
To taste the banquet, of my dreams.

She was, to the sinister playthings,
A toy, to behold, for their musings.
I sold, a love, for a lonely hour,
Folded plenty, the songs of shame.

Her music, which lifted, my fire,
Drew blood, into my desire.
I gave up, the world, for the stars,
Knew the beginning, for the almighty end.

She waved, a gentle hand, to me near,
Caused the tears, to erupt, in unquiet fear.
I singled out the prey, one by one,
Not for God, but for Heaven’s wrath.

For a beauty, to be in my name,
Is to me, a release of shame.
I gave the clinging, to her undying folds,
Of a dress, where children, threw their tears.