Poet

I bend and flow with the moods.

I am what is the moment.

Emotions that run around run

Into me and collide in to my

Being and force themselves in me.

I become them; they become me.

Subjected to muses of

Infinite kinds.

I ride the waves of oceans

The temperature of the air

Changes the colours of my heart

moody and unpredictable

like butterflies in the desert

Maybe I'm Not Stable, But

i never gave you our last kiss

it still sits upon my lips and weighs them down

so my mouth hangs open

catching the breaths of passing spirits

my throat becomes a vacuum for the devil’s voice

and i’ll spit it hot like lead, fire

a sparkling display of affection,

rejection and

revenge

you can wear my skin

but this kiss is mine

better than sex

here on my lips and i’ll suck

them back between my teeth

and chew them off

devil’s bile meets mine

this sweet kiss of ours

forever my own

to taste

I Bet You Taste Like Euphoria

A speechless tongue can only phrase out

the muted utterances of a blush spread so thoroughly

throughout my veins as I anticipate your taste

like the wayward dust anticipates rain.

From these lips that smile untouched,

I implore you to lean forward through molten glass,

leaving me with the passionate burnings of

euphoria on the tips of our poetic fingerprints

as they imprint the profusion of a love between you and I.

To the Unversed Cynic

Oh, bitter soul who looks askance at love,
eschewing heartfelt passion others feel,
you seem to deem love something you’re above;
but, you’ve just yet to harbor love that’s real.

Your penance shall be paid, and paid in spades,
when one day you may come to understand
such power, which no man might e’er evade,
as rests within love’s unspoken command.

Then you, who would not bow to spare your soul,
shall bow because you have no other choice;
for love, once felt, shall wrest away control
and, at its whim, you’ll weep or you’ll rejoice.

beautiful little sparrow

Ah, hello, aren’t you a beautiful little sparrow?
Perched within the apple tree by my window,
Autumn, you ask, she’s run away with Winter,
She left naked branches for the cold to splinter,
Under the weight of the snow come and gone,
Such things like seasons, never last that long,
See, little sparrow perched on my apple tree,
Lovers like our dear Autumn, know only of leaves,
Of goodbyes on doorsteps and cracked records,
They don’t believe in harmonies, just discords,
For you, I suggest you seek out warm Summer,
She likes sweet fruits, and hammocks in slumber,
If not, may Spring contain what you fly so high for,
Grass fields in blossom are sceneries love adores.
So, beautiful little sparrow perched in my apple tree,
Although Autumn has left us, there is still reason to be.

misaligned or malicious?

melancholies maddening malaise
pushed backed the start of my miserable morning
my mind a manic mess
making my mundane existence exacerbating
misaligned stars or malicious deity
seemingly making mischief
of my emotional maladroitness