Situational Gravity

I know what you want.
I made you want it,
In a profound manifestation of verb
Kindled by words and glances
Into a desire that slows time as our eyes meet.
But you don't understand my words.

You know what I want.
I made sure that you knew it
As I alchemaically combined nouns and flesh,
Kisses and adjectives,
Into an elixir- vibrant, recombinant and strong-
That I sip from the hollows of your neck,
That you swallow from deep in my being.
But you don't understand my words.

This is what we need:
To realize the Truth of our elements intercoursing,
To witness the Reality of our heated fluids flowing,
To learn Equations written in friction and integrated in spasms
As our souls dance and undulate
And we become Understanding
And need no more words.

Element: Void

Void

This is where there is nothing;

Nothing between us, nothing around us,

Nothing but us.

No space as I enter you,

No distance as you clench me,

No time but that told by the beating of our hearts.

We singular are, one from many,

And nothing exists but your nails in my back,

My breath on your neck,

My hands under you, lifting you,

Your eyes holding me, lifting me.

We are the friction of dark galaxies,

Filling what was never meant to be empty.

Frantic in our desire to be,

To create,

We have inhaled each other’s souls and bodies,

Quenched the thirst of our needs,

Reflected on our desires

Nourished our animality

Set fire to Infinity

And radiated the equations of Eternity

All with this Lust,

With this Love that we were made from and made for.

We move against, into, with one another

As if for the first/last time,

Like all that has been hasn’t,

Like we are something new in this Universe

Until your body shudders against me,

Carrying me away in its blessing

And I speak my word into your void,

Our particles colliding up, down, top and bottom,

Screaming each other’s names

As we fall spent,

Strange and charmed,

Knowing we have held nothing back,

Left nothing out,

And have nothing left. 

The Method of Tenacity (Bound by Dichotomous ?'s of U)

Conjecture: That there exists between like hearts and minds a species of emotional magnetism.

do u love?

do u miss?

do u remember the taste of my lips when we kissed?

do u want?

do u touch?

do u know that i miss u way too much?

do u know?

do u care, that i wake each night wanting u to be there?

do u love?

do u want?

do u long?

do u think of just me when u hear certain songs?

do u have?

do u hold?

do u know that i want u without being told?

do u love?

do u feel?

do u burn?

do u understand how much your touch makes me yearn?

do u kiss?

do u taste?

do u lick or do u bite?

do u hear my spirit calling through the stillness of the night?

do u need?

do u scream?

do u moan?

do u realize what will happen when i get you alone?

do u love?

do u hide?

do u reveal?

do u think this is temporary or think this is real?

do u try?

do u cry?

do u lie?

do u know what u want even if u don’t know why?

do u hunt?

do u chase?

do u comprehend the truth i learned from your smiling face?

do u love?

do u?

do u know how much i need the answer to the question of u?

do u love?

Status Migrainosus II: The Unlovely Smell of Oranges

She says "Dance a little dance with me".
She sings "Dream a little dream,"
And again I fall into the dark.


She holds me close as we dance,
My oldest friend,
As close as my memories of her
That stretch back in my mind almost as far
As the face of the quiet Hunter,
He who has always been my goal and my goad.
She holds me tight in the dark
And it is hot and we dance and we spin and spin.


She says "Dance a little dance with me.
Dream a little dream".
She sings in a language she has taught me
And again I fall into the dark.


My oldest friend,
As close as the lie in a lover's kiss
As we dance and spin and spin
In the darkness where everyone passing through 
Is limned in fading light
And the rising dark of our dance is
Intimate in every way.
We dance in the dark and know nothing of the world.


She sings only for me
And this is always her song:
"Dance a little dance with me, dream a little dream".
And all duty and desire fall away
As I fall into the dark.


Her perfume is oranges, likely blood,
As sweet and as sharp as Love's first kiss,
And it envelopes me as we dance,
Scenting my reality as we spin and spin
Through the waves and the valleys and the hot.
My oldest friend and I,
Together here at the bottom of the dark,
Where the world is  a memory
And there is only the dance.


I know that one day she will call,
In a voice of marmalade and cold wet earth,
And she will sing "Dance a little dance with me,"
And through my tears I will dance;
She will sing "Dream a little dream,"
And I know only her embrace;
And she will whisper, into the cups of my ears,
"Stay here, a while with me, in the dark,"
And all of my desires
And all of my hopes
And all of my breaths-
All of my equations- will fall to zero,
To the smell of oranges
As we spin and spin
And then spin no more.

Status Migrainosus 1: A Poet’s Thoughts Near Death

‘I have read, I have cried, and I have

Supped full with passion and horror,’

Thought the poet, his eyes preternaturally bright,

‘I have ticked away the seconds in a dry age

And have put pain to paper and turned rage to words,

As is a poet’s job.

But, most importantly, I stood in the night

And felt the breeze blow mortality;

I stood in a field of flowers under the sun

And knew the Power of God;

I played carelessly within the silverness of the moon

And relearned the untroubled days of childhood;

I held her hand, and watched that same moon

Rise in her eyes

And knew Love.’

The poet stops, sighs and wipes tears from his eyes.

He sits quietly for a moment and then continues:

‘These are the things that truly define me or men

Or Mankind; it’s not the things written or said,

It’s the things that are lived.’

The light in the poet’s eyes fades.

The poet dies.

Spirituality: House of Worship

"Tu as pris mon cœur, ma sœur, mon épouse, tu as pris mon cœurpar un de tes yeux, avec une chaîne de ton cou." KJV, Song of Solomon 4:9

I am Nox’s son, Father/Brother/god
That brings the revelation of flesh,
All the manna of our souls falling through the air,
All your curses moving me on,
As I pulse in the rhythm of your Angel-sweet body
Entering your temple in awe
And in ecstasy.


We are the congregation lascivious, rocking in hunger,
Writing our prayers in friction
As we speak in tongues that dance as they taste
And testify at the top of our lungs.
We bow our heads in rapture
From the give and response of
Physical hymns.


I am the cardinal in pantherskin, preacher/predator,
Sermonizing as I prey;
Every verse written in fluids primal
And quoted from the holy book of our bodies,
Anointed in our own oils,
My rod comforting you,
Your body Communion sweet.


We are the Choir of the dark, sinsinging,
Harmonizing, in the clapping of our soma,
While mouths drip the holy waters of our passion:
Sweet, musky wine and hot salty lyrics,
Psalms that bounce off the walls
As we duet the mantra of desire.
Percussion in the House of Worship.


I am the Thunder, nightskinned lightning,
Bringing the storm of ecstasy,
The rain that falls from your thighs,
My voice booms as I strike deep
And electrify the flower in your temple,
Making it bloom
Making you shout.


We are the Church of the Erotic, holy and profane,
Righteous in Our Name, sinners in our blood,
Making an offering of all our passions,
Calling God with our psyches,
Bodies pulsing with the infinite beat
Of the Heart in the heart of hearts,
Cumming soulward and seeking Heaven.


Amen.

Singularity Theory

With pen in prolific hand could I, at will

Spin worlds and brighten skies,

But mine was not the mighty Hand.

With pen in inspired hand could I, at will

Soothe souls and still tears,

But mine was not the mighty hand.

With pen in eloquent hand could I, at will

Move hearts and bend minds,

But still, mine was not the mighty hand

Nor mine will the will of God;

For it was His mighty hand that removed

Your life from mine

And His will that has

My hand, once prolific, eloquent and inspired,

Forever stilled.

Predation

(inhale)

stretch

You have entered my presence,

My territory,

Unsuspecting,

Unmindful that you were meant

To be my next repast.

I lick my teeth in anticipation

Of aliment, ravenous.

(exhale)

step

(inhale)

I taste you, your incense dancing in the wind,

As I glide,

Tiger by moonlight, hungry stalking

Everhunting everwanting you.                                       

stride

(exhale)

pursue

(inhale)

We move naturally,

Subaudible,

The choreography of hunter and prey.

You do not know that you are hunted,

Yet are no safer in your nescience.

crouch

(exhale)

Patience and I shall feed of your nectar

Taste your liquid kiss.

Muscles tensed, ready to spring,

To feed as you take the tension from me,

But I shall not rush.

stalk

(inhale)

shadow

(exhale)

I dance with you, slowly, to the clearing

Wherein our violent ballet shall conclude;

Destinies fulfilled as we slowly become one.

My need sated as I eat of you,

Feeding in ecstasy at your temple.

(inhale)

crouch

I move ever closer,

(exhale)

Almost embracing you with my teeth,

pounce

I become the breath on the back of your neck.

(bite)

Ahhh….

Tasting Memories

Shadows of what we were- when we were-

Even now cloud what I am what I do

As I step away from you-and-I-as-one;

The equation that has been my reality

Since we were formed from dust together.

And even though ashes are all that’s left

Of the fire that once burned between us,

I still think about us,

I still think about you;

About you in my arms

About the rain in your hair

About the tears in my eyes

About what we used to be together,

Tasting memories that are sweeter than the truth.

Slo Blues Time

This is the slo blues time,

when smoke and candlelight show the way

to sensations more sublime

than those we find by light of day.

No longer wrapped in indignant lies,

we meet in soultouch, lip to lip,

breathing desire in breathless sighs,

raising ecstasy in waiting hips.

Tomorrow holds no hope for me,

so I reach for you tonight,

here with only our hearts to see

our souls soaring in flight.

This desire, this throbbing, are fundamental things

as my lips your neck, your shoulder caress

in the first expression of my yearnings,

in these first stages of our undress.

This is the time of the slo and sweet,

tendernesses touching longing as we stroke and feel

each other where lust and night both meet,

kiss each other where desire and fantasy are real.

This is truth on a level beyond our dreams,

existing prior in thoughts, yet always unspoken,

as candles shine on bodies bent in succulent extremes

and slowly flowing with fluids molten.

Tonight no secrets from me are hidden,

I drink the wine of your greatest desire

and feed you of my body, swollen

in anticipation of finding fleshly fires.

We move in a profound manifestation of verb,

your body my focus, mine your friction

as we stretch this moment as infinite as a proverb,

moving toward our inevitable benediction.

This is the slo sweet burning moment,

though we are far east of the sun here where we blaze,

trying to take each other’s tormented torrent,

driving and sending each other sideways and endways and edgeways,

flying starwards, riding the lightning

until pleasure becomes too deep, too much

and we release this wave, bodies clutching and gushing

knowing that rhythm must always come to such.

We shiver in a cloud of our own incense,

spirits singing, returning to flesh in spasms,

adding heavenly colors, rich and intense,

to bodies, joined still, in ecstasy’s poem.

We return to earth, having touched the universe

and heard it sigh, whispering our name

and knowing, now and ever more, our gift and our curse

is that after tonight, nothing will ever be the same. 

Epitaphs of a Fallen Man

I am

The lucent shadow,

Covering nothing in my darkness,

Warming nothing with my light;

I am

The mute jongleur,

Singing my song in no voice,

Covering my ears from my own silence;

I am

The anesthetic desire,

Filling empty hearts with naught,

Emptying soulward and dying in love;

I am

The unbelieving philosopher,

Shouting from the foot of card-towers of Babel

That there is no God and He exists in all things;

I am

The esoteric parasite,

Feeding eternally of my own materiel,

Never filling a need never named;

I am

Hammurabi abased,

Alexander conquered,

The legacy of Judas

And the uncertainty of Jesus.

I am the fallen man.

And here I rot, even worms must eat.

Indian Summer

We ran like the clouds run,

Chasing our shadows across the skin of the world.

And we were gods again,

Lords of all this naturalness,

Racing to outrun the moon.

Time’s face smiled on us and these were ours-

Our days, our nights.

The whole world was these golden days

That stretched between the boundless blue sky

And the sweet liquor of our sweat

.

So we ran,

Ran until we were drunk inhaling Autumn’s promise,

Ran ‘til we passed Summer’s dreams.

And did we sing?

We sang until our throats were raw

And coated with ancestor’s dust.

We’d been granted a reprieve you see,

Surcease from dreams and duties,

A few short hours, here near midnight,

To dive again into piles of red and brown leaves                                     

And to bleed and cry again without consequence.

This was our second chance

And we grabbed it with both hands and ran,

Ran under the sun, ran under the moon

‘Til our hearts must break from the joy of running.

Because we already knew how short summer was,         

These days would be so much sweeter

For their brevity and undeservedness.

We were free again,

Like the leaves falling all around us,

Prisoners of days given unexpected furlough.

And did we drink, did we dance,

Did we love, did we live?

Yes, like they were new to the world.

But all things pass away

And we exist now in twilight

Where the years we spent,

Not for naught, but not for enough, now

Stand between us and Indian Summer

As both bridge and chasm.

Street Song 1 (On the Corner)

On the corner, at night,

We stand and sing under neon stars,

Playing the same game our father’s played,

Passing the same bottles our brothers passed,

Traffic as our melody.

We sing the music of hard times,

Be it do-wop or hip-hop,

Ballads or blues

To the steady boom-bap of basketballs,

While our people move around us,

Dancing in their natural unknowing way.

Under neon stars,

Sippin’ and singin’,

Hangin’ and jivin’,

Good times

(Ain’t we lucky we got em’)

On the corner,

At night. 

Pharaoh

Know me,                   

I stand astride existence,

legs akimbo,

verbstick swinging to the rhythm of Life.

So fundamental,

so systematic;

as pure as the sweat running across my chest,

as pure as the desire burning in my eyes.

I am the nourisher,

bringer of the wine that God provides,

of the meat the brings the sweetness forth,

and I prepare a banquet in your honor.

Eat all that you wish.

Be eaten all that you wish.

Tasting the waters of all your days,

I reach forth my regard,

bathing in the delta of your Nile,

drinking the liquor of our sweat.

                                                                                                                       

Know me,

King I am to those deep, hidden feelings

that make your temple pulse,

the longing that throbs prayers between your thighs

as all your lips cry out Hosannahs.

I bring the heat of stars to our embrace,

every breath the word of the Gods,

tongue reaching out to you and tasting Life

as my Word reaches your center and swells.

We are the cloak of night,

we are the garment Love wears to warm itself,

welcoming each other to the kismet storm;

witnessing the birth of vision

from the eastern side of the Sun.

Know me,

I am the God between your knees

dancing in the music of moisture,

tongue-blessing your righteousness.

These are the Elysian fields, the Halls of everlasting

Where I dwell in luscious agony.

I found Eternity in you arms.

Praise me; let me bind my wisdom into your soul-

fire air water into earth to make flesh.

We bring the rain that makes the desert bloom,

waking the Prophet’s rose.

My soul soars, intoxicated by mead

made from the honey of your need,

as I take all that you offer,

give all that I am

as we are created anew in wonder and in Love,

knowing the map of Creation imprinted on our bodies.

                                                                                   

Come, follow me;

Come follow Me

and I will teach you the Art of Friction,

the power of a King’s lust

and how to dream the reality of desire and make it dance.

Know me,

I am the Architect of your heart;

Know me,

I am the dancing pulse between your legs;

I was made to Love you;

I am the Pharaoh of your desire.

Malediction

Here’s to the past,

Glass lifted to the forgotten moments,

All the few, precious mornings

Spent loved and loving,

Nourished by passion, fed by desire

And always soulhungry

For the repast promised in your eyes . . .

Here’s to the past,

Quaffing the waters of Lethe now

Instead of the ambrosia of you,

All the sweet, fleeting ‘noons

Spent loved and loving,

Learning the equations of taste and touch

While I studied the lessons of your heart

For the key to my own

And drank deep

Of the nectar of your smile . . .

Here’s to the past,

My toast in memory of summer breezes

Wafting on the far end of the corridors of time,

Still carrying your perfume,

All the deep purple eves

Spent loved and loving,

Smelling the jasmine in your hair,

Inhaling the mathematics of your femininity,

The scent, the halo, the sunset, the shadows

Filling my lungs, filling my lungs

With the incense of your being . . .

Here’s to the past,

Inebriated, seeking solace in the lavender wine

Of memory, respite in the bottom of the bottle,

From these dream-ghosts that haunt my soul,

All the dark midnight hours

Spent loved and loving,

Knowing the sweet taste of your embrace

And loving the knowledge,

Every thought your touch,

Every touch a dream,

Every dream a fantasy, fleeting and soulful

As my mind dripped with liquid revelries of you . . .

Here’s to the past;

The mornings before this forced fast,

My heart rumbling with pangs for you;

The noontimes before this drought

That dried all of my equations;

The evenings not polluted,

Not covered in the dust of distance;

The nights, oh the long, long nights                                             

Before all knowledge of you was taken,

Before all my soul was shaken,

Before I learned how dark my world is

 Without you in it.

Fool's Paradise

I lose myself in our midnight hours,                                                                                                  

Soul reveling in your atmosphere,

Refreshed in the sustenance of your smile.

Rebirthed in your rainshowers,

I hear the thunder contained in even

Our quiet moments,                                                                 

And the silence in our passion.                         

Kisses, sweet like April’s moon,

Are ours to imbibe

As these golden days pass,

Flowing all easy like Heaven’s afternoon.

It is in you, with you, that my mind rests,

My heart breathes

And the tension that defines my existence

Is unwound, however briefly.

Your voice drives me,

Filling me like the Light in your touch,

Warming my soul-garden.                                                                                

So, before I lose you to the years and miles,

Before your life from mine disappears,              

Let me just rest here awhile, basking,

In the fool’s paradise between earth and your smile. 

In The Deep Purple Bliss

We are not children of the sun,

not us, not in this incarnation.

We are the dancing stillness of the night.

And when moonlight touches us,

And my arms find your body within,

I hear your name whispered in bliss,

Flowing from my lips to your heart.

This is when I am a Man;

When I am reflected in your eyes,

When your atmosphere swirls around me,

When we touch each other without touching,

Standing in harmony under stars’ regard,

This is when I am a Man.

Seeking the deep purple time,

When removed we are from sunlight’s weight

And I may enter you presence unfettered,

Measured not by cosmic dimensions, there at the door to night,

We rush head long through the steel hours,

Souls longing as much for eventide

As our hearts long for one another.

We are the dancing stillness of the night,

Having shrugged free of summer days,

And it is to you I turn,

To the one I love,

To share chilled moonlight by the glassful,

To know Love.

I live in your eyes here,

In the darkened midnight hours,

When no other eyes touch us,

When your smile is all the moon I’ll ever need

Then, and only then,

Carried by African drums and space-age times,

Do I live.

I was made to Love you.

We are not of the days,

Bathing each other in late breezes,

And we feed each other every second of darkness,

Eating our nights together with all our souls

Because too soon even the stars fade.

Each hour nourished by your smile is another endless night,

Another passionate dusk to sustain me,

When darkness fades and I am

Tortured by Hyperion’s gaze

And distance from you.

Knowing I will hold you tight again,

When the deep purple falls

And I live in your Love;

Where the night is so easy to remember

And so, so hard to forget.