~

his heart’s response,
its waterfall;
cascade tumbling,
cleanses all
embattled,
dusty trenches,
these heart-wrenched,
rusty, dried-out ends;
a faucet opened,
floodgates broken,
spillway leading
to relief;
channel of
redemption,
overcomes his
apprehension,
and dares to bare
his heart’s
intention;
betrays the truth
that lies beneath,
yes, his bottled tears
need this release,
and his longing,
thirsty soul
it finally quenches.

~

*post script.


if a man weeps in the darkness does anyone hear?  does his culture drive that man to hide his inner fears?  is he emasculated by his tears?  do they infer his weakness, or do they simply reveal his humanity, his identity that is neither culture nor age defined, his propensity to feel all that it is to be human... if they would but let him?  perhaps i am just one of the fortunate ones; who employs a blend of caring, understanding friends and the rest-who-don’t-be-******!  what is the price to be paid for those who are not as lucky as i?

The bird has flown far far from home
where none will ever find her;
she left behest a vacant nest,
and crumbs as a reminder
of all the things her mighty wings
have borne of her creation,
and now she's gone to fly anon
and left a ruination

Far far from home the bird has flown
and time is ever fleeting,
a vacant nest she left behest
in silence of her beating
her mighty wings; of all the things,
she knows the sheer elation
to fly anon, and now she's gone
to seek her own salvation

the Internet sets
higher aspirations

a teaching guide,
on how to

go beyond and deep into
the fast lane's curved and wide,
stretching
the straight and narrow

longer than lasting,
lasting no longer than
memory feelings
blurred overlapping burnt edged video recordings

pores pour oil and noise,
differentiating little between
beginning ending continuous

in the mind, from the walls,
Santana Rob sings "Smooth,"
but it is
the guitar wailing controlled penetrations.
a national anthem
of driven perpetual needy fomenting
outspoken physical truths

you don't care how you
got there,
where you are,
anybody's name,
high octane high performance

*** today,
is not for
the shy and the retiring, sissies,
we all got the necessary expertise,
with violin accompanist of pharma teaching aids

recalling first time tumblings,
exhaling
deep down throated rumblings,
rushing
fumbling ******* an ****** innocence
rushes of surprise and discovery,
success of feeling successful,
the shame of miscommunications

think I'm gonna watch me
a romantic comedy,
write her a love poem,
come up from behind,
caress her *******,
kidding kissing her ear lobes,
then entering her entry point,
her neck
even when she is
armed
but forgiving,
busy chopping dinner's vegetables,

make them make them
give up the hidden
soft atonal squealing
like a
piccolo on steroids,
high pitch teasing,
pinched by air ****** intaking

I'll play the bass,
hitting those low notes,
******* my own strings,
deep ooh's and aah's
diode emitting,
the drug employed
is unadulterated
wanton but wanted
desire

this won't be the poem of the day,
no mind,
it already is was and
will be...

As I travel with my dreams
There are imaginary places to visit
Through the tunnels of thoughts
Sliding down with ease and delight
Towards the heart of created spaces
Feeling light as air, I fly carelessly
Like an albatross with expansive dreams
I soar above the imaginary lands
Where all the situations are more real
A reality, that is more affectionate
With hope in my heart, I fly along
Carefree and deep satisfaction
One day I can replace this reality
With the one that is more vicious
I love to travel with my dreams
My heart says, I shall be heard one day
I can be the architect to build another world
A reality where everyone life can thrive

She saw a poster on the tree down the road
The sort left for years, forgotten and alone
And holding her tears she tore down the face
That was no longer lost, for it was her own.