Friday, September 11, 2015

Ariadne




The scent of roses rise up in swirls
Languid the breasts rest on delicious silk
Candles melt wet warm prolepsis
Old fashioned cheeses, honey
French on the box
as the twilight dreams
of a game, an exciting game to play
The wind's hissing:
It's missing the king
about to burst in tears
sits the queen in her checked wait
no check mate
The fire still burns
the silk still kisses the light fur
Why mon amour?
The bubbly champagne shushing on quiet flute
heel on one foot
Thyme
It can't be true
The French must play:
ne me quite pas
Despised the sword lays
and the thread is tangling hues
all shades of a new blue
In the arrival end
of the labyrinth
the monster starve
and instead of dying
heroic death
she is reborn
as a new sphinx

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Velvet


Voluptuous velvets
vain Valentino's
Rain
Al Pacino
 
Empty golden pellets
 
Luxury
 
Sweet peach
Skin
it's only skin
 
Sweat
Tête-à-tête
whispering eyes
wondering
Why?
 
It's on the stars
decipher the lines
 
Vague or Vogue
Sweet caress
on the ear lobe
 
Falling robe
 
Under the velvet
in crimson satin:
pulsing blood

Monday, June 15, 2015

Chess me

From dawn to dusk
you lust your fate
as the wind gusts dust
you cross the gate

Even though time will bust
you keep your make
you do things you must
to meet your date


As you check
As you mate

You balance your plate
to equalize to be just
you jump, you jack
the queen, the template

Your darts are clay
your solids gray
Round, around on the ground: earthquake

You oblate
you encrust
diamonds on rust
anti-shining state

On and on you shake
sweat, laugh, hate,
To be or to fake?
Foundation of granulate

King of heist
This is your check
Mate

Friday, June 12, 2015

Voices



Controversial, polysemic
concentric noises
shouting
howls
woes


Art mimesis
Life sails
At an endless crossing
To a Hades
Through
Sinister
Synesthetic
synthetic
fetid Styx

Psyche
Where are your cotton balls?
Charon the ferryman
smiles
A greedy smile
Of one who won’t care
If you do have or not the mite

Psyche cover her ears
But she can’t any longer
Cover the others
Who insistently scream
Within her

Closes your eyes, dear
Life,
There
the flower
a lamb
In the calendar
on grandmother’s wall
The gentle wind in the slender leaves
Of the leafy mango tree
Yellow juicy ripened sweet mangos
serene cows

Cover your nose
Smell the wax
Feel the cold from the red epoxy floor under your feet

Rescue your Psyche
Of other people's voices
Free from the web
Love,
Listen to that little voice
Your torch of peace
Silenced by screams
Confined in chains:
Dialectics
Dietetics
Cybernetics
Frantics
Ethics Ethics Ethics ...

Sleep Psyche
Let Zephyr bring
The sands
Eros
Volupia and
silence :

Olympus

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Pardon

That pile of dried bones
Resting under dust and stones
Is what you will find
When you dig under your throne

That one of a kind
Is just in your mind
You are mostly alone
Just left behind

The coronation seems
Distant light dimmed
The fire no longer shine
Only shadows of dreams

You have chosen this path
You have dreamed it alone
Don't expect old bones
To wake from their death

Don't talk to stones
Wear alone the wreath
Had the journey been an easy one
the mighty blow might saved a breath

Unforgiven

At times when fail
Is your only grail
And you hopeful gaze
At indifferent eyes
The same old
dusty question is:
Why?
You weren't an angel
to even start
Wings only an imaginary
dream upon a star
No, there is no hail
I am sorry honey
Not even you will self bail

Thursday, April 2, 2015

JACK



How dare you confine me in your insignificant box
she gazes at the image meticulously created on the fancy hand mirror
and applies the gloss with the determination of one who loads a gun
the piercing stilettos hit the floor echoing on the hallways passed
insidious prolepsis of places yet to be
She knows the fight is vain
She knows peace in acceptance
and still on her veins the very essence of a warrior
drives her forward
in constant acceleration
burning the mileages of a limited existence
She knows statistically it will be fate
But if...
Just if.
That lingering little thread of hope
that Michelangelo's David will complete the mighty touch

Tuesday, February 3, 2015

Fractus



Translucent snow
Fly

Dressing in light
ditches, spans, emptiness

Frozen fractions
non Euclidean of
tiny geometry
so complex in it’s  triangular
gelid simplicity
infinity

fragile clear
opalescent
iridescent crystals
dancing
twirling ablaze
frozen air in movement

Descending clouds
In tracks
Reflect sky and earth
As one
The flickering white light
Refracted twilight

Kaleidoscopic images
Pointed before it’s axis
Triangular messages
Mathematics
Enigmatic
Pragmatic…
At the instant’s blade
Lies the ocular objective
Mesmerized
Trying to decipher
The brief snapshot

Spelled from the universe