In the warmth of your love
I am a hibiscus basking in the sun,
With raindrops falling gracefully
From my crimson petals,
While late summer winds
Blow against me gently,
After a passing storm.
-
-
Beneath the facade, lies the darkness
that bubbles near the surface.
It hides behind gentle gestures
and overtures of kindness.
The potency of its viciousness
is well concealed in subtleness.
The metastasis of the heart and soul
is the unsightliness of its unfettered sickness.
If aware, one must be careful around it.
Only the discerning eye can see it.
Unveiled, it is horrific in its hideousness.
Released, it is vile in its actions,
and poisonous in its utterances.
Parasitical, it eventually renders its host —
a gaunt, discolored husk of flesh.
Men and women with grey hair
that know of its ills over the years,
make gestures with index fingers over lips,
lest the darkness hears;
the recollection of their time is when
the mercilessness of men — caused famine,
starvation, mass death, destruction,
and the cold winter wailing
of the children’s tears. -
3 Then Judas, which had betrayed him, when he saw that he was condemned, repented himself, and brought again the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and elders,
4 Saying, I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood. And they said, What is that to us? See thou to that.5 And he cast down the pieces of silver in the temple, and departed, and went and hanged himself.
6 And the chief priests took the silver pieces, and said, It is not lawful for us to put them into the treasury, because it is the price of blood.
7 And they took counsel, and bought with them the potter’s field, to bury strangers in.
8 Wherefore that field was called, The field of blood, unto this day.
Matthew 27: 3 – 8 KJV
18 Now this man purchased a field with the reward of iniquity; and falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out.
19 And it was known unto all the dwellers at Jerusalem; insomuch as that field is called in their proper tongue, Aceldama, that is to say, The field of blood.
Acts 1: 18 – 19 KJV
-
To reach her depths,
he displayed
devoted patience,
loving her with
every breath;
And on the ninetieth day
she released,
fell into arms,
and wept in his caress;
kissing him
with tears,
she accepted his love,
and gave
of herself. -
Depths of exquisite intimacy
Precede transcendence in all its glory;
Eyes gaze passionately,
And after the first sentence
Comes an amorous brush, then
Beautiful silence. -
On that day I bitterly wept,
Crying for you, before and after
You took your last breath.
Now as the winter approaches,
I look at your pictures
And hold you in my caress;
Sitting in cold darkness,
I kiss you, and whisper to you
In lovingness.
The agony of my soul
Is let out in wailing —
And with every breath.
Deep crimson rose petals fall
On sentimental pictures,
Coming to rest.
I am overcome with emotion.
I cry for you.
I cry for myself. -
They laugh in gluttonous euphoria
while the poor and disenfranchised
cry out in the purgatory of agony.
Their decadence is displayed
and celebrated unabashedly.
The scent of them, is the odor
of dried blood and bile on worn money.
They hide behind the red cloak of stature,
but they are fickle and cowardly.
With discolored teeth and diseased gums,
they speak falsehoods flawlessly,
from lying tongues.
To maintain preeminence
they would go to any lengths;
The suffering of the destitute is their strength.
From the upper crust, they offer crumbs
and foment division, laughing,
while concealing reprehensible intentions.
Even in death, they would not be worthy of mention.
They lack moral compass from their very inception.
The tools of their game are,
immorality, depravity, and deception.
The souls of them, are darkened and scarred
with the cirrhosis of wickedness.
From their bowels, come the sewerage
of vile and abhorrent utterances;
They are unscrupulous, and employ
slight of hand in their practices.
They are parasitical in nature,
slowly draining their vulnerable hosts unawares;
They secretly scoff at the deep pain of others,
shielding their hideous scowls
with insincere tears. -
The vileness of their hearts are the foul utterances of their mouths
and the unbridled wickedness of their actions.
With every breath they are condemned,
and with every movement of the hand
the filth of their souls is revealed.
The pain they have inflicted on others for so many years
is now turned inward, as they rot from the inside out.
They will seek mercy but there will be none;
They will say, I have changed, and now see my error,
but no one will believe them.
They will offer gifts, prostrating themselves with tears,
but will be reviled and spat upon.
Their names will be bywords for mockery and excoriation.
They will not have a moment’s peace, or one second for reflection.
There will be no reprieve, even in their mourning.
In their dreams they will hear the voices of their victims,
decrying them, over and over again.
The torment of their purgatory will never end.
The path of their destruction will be remembered
even unto the fourth and fifth generations.
The stories of their mercilessness and unbridled treachery
will be passed down and never die.
-
For men at sea.
For Laura, USN (HM).
For Erik, USN (HM).
For Black Soldiers who valiantly fought, and endured discrimination and the scourge of racism upon their return home.
-
Those passionate utterances in every breath;
That first sensual kiss and the emotions you felt;
The healing you find in the giving of yourself;
The strength you found when you thought you had nothing left;
The tranquility of a newborn
in the cradle of his mother’s breasts;
The joy of a father recording his daughter’s first steps;
The tears of joy when the one you love reaches your depths;
The warmth of your body in sweet caress;
The roses given that express tenderness;
The whispering of three words that bring oneness.
Intimate Compositions 