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.
Tag: Thoughts
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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.
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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.
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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. -
We were but striplings, some without mothers, some without fathers, running wild in the night unafraid of pitch darkness with hearts of lions. Our aura glowed beautifully in the souls of us; we laughed and we wept in fierce countenance. We were young, yet many were the trials for us; our bodies skinny and undeveloped, so in the company of monsters we fought with tears and dreamt of vengeance. To keep the pain from sorrowful and depressed grandmothers, some held in their agony and kept the devastating silence. Go back in time, and look into the eyes of us. Move past the innocent smiles, and see the hurt in us. The unresolved pain of our past is the illness of us. We cry on the graves of our mothers and curse the abandonment of our fathers. If I could, I would take away the trauma from all of us. We seek heaven’s light to take away the darkness. They are scarred, and they are beautiful. They are my brothers. They are my sisters. Still, now, with the blood of hope, and with the blood of vengeance, we survive tormented summers and bitterly cold winters.
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In my mind, you wear a crown of seven stars,
A one-shoulder silk ultramarine blue dress,
a floral designed gold necklace, heels—
And an ankle bracelet, and you are mine.In my mind, we communicate with each other
Passionately, in devotion divine.In my mind, we transcend earth’s gravity
And make impassioned love in the skies.In my mind, I say, mi amor, how was your day?
And you say lovingly, honey, it was fine.You walk past me, and I turn my head,
So you don’t see the not so subtle longing
In my eyes.In my mind, emerald rain falls on you and I,
And I profess my love to you through my speech,
And through the tears of joy that I cry.In my mind, you are immersed in warm honey,
In a white marble bathtub—
Wearing diamond chandelier earrings
And a diamond stud nose ring,
In the most beautiful garden,
Under the shade of cherry blossom trees
That are gorgeous in their flowering.You walk past me again;
In my heart, soul, and mind—
I love you, without you even knowing. -
That I would awake you at 4 am
Just to touch you and breathe again;
That I would hold you lovingly
And kiss you like the world was
sixty seconds from its end.
That I would revere you
Like a precious relic long preserved
And unblemished.
That I would whisper to you
Beautiful words from my heart
That are true and pure;
That I would look into your eyes
And tell you it is you that I adore.
That I would run my fingers through you hair
and marvel at the gorgeous creation that you are;
That I would inhale you in last breaths
And proclaim my undying love
Even in the throes of death.
That I would take a piece of you with me
Until we are again united in empyrean glory.
That archangels in the vast heavens
With golden pens in giant books,
Would write our story.
That I would never be afraid to
Tell you that I need you, and can’t live without you;
That I would tell you I love you,
And you say, I love you too.
That even the shadow of your contour against the wall
Would cause the earth to quake
And the skies to fall.
That I would bask in the healing light of your aura;
That your ethereal nature would be sensed
Even in your whispers. -
A small black butterfly crossed my path.
I stopped in front of her so she could pass.
On her journey, she came to rest at last,
On a lone willow tree that wept over tall grass,
By a mighty river with water that runs fast;
On the willow tree she moved her wings gracefully,
Like a seasoned ballerina whose performances are legendary.
From a distance, I admired her beauty,
Then she took off suddenly
And flew over the river beautifully.
Safe travels on your journey black beauty;
Butterfly, I hope you remember me.
Intimate Compositions 