Love is....

It seems as if i can wrap myself around the toss 'n' tumble of pungent memory as long as there is love... and... poetry

Memories i can't simply forget like William shakespeare and Juliet, Macbeth? though his story different....
It was written by a poet of love and if that's what spewed from his pen ....then that's how he'll always be remembered

If... that's what spewed from his pen...then... that's how he'll always be remembered


....why... do i unravel and travel along the painless, effortless journey of what was real epiphanising, uncompromising.....realising that

pages glared to resuscitate the life and perpetuate the resounding voice of a naive 16 year old describing love as if 61!

what can she possibly know?...i questioned myself.... but it occurred to me that love is youth... in an emotional, devotional way...

you know what it is when its found, explored and experienced....

Love is addictive, attractive and reactive

Love has no weather; it's a silly hat above rediculously huge yellow goggles frowning at the sun and dancing under the moon

love is a song that wouldn't end soon


Love is as simple as a breath of fresh... air


Love, like a clock, ticks as long as ...the heart... permits

Love is the slow, rhythmic beat of the drum... sinking into the melody of soft strings on a spanish guitar and.....saxophone......the play of an old polished flute... especially when the characters are mute

Love is an antiquated wine; intoxicating, riveting and quenches the thirst for knowledge and introspection

Love is as beautiful as knowing God

God is as beautiful as knowing love

Love is giving without weakening....it's giving in excess

Love resembles nothing, wears nothing but bears all beneath the steel walls of our breast

Love is never captive but free

Love is grateful for that 16, 61 year old who thought that.....

Love is..... always.... faithful

Toxi kiss

It's inhumane not to notice the thrill of things abstract and unreachable

The touch of elements unspeakable

The whisper of thoughts unthinkable

For in the wind of all that has to be, its dust cleaves and weaves without fray

As mortal souls rebuke stray

Toxi kiss
Its softness n stickiness lingers

its stain infects and perplex willing 'casts'

enveloping the moving world and to an unforbidden place then cast...it lasts for as long as you want

perpetuates memories of more to come

congratulates the toss and tumble of intimacy and childish fun!

Toxi kiss
mesmerizing the language 'french'

as savoring souls clench... to a warmth... to forget where, when and why
the world exists among lifeless planets

the journey of continues as lips wrestle to transfer the inexplicable
moisture gripping the affable...

tugging gently with an innocent attempt to intoxicate and invigorate

Toxi kiss
Realizing only the smear of spontaneity

engulfing an oral somersault

Eluding the thirst 'n' quench of fermented malt

exploring and exploring the perfection of fault, then to perfection again

The journey is almost never ending as all dreams must come to a halt...

Manaka: a jungle experience

A similar number appears, all groggy from the previous night's supper
they trailed down 'n' up steep slopes
to....re-assemble and struggle to keep eyes peeled and thoughts alert
wishing and hoping that the journey's theme can convert

HURT is an acronym for weakness
no space for dreaming, too little time to stand still
as the breeze fetch the potent scent of crushed insects and fresly cut leaves to make way
though sunshine warms the surrounding moisture
the weather is perfect to make hay

The clock ticks with personalities as shouts n mumurings NOW contribute to the fog "skid trail!" ......"chop away from the skid trail!!!"
Voices heightened, the feeble frightened that this may never end!
Hunger visits; then moves in without warning

Heavy boots tarry, worry subsides to anxiety
but nature, though ignored, beckons her soothing sounds as weary souls make their rounds: back n forth....back... n... forth
OTHERS....growing bored n numb
nibbling on a crumb

The crowns of trees shook as chilly winds drew near
"only the bottom of the lianas!"...."leave them hanging!"

soon they finished with the tape flagging, then tumbled in muddy trucks
As dazed eyes dragged on sodden tracks
eager to be closed and rested in chilly-warm hammocks!

Bitter-sweet

The steam from my cup fills my nose
Bearing the aroma of cream and ground tea
Raindrops splatter on my sill
As other “characters’ suddenly...grew...still

Peace stirs too filling and animating normal fingers, normal thoughts 'n' a busty heart
Raindrops splatter still to remind hearts of the newness and richness of flow
Slow-ly defining the reason for rain; washing aching shoulders, soothing congested thoughts, bathing feeble knees rocking... to... n...fro’

Chirping, crowing, quacking all heightened and aired as a choir
Gathering sounds of soul and culture fulfilling my moment’s desire

Surreal moments brew reminding me of ......
I’ve received your message, before the alarm screamed two!
SOMEONE shook my bed! But it was only my little sis’
Pondered on the word that somehow rhymed with...
Thought of a symphony and sealed with a....tinge of bitterness

A crack of light bent through my door
I squinted my eyes and your message touched the floor
i turned to assimilate other verses leaping to a clue
and rest...my washed soul...mouthing soft whispers of... “I’VE MISSED YOU TOO”

Liberty

My steps drew near the “form” locked, erect and focussed
Every staggering step reflected the shivers of a different soul
Cold, lazer penetrated, but certainly supported, magnetized,
monopolized by the air of difference
A different kind of difference; organised and purposeful

I pretended to ignore the realness, sever again severed strings, tug again at strands of pre- combed hair, scrub walls that linger the stain of pungent memory
Then to reality again, I moved... once again ...taking with me his silhouette
I wouldn’t forget....I promised myself...to record this moment
I wouldn’t ignore....I scolded myself, what contributes to my liberty

2010...

Fingers twiddling in awkward synchrony

Twist and turns in subtle epiphany
Moments escaping as fast as idle thoughts

A separate dimension, a separate world, a separate spoken word
Legs shift with lies
eyes peel with cries
Demise....an ellipsis for lengthy thinking
Fingers clutched, thoughts sinking

The moment comes but still a stone
I’m here but if you pound my toes you wouldn’t find a bone
Alone...and grinding against the ridges of too much sunshine no! too much rain
Maybe both...wishing for more in betweens and the smother of unusualness
Liking the scent of normalcy
but too much of one thing is good for the cemetery

Breaking point...

Quarter now but destined to rotate revealing once again
It’s cutting brightness, separating two worlds
But connecting them yet again on a level ...subliminal

Another verse, another poem
When would the madness end!!!!
Like the sun that rises in the east and sets in the west
My thoughts are renewed, my limbs are able and my clothing without intention but continues to root reason:
For question, for conversation, for explanation

I’m overwhelmed not by the things I wanted to be gullible about
Not for the plea of need “reflected” from your eyes
But why you never fought...for me...
Why!... ATLEAST the weave of friendship didn’t reflect ....and why “they” termed it “lies”
Cries...now screams transformed its volume silently

My chest palpitates rhythmlessly
My feet fit into “prints” that were held in perfect condition
Prints of past; I’m reliving a life to my own “detriment”
Anticipating my “death” to be risen from the ashes once again

My question is “how many times must I die...to you?”
What are you...if not my friend...?