Who Will Peek Beneath Your Hood Of Words?

Always, in every way, every day
You give until you bleed to feed
Your hungry need to be understood
Even beneath your hood of words;
It’s the only means to speak,
To give the world a peek
Into your overflowing soul,
Slowing the rhythm of your heart
To show in part the art of who
You are and what you’ve been
From the start; does anyone listen?
Do they read to fulfill your need?
Yet you open another vein believing
But ne’er receiving what’s beyond
Your conceiving: You’re deceiving
Yourself again, but when you begin
To realize the prize you want
Is beyond you to seize; it’s just
Another disease of the human soul,
Bowl of emptiness…
But you keep trying, lying to your
Heart that you’ll find the better
Part of humanity even among insanity,
And this for your own vanity:
You’re but a grain of beach sand,
Member of the wandering band
Of flesh-and-blood, fresh from
Its own pen marks on otherwise
Blank pages supplied by heavenly
Sages down through the ages, so…
Who will peek beneath your hood
Of words, where birds of self-
Revelation fly before you
Say goodbye after you try
Just one more time, just once more?

Note: Previously published in December 2015, republished due to some renewed interest and also for the enjoyment of new reader-followers. Peace and blessings to all!


Will Weeping Sound and Love be Given?

Cast down, rejected, born one lonely,
Surrounded by crowds bathed in love
Never touching sordid soul so unholy,
Encoffined in dark, no light from above.

This prison is mine, and I despair alone,
And comes no mercy on wings of wind,
Nor calls my beloved in passion’s tone
To loose my bonds and heart remend.

Will weeping sound and love be given
To the life-gone man who lies in state;
Affection enfold the cursed of heaven,
And on cold lips offered kiss too late?

Note: First published in May 2012 


Driven by so much rejection you’re an uneasy collection
Of mixed emotions pining for affection and protection
From loneliness, spinning and running without direction
In search of perfection in love, and so with projection
Finely tuned and acute, you imagine solidarity of hearts
Where there is only infection of your tarnished soul
With dark hole so large that only God could fill you up
But you sup on sordid images of longing and belonging
To someone, anyone, without rhyme or reason, completely
Out of season, even though it’s treason of the mind,
But you bind yourself to lurid images in horrid hunger;
You are…


Learn and Turn

Skating on thin ice, you’re heading for the danger zone,
Rushing into love that burns and turns to ashes quickly,
Singes the edges of your heart, stretches your soul thin,
Runs you into the ground, pound on pound, not a sound;
And you are foolish to fly in where angels dare to tread
For dread of being pulled down to hell, but you’re deaf
To the warning bell … but you’ve plugged up your ears
In the fear of being left alone, bereft of all love, my dove,
But you’re reaching your hand into the fire of your own
Blackened funeral pyre, no hesitation or intimidation,
And what’ll you have proven, then, when you’ve burned?

Learn and Turn

Ashes to Ashes

It might surprise some of my recent readers to discover that I DO actually have a darker side. LOL Today I kind of, sort of challenged my friend and poet, Nandita, (of Manan Chained and Manan Unleashed) to collaborate with me on something of a darker poem. She graciously accepted, and now I offer to you the product of our joint creativity. Please enjoy!

Languishing in cold seclusion of the darkened heart
Screaming for the light behind the shadows that part
Only an allusion to love at the conclusion of joy
My heart being ripped apart from my chest, a damaged toy
Profusion of pain screams for some soul transfusion
Last hope for salvation from a macabre damnation

And here in the wasteland I’ve joined the nomad band
In search of greener pastures, walking on burning sand
Yeah, the fruit was alluring in enduring brightness
As a woman akimbo to a man in limbo lost in sense
So I bit the fruit securing my own relational damnation
Blinded by hunger, clouded by grief; no rationalisation

Corroded arteries of the spirit, eroded veins of heart
Morbid desires devoured by ghoulish fires, a closed start
What is left now but to bow low to slow bleeding
As my heart flutters one last time, my soul leaving
Ah! In the floor I bore a hole with my acid tears of fear
I shan’t rise from the ashes, no magical Phoenix tears
Now comes the pitch black blight of endless night!
Hark! dragging footsteps as my soul drapes eternal plight


Missing You

We used to kiss in the grove of old hickory trees and honey bees;
You would tease and I would please.

We used to hold hands along the beach, our passion just within reach;
And each of us promised to teach.

We used to lie side by side, naked under the moon, hide under stars;
Not too soon to move, and sing a lovely tune.

We used to be and see each other — sister, brother; mother, lover;
Was it all a fabricated lie in some sweet by and by?

Now there is not even glances or the casual visit, but do we miss it?
You go your way, and I go mine, and that’s just fine…

But it tears my heart, part by part.

I miss you.

In the Sea of the Forgotten

He stares out his window at the world he cannot bear,
Hears the cars go by as tears well up in his eyes;
He’d steer a different course, but it’s all so unclear;
He’s sunk into the forgotten sea, drunk on cheap wine;
He smashes out his smoke, then strokes the glass rim;
He lights another cigarette, placing an imaginary bet;
He’s a gambler in illusion, delusion his one companion;
He looks at the phone atop his mountain of unread books;
He bets there’ll be no ring and lets himself cry again;
He recounts his sin, wonders if he can begin once more;
He wonders what’s in store for him on the other shore;
He spies the paper he tore laying on the suit he wore;
He blinks, takes a drag, and thinks, ‘Nice suit, eh?’
He waits for the rings that’ll never come, so he sings;
He sings a sad song about how he’ll wing his way above,
He knows, one day when the show’s over and
He’s under clover cover . . .
He stares out his window at the world he cannot bear.

Across Oceania the Wind Saves Your Song


Across Oceania and over the waves, the wind saves your song,
Long passage to pass to me, to teach as I reach to touch
What is untouchable, and search in my heart for such glory
That I hear in your melody; yet can I bear the terrible space
Between us? But your words lace up the distance, kiss the air;

From across Oceania, wrapped tight round Gaia, bound by night,
You snare me with your love, take the better share of my heart;
No, not in part but the whole of my soul; thru the willow trees
And aspen, over hillocks, atop the knoll, and I strain my song
Back to you with no lack of passion, under ashen grey skies.

If you say ‘goodbye’ would I be well nigh death, last breath?
For what more do I have in life so rife with pain, but only
To gain your best, and your breast against my heaving chest?
Sing, then, till the Fates bring us together again, cracking
What sin did part our way in wicked fray of ill-war fought.

Across Oceania and over the waves, the wind saves your song. . .


Letting Go of the Show


It’s so damn hard to let go of the show,
But one must grow through the insane pain
Of turning away from the burning fake love;
Throw away the wedding cake never meant to be!

For your own sake, wake up; cling to truth,
And sing and be free from the gross misery
Of lies told beneath such unfriendly skies;
Say your good-byes, and hurt for being burnt.

You were used and abused; she was only amused
She’d caught you and bought you with a smile
One mile wide, but she was never on your side;
Now you abide in life rife with stain and pain.

Tis better to know, though, and to let it go ~
Nothing more than callous pretense and show ~
Now grow and glow as you throw away the lies
Like poisoned pies; fly up into friendly skies!

You were meant for better, and so this letter
To tell you the final bell hasn’t rung for you;
Don’t be so damn blue, then; but rise up true
To who you really are … one shining star!