Pride

My pride I prize -
this, that scales my spine
then ebbs into the eyes,
is the soul's firework,
a celebration that would do.

I eat up all boxes.
Toxic, they call me.
My tears, Antarctic termites -
I'm the beat of winter.

There's a dearth of death, in here.
Ribs snake a scape; create
shapes; and the careless dance
is an existence, a celebration,
a treat, a toast raised
but in surprise.

I am. I am not.
And yet my wrists are kissed
by lips that could be mine.

And pride. The spine.

Excavate Passions

Excavate passions, dig out the old name -
a dusty beauty, music - thirsty sound,
let her memory clink in your heart, claim
all space; every emotion astound.

Let her have that one moment once again
where she had had you drown, a photograph -
captured in her light, all you could remain
was a stillness that always seemed to laugh.

Dig out the lyre that lulled you into life.
Oh, look at her a seasoned ecstasy!
Tonight be draped in the nudes that ran rife
in her little world, your dreams' embassy.

Let her carry you to the other side;
let the pure of your passion defeat pride.

No Masterpiece

My poem's not a masterpiece -
read; do not ask for peace.

I'm a handicap, handle me -
too much of a fire, candle me?

Try me on your voice -
maybe I'm a song of choice.

Let me ring in your ears;
let it bring you tears.

Only do not reduce me to a God!
Love me, worshipping is odd.

Erruer?

And I'm wanting to walk
on the purest snow -
is that where I've erred?
For wherever I go,
there's dirt.

And oh,
the night chokes the moon;
lesser of it do I spoon - 
the moon in my silver eyes.

And I keep the clocks
that had stopped
sometime ago.
Is that where I've erred?
Wanna know.

Where the grass was crushed,
off-shot mistrust -
is that where I erred?
I only needed to walk
on something untouched.

A blank sheet,
all to myself
and I'll write undeterred.
Do not tell me
that I have erred.

I Twinkle A Jade

Tulips ocean my heart; I twinkle a jade -
cancerous, the memories we never made.

Reality's whirlpool caught another road;
I slip on slopes of Time and hours, evade.

Your thoughts own my lips; I smile to self -
militant, the joy 'bout me; why, I was betrayed!

My laughter's a gale colouring our silence;
you preyed upon a heart that never played.

This being yours, this forgetfulness!
I'm happy tonight; another death, delayed!

Chasing Feathers

Since when have you been chasing feathers, heart?
I watch you tear hollow hoops, steer stages
into myths; I eye you vie for the dart
that is destined for circles and cages.

Here, I look at you from this higher plane -
a spectre unravelling Time's coarse snares;
I see you impel fires; dream, spin, spur rain.
What not have you been doing all these years!

Since when have you been evading weathers, heart?
I see you invent minutes, forget seconds;
I watch you tackle deaths, your births abort;
and I look at you target dead ends.

Be lead not by will, wisdom or your wings -
fall, but a prey to invisible winds.

Eyes are the Gaps

Your eyes have been drinking all the fissures

that taint our story of love, maim the field

of warmth; and break the circuitous leisure

into hours of disbelief, doubt, pity,

feigned indifference. You even give in

to desires you do not really have -

taking the shape of a body, trying

to emerge a form... It is nothing but

the failure of wax to die a meaning.

Eyes are the gaps, my love; seeing is judging.

Give up your mind and find the nothing that

has always perfused love - you will be free,

even of me.