Because You Loved Me, I Will Not Be Your Winter.

You are my story before it was told
in a time that has grown cold
old is the face you wear to express my most sympathetic fears
And your tears taste of my transgressions

I would not have known the life I lead
If it had not been for your silent plea
A hand outstretched in my direction
Searching for some slight connection

A whisper
A spark
A glint of faint light
We found ourselves united in our plight

So from there we fled
No neck turned back
We looked ahead
To our paradisaical trek.


Enemy to Enemy and a Tip of Your Hat

What if the halos of all the angels
were simply the most elegant of saintly white hats?
What if the wind
was the words of our loved ones returned,
And storms
were the pounding of their foots’ soles on their heavenly ground?

Would you rethink the world
Would you ask for second chances and give them in return?
What if in the mind of some stranger
Night was a colour and morning was a song?
Would you hum the melody,
Or still turn your eyes from the light of day?

Would those shaded white wings have to pull you from your crypt?
Should their ivory flesh tear you from the ground,
Should their untainted fingers become stained by your grief?

What chorus would wait for you I wonder,
for them to teach you to dance and to sing?
As you show them the colours of a night they’d never known.

I wonder if they’d wish
They’d never seen your face.

Jambalaya 6&7: Two Thoughts for Your Crown…


Our opinions are two sides of the same coin
Neither of us knows who is in the writ and in the wrong
Till the money is spent

It doesn’t matter anyway
Because we all turn to dust again in the end.

All it took for a caveman to become an Emperor
Was for him to kill and demean his fellow man for a thorny crown.
Heavy that burden must have been.

Desire is the Flavor the Devil Cooks You For.

And so I was thinking
in the moment of my winking, blinking time
That the land I walk is tilting
It softens to swallow me.

A delicious threat
I’ll take it, coated in oil
as my hand slips elegantly beneath the surface.
A call to slow swimming.

Brimming now the surface
As the subject reemerges.
She seems different, unrecognizable.
Yet I know I’ve seen those eyes and lips somewhere before.

It’s unmistakable,
The sight of something you wish to taste
Yet you know to taste it is to be eaten
No pity to the gluttonous gourmet.

I’ll Leave You For Now, But Remember We Share The Destination.

Captive crystal
A grain of sand
A prism that seeks to break apart the solidarity of the light
But the colors only have themselves to converse with

In their confusion they know no better
Than to blame one shade or the other
All of them now such shameful shades
Shadows of their former self.

Men are like that
Many wars waged over a shade or color
Some grudge left to a lonely and forgotten past
They forget they bleed the same.

Like the colors
The same force powers them
It drives them
And eventually it divides them.

Why Shouldn’t You be a Star? Because then You Would be on Unlimited Supply.

You are infinity with Andromeda in your eyes
With endless curiosity and hunger blazed skin
None could rip you from the gravity of it.
A light of boiling speed and admiration.

Deftly you could destroy
Pushing back the ever encompassing black
As you blare with a song only heard as screams
Deafened by the wake that was your own to draw.

You are boundless beauty with an eternal possibility for life
To our lifetime you are immortal
To our knowledge why shouldn’t you be?
To me you are unattainable.

Waltz with a Blue Devil

An eye for an eye and your eyes are tragic as I have never known.
A serenity of crystal blue chaos,
A manic whirl of erratic thought and wonder,
The observer is obsessed with your ferocity.

Not just this one, but that one, and the other,
They all are.
Your menace is an inviting one.
It whispers to all who witness it:

“Come inside, there’s nothing to fear
I am here to hold you
Beware my claws that fold you
To the shadows that I have become.”

To dance with you one night is freedom from such confining blood.

Free Movement, Untapped

Like a tipsy sidewinder in volcanic soil
You find the earth soft and friendly in the wake of disaster
How I envy your perseverance friend
I admire the way you move.

Eloquent desire, you quest without tiring
A mold of unexpected and persistent perfection.
I’d say you guide me but you’re simply the spite of me
For you are all that I could wish I should

To be, to dream, to see
To invent, to invite, to bring to light
You are a model of complex simplicity
An intricate form who’s space is so neat.

My divine intervention that makes me complete.

The Master’s Feast

“The diet is of fresh poultry, untreated.
Feather from flesh and flesh from bone,
The skin is brittle but tasty.

Red is the color of the other meat,
A steak to choke you as you dine,
So I think I shall not partake.

It sits as a stone to ruin you in your gullet,
And the fruit, the fruit!
It is all rotten!

Don’t you know such citrus is not meant for late winter!
Lemon, lime, and orange all rot!
But the sprig, it is fresh!

Herbs for all seasons I do attest!
They cure the body and ease the mind.
No need for potion or brew!

And the green of the earth has been dried and stored.
They hang from the shelves in neat bouquets,
Arrangements of a fair harvest, they are!

But the pig,
Bah! Send him way!
His iron pot is filled with fever!

Nye shall I ever feast on that bacon!
Rather, I shall take delight in the fair hunt.
With pure skies for duck and dove!

Deer prance the meadow and wood,
Ripe for an arrow and carving stoop,
More a thrill than fishing, I’d say!”