Elements

When you come back

you’ll see how deadly

I bite.

I kept your secrets

as you kept mine,

it was an exchange

of the souls,

some that meet briefly,

others that depart hastily.

I may be an earth sign

but my heart is water

my soul is fire

my body is air

and your presence

is in my blood.

You should know nothing

is real in realms.

Every poem is a continuation

of the one only meant for you.

You love her so madly, It’s lovely.

It’s how a man loves his dog

and every woman swoons.

Still I read,

you read,

it may be somewhat of a variation

thematic structures

unique to us,

but if I slip your mind

I promise to hang on

that steel step. Hope is

my downfall,

my rise.

I wait for you to slay

all your demons

come back from your hell.

This silence is madness.

In September I give most of what

I settle for away to strangers.

I’ll cry if it’s my birthday,

I’ll shop at bookstores only.

I start to plant my new seeds

right about the 19th of September

as I lay naked,

in touch with my femininity

my masculinity,

swirling in hues of gold and purples

this aura conspiring with me,

as I take all my addictions

and drink them,

collect some poems

for my grave,

people like us, we’re too sensitive

to the touch,

cry too easily.

Do you feel the words

on your lips, mouth, tongue?

Do you see how they hurt

when you swallow them?

This is why I must regurgitate

all of them

and place them

in my Virgo order.

My steel

becomes tragic

in its element,

always because

of how I feel for you.

Surrender

The line up for free coffee
is growing daily up until
they too
take away the free love.
Not something I am unaccustomed to
all I crave is
the surrender to your clever ways
play me anyway
I’m game
raising flags at red lights
stopping my heart from beating
to feel yours
hiding away under the life machines
holding on to technology
like doctors
who are poets in their own way
like us
saving lives
with words.
It seems redundant to write
how you
have the words
I want whispered in my ear
you have the hands
caressing my skin
and all the other ordinary words
poetry stems from
but ’tis true. Yes.
Shakespeare is in love again.

I found these words scattered
around from six in the morning
where my notebook lay empty.
I raise my love to you
and bore you to death
with my obsessions
and that is how easily
you can forget me.
You are the air
I am of the earth.
(And this is another reason
I will surrender
for both
need each other
more than they know.
It could be science.
It could be love
it could be none of the above.)

in simple words

Some people think
writing poetry
is a waste of time,
others absorb words
like young pupils,
still others have their hat on
and
walk right past us.
It may seem like a breeze, a simple tune you hate, that may have taken days
to compose in the heat of the muse.

All these wonders,
most of Them skip tracks on life;
you do not need to hold my hand too closely, I’ve always seen it.
So perhaps it’s time to tell you
that,
I will always love you,
it may be simple to say,
but we both know
how writing this
and saying this
are polar opposites
in both worlds.

It is somehow in all these places
on earth,
we visit,
reminding us of
the one we love
no matter
which ocean
we look out from.