Tag Archives: poetry

By Any Other Name…

By any other name, yet we remain unnamed.
By any other name, because we don’t cast blame.
By any other name, but we enjoy the home runs more than the very game.
By any other name, what I see would grow beyond tame.
By any other name, the intensity of your gaze would be considered the same.
By any other name, yet we remain unnamed.
By any other name, because we don’t cast blame.
By any other name, and the sweet scent would be classified as rose,
but that, that would only make it vulnerable to decompose.
By any other name, and we would call it love,
but this is just, just amicable touch.
By any other name, and we would address it as such,
but this, this is not so much.
By any other name, yet we remain unnamed.
By any other name, because we don’t cast blame.

Libre e Encarcelada

Comienza el día como ningún otro.
La noche todavía presente,
Pero se hace ser conocido el aliento del sol que viene.

Y es que el día es nuevo,
Pero los sentimientos procedentes.
Y es que el sol que da luz es el mismo que siega,
Por razón de su misma habilidad de iluminar con tanto vigor.

Libre, e encarcelada-
Libre, e encarcelada.

Comienzan las caricias como cualquier otras,
Pone sus manos sobre mi piel.
Apretones firmes,
Pero también temblorosos e inciertos.

Decadente es el sabor de su deseo,
Proliferándose hacia satisfacción con solo tocarme.
Se libera y me ata.

Libre, e encarcelada-
Libre, e encarcelada.

Ella es el todo.
Y yo,
Parte de ella.

Unsensed Nociception

Love only happens at arms length when paper meets pen.
I am numbness on the verge of feeling pain,
But too callous to be aware of afference.

Clear skies only happen through my window,
Step outside, grey clouds ease from sun,
But I corrode amid this humidity.

I describe a day a kin to me like a brother,
I describe a day that is like any other.
A day when you shine bright and I opaque your light,
A day when you stand ground and I take flight.

I am frozen by your flame,
I am frozen by your flame,
I am frozen by your flame…

Loved, in vain.

The thread of an instant that weaves the fabric of eternity

She stands there, plastered before my eyes as I lift one hand to touch her skin lightly.
Looking, needing, silently.

Hair soaked, head heavy.
Moist discomfort, familiarizing—steady.

Tear ducting clouds, uncandid trembling of the now.
Sky shedding rivers, whys, wondering—how?

Splattering and lathering- translucent stain.
It’s obvious. It’s wet. It’s rain.

A gentle caress?
No, no… No—she remains motionless.

It’s cold. It’s cold.
God it’s cold.

Locking herself behind the open door,
She directs her attention to the mud-forming floor.

Optimistically and subtly seeking grace,
I lift the blindfolding strands of her hair away from her face.

Entreating an ample weighing gaze,
Discountingly, her glance shoves into drifted daze.

Why? Why?
Why doesn’t she say anything?
A mere indication, a look, a sign of noticing?

Why? Why?
Why does she keep me waiting here?
This far is furthering— by the very proximity of near.

Why? Why?
Why can’t she at least make a hurtful sarcastic remark as she has so many times before?
How can I swim in the sea, when rejected by its shore?

Weather bending knee,
She does not see me.

But it is I, I who came!
Thus she, she is NOT to blame…

And so, I wait.
I wait for a word, a smile, some form of warmth to ease this chill.
I wait for anything to nurture the fading verve of my will.

Longing for, venerating her touch,
Needs are little, but still too much.

And it’s cold. It’s cold.
God its cold.

Finding faith before it comes undone,
I surrender and look towards the sun.

All of a sudden, a glimmer of light makes way in the sky!
She turns up, commencing a half smile and I begin to cry.

“You’re alive,” she says to me.
“I am now,” I reply.

Her eyes spread into perfectly round sapphire spheres.
I grabbed her hand, the warmth to dissolve my fears.

A tinkle of laughter unfolds from her crescent mouth—she is happy.
Liberated, potentiated, as though moon free from gravity.

Inhaling her scent I whisper,
“Your beauty makes me weak.”

Kissing my lips and wrapping herself in my arms, she says,
“Your love makes me free.”

Evocative of, but Only Moderately Neurdian-esque Disposition

Final poem about you.

You bestow your essence upon my need.
Tenderly caressing my desires,
Hastily digging your sword into quixotic hope. 

You are not a “you” at all to me.
Just a mere concept I entertain,
A dithering of reason aspiring inspiration.

You are the ink inside my pen.
Bleeding out onto words unwritten,
Smearing through lives you aren’t living.

You are a dream.
You are a dream and I,
I…I don’t sleep.

Eyes are open, mind’s awoken.
Too aware to fall victim to the sway of your despondency.

And so,
As you are You,
As I AM me,
We’ll see all that we see— independently.

Poem #2 About You

Chill stemming from bones,
Rippling out onto skin as though fractal tones.
Without sound these notes construe a vibratory melodic hue.
Upon the staff of body,
Pitch coloring, brush strokes- now warm, become gaudy.

Heat rises.
Anticipation, precipitation.
Stemming forth and from light driven frequency.
Harmoniously, intersensorily, redundantly.
Like song, like poetry.

Invoking the known remaining still unknown.
We roll like a stone.
We roll like a stone.
We roll…
Begging for the moment,
Waiting for the the time,
For touch’s condone.

Appetite for Conversation

June 25th, 2013

Heights far from wuthered, wuthered far from high
And so , I write:             

Senselessly I begin to sense…

Your words coming forth,
I the ember, and you my breath.

Your mouth dancing in the darkness of the night,
As though the moon reflecting perfect light.

Shine bright, shine bright and shine—
Till the eloquence spawning from your lips finds mine.

We’ll speak along the evening tide,
Delicately whispering till the sun dawns the desires we cannot hide.

Your diction like the pen, writing sonnets across my sky;

Enticing in rhymes,
Conveying in sighs.

Verbalize, verbalize,
Till noon, till your satisfied.

The stage is set,
Compose your rosette.

Express, express,
My pleasure’s manifest through your utterance.


Quivering in the sound,
Through your touch I am found.

Let my body be the Tao,
Onto which you bow.

And I will stand in ovation,
Of your sacred convocation.