the baptism...

her heart wrapped in dreams’ disguise
‘ore seas of brilliant rainbow skies
she flew on wings of dragonflies
deep inside her wild wild eyes
to where her true love lies
between her thick slow thighs

her soul now to be baptized

.

.

the prints of your heart...

they’re there
just can’t be seen
but that don’t mean
they’re not there
invisible snares
wanderin’ windin’
their way
where they’re gonna stay

layin’ latent ‘cross the
wet slippery surface

threshold scorin’ identified
their ridges unique

to the exclusion of all others
carry the mark of no one else

their friction amplifyin’
vibratin’ my soul

signalin’ the shadows
of my lost past

they’re there
seems they’ve always been
right there under my skin
makin’ their way within
no beginin’ and no end
born in passion and in sin

plastic or patent
no difference to repent
the burden mine
for now and all time

oh, yeah, they’re there
layin’ our love bare

the prints

of your heart

on mine

.

.

.

the cleansing...

no matter what she tried and tried
her heart from inside out had cried
but from herself she could not hide

then she felt the sound of her tears
struggling to drown the ghosts of her fears
keeping them with her always near

sorrow trickling down her face
washing away love’s lost grace
leaving her soul without a trace

 

the sand traveler...

his face etched by the winds of time
like the pyramids that were his home
determination sculpted by the sifting sands
like the giant sphinx standing guard in the desert
his skin colored copper by the tides of the red sea
the sands and sea
that bore him on his journey
this journey of eons
this journey through time
through space
other lives
seeking searching through space and time

and time had taken its toll
piercing his flesh with its passage
burning into it the uncharted map of his life
space becoming his tent called home
walking under the harsh glare of the sun

soaring over the moon and sleeping under the stars on his wayward travels
his heart beating in rhythm to the memory of clanking camel bells
a heart fertile still as the nile delta
a heart crimson filled with the blood of his ancestors

but a heart with a missing piece
and it was for this missing piece of his soul that he continued to search

to travel that bound him to never forsake
desolation his only companion as

on he trekked ‘cross sinuous serpentine shapes
his long hair and head cloth his body’s only armor

against the scorching solitude of his journey

and so it was that his hard lean body

with its crimson heart yearned and ached

for that which was missing

which had always been missing from his life

from this life and all the other lives in space and time
until one day in a single moment

where time itself stood still and space no longer spun round

this noble traveler collided with a force so powerful

as to render him to his knees on the burning desert floor of his present life
a force so powerful as to shake him to his core
ramming its way into the deepest crevices of his soul
copper caverns long forgot
a force omnipotent
yet a force he feared not
there was a familiarity to this force
a sense of familiarity that transcended
transcended space transcended time
gripped in the fierce beauty of this familiar stranger 

his heart with the missing piece began to pulsate to push to thrust outward
further outward till at last it was whole again
whole again and fiercely beating
beating in rhythms rampant with life anew a new life
and with his heart made whole so too were his other senses
senses long seared shut by life time after life time of searching
but senses now no longer dulled
in this instant of newly found wholeness
there came to this noble traveler
a sound almost silent almost imperceptible
but a sound nevertheless
a whisper
a soft velvet smooth whisper
that slipped gently through his ears and
down down into his blooming heart
caressing the scarlet vessel...

shhhhh.....
i am here...
you have found me...

totem walk...

totem walk

me soft

take me down that path
far from sin's own wrath

take me by the hand
lead me through the sands

take me now through time
tell me you are mine

take me by my heart
play me like mozart

totem walk me soft
fly me far aloft

totem walk
me

soft

but i ain't nev'a been loved...

i been a lotta thangs in my life somebody’s child somebody’s wife
taught sundey school an’ carried a knife
lived in good and lived in strife
but one thang i ain’t nev'a been is loved
 

had sweet nothin’s whispered in my ear
even had somebody call me dear
stayed with him for more’n a year
and once or twice i shed a tear
but i ain’t nev'a been loved

oh yeah, i been hugged on
and kissed on an’ i been loved on
but i ain’t nev'a been loved

not through and through
not till now
till you

you bring me back...

 

 

at night when i close my eyes

and you are there deep inside

you bring me back to where i wanna be

back to where we both were free

 

 in dreams

and

golden

moonbeams

.

.

.

yes, it does........

the lionman sits...

the lionman sits in stone-carved wait 

for all the children at his gate

the days are short the time draws near
and peace comes not to those who fear

for it is said that in the end
what it was will just begin

those who were will be again
you could be you or maybe kin

the seers know for what to see
as what they see will come to be

there is no secret to believe
no gods seek thee to deceive

the key to all is given all
to save themselves from the fall

to live now to live again
is simple really it’s all within
 

the ancient kings hold not the key
‘tis your own soul will set you free

 

‘tis you and you alone you see
who will decide to be or not to be

the lionman sits in sun and sand
your lives not his to command

he sits
he waits...

a re-post from travel journal - enjoy!

the keep...

the blinding edge of reality

suffers not the me of me

when darkness wraps my heart in love's eternity

and ravens black in forests deep

bemuse themselves in sorrow's keep

.

.

.

the gypsy seer...

she lives in a time
unknown by most
a time when love
is her life’s host

she travels a road

less walked by most

a trail through hills

and down the coasts

she dreams in colors

not seen by most

and spends her days

with rainbows close

she sees in visions

not had by most

and paints her thoughts

in gold grandiose

she dies a death

not shared by most

and winds her way

with kindred

ghosts
.
.
.

i am certain of nothing but...

the holiness of the heart's affections

and the truth of the imagination

.

.

.

the secret place...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

there is

a road

in the hearts of all of us

hidden and seldom traveled

which leads to

 

 

an unknown secret place

 

 

the fix...

it was true.....
in nights blackened by sins of the day
she stole silently into the vermillion chambers of his heart
where all his treasures he kept
treasures he shared with but few
and then, only because he had to
and he did have to
share
because without sharing
his magnificent vermillion chamber
would surely burst
explode
rip apart
from the weight
the weight of all his magnificent thoughts
thoughts that like a caterpillar became even more magnificent
thoughts that magnificently became magnificent words

words
ah, his words
words of the wizard
the word wizard
words that stirred in her things inexplicable
things unknown
unseen
unfelt
before
words
words that erupted in her soul like a volcano too long dormant
words that once read – once heard –
left her wanting
wanting more
and more still
words that soon became her crystalline clarity
her drug of choice
her fix
words that she had to have
words that her soul would have slept with satan to have
words that her heart would have – must have – else lose its beat

and so it was that on those sin blackened nights
she stole silently into that vermillion chamber of the word wizard’s treasures

there - where she languished among the tender mercies of his gentleness

there - where she basked in the intellectual brilliance of his mind
there - where she opened wide her womancave for the roving words of his passion

there - where she lay with him in fields of crimson poppies as he mouthed words of love
there - where she became who she had always been

there
there in the vermillion chambers of his heart
there - where she found what she craved
what she could not
would not
live without

there

where she was his

and his alone

yes – there

there

where

she

was

 his

word whore

.

.

.

- to all those magnificent words that gently wing their way here from far far away -
.
.
.