True Beckons

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Rally thy men ye olde star
Creep not that light unto my bed!
Shall not be smeared by folly, tar,
by truer beckons must be led.
In derelict, the house of prism
no longer can the gleam refract;
Lest harmony becomes it schism
the pit — the rays must oft retract.
Retreat is in a silhouette
When blazing marvels shadows glaze—
All prophecies themselves abet
As looming darkness turns their gaze.
Amused those ever flowing lies,
Control they gain, the masses bound:
Resolved a soul that falsifies!
If heaven lost, then hell is found.

Fancied Fallacies

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What of this word: a protocol
From which we must not deviate
Lest made aligned against our soul—
A luminous immoral state.

Or, rather, what of holy laws—
To which the snake still owes its chest
The people all their earthly flaws—
When stars against black holes are pressed.

Please tell, can love become futile
Where faltered steps, routine they turn?
Like this, these thoughts, we tread, defile
O God, O man, O dying sun.

Alas! To burn— A lust of old
As breezing is for nature’s fire;
And yet, no miracles unfold
If live our wont, to death desire.

A Tempestuous Course

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I guess it is this time of year
when broken things are lashing out—
Shattered bodies, awry they steer
like ships at night, a foundered doubt.

The raging sea, its waves once still,
With ferocity it batters—
A splintered hull, a wooden wheel—
Shapeless truths, the darkened waters.

Against the rocks of weathered rhymes
And salty winds that secrets sigh,
We all must hunch, and ebb, at times
before the elements defy.

Abated, now, the seething storm
To which the living owe their path:
When raptures in the fray reform
If God forgives, in God we trust.

Fettered Moons

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We satellites are made elapsed
By twinkling stars, alway:
In light exist, in time collapsed!
All matter must decay.

What goes around oft coalesce
Into a lasting thought:
Beyond the heavens more is less
If hell is what we sought.

Yet here on earth forever bound,
Our fleeting feelings wade.
Alas! when souls forsake their ground
All memories must fade.

Stainless Still

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Sheath thy shame, this poem varnish,
foil aches wherefrom the truth I wield:
Unconcealed — aerated tarnish!
metallic fists, thus clasp and yield.

Hence we must be barred asunder
Till time dissolves the soldered vain—
Galvanic feats, drained their wonder;
Caustic ions discharge their gain.

You shed a tear for me in ploy
my iron gates, the steel forfeit.
The salt had dried my heart’s alloy,
and dried, your own, I cannot sate.

Shall never blissfully unwind
Against the decades long since past.
But if I ever you remind
Corrode our love, embrace the rust.

The Poet’s Grace

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About myself shall never rhyme
Nor right have I to this aspire;
These words, by right, are others’ prime
For whom, and which, I them transpire.

In flesh, I come, unto this world,
The pen but marks the poet’s grace:
Its spark I use these faces mold,
Every detail put in place.

This city wears the skies’ disguise,
A point in space where dreams transfuse—
Oft like the sun, by which, I rise
And hence, forever, draw my muse.

O when the day shall come to pass
The last of stars exhausts its light;
These words unfold, and so—amass
Their memory shall cast the night.

Blooming Away

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Confront you I cannot, again,
To written words, instead, adhere.
In sentences, our love, I feign
Sincerities, my heart, they sear.

Upon abandoning the past
I can recall your ebbing eyes—
No longer rue that could not last—
This wishful joy, the faint disguise.

Alas! those dreams of you sojourn
A presence touched by ancient times;
My love for you I must adjourn,
A shattered bell, my heart still chimes.

My memories of you upheave
Whispering feelings left inhumed.
And when I must this city leave,
Remember that for you they bloomed.

 

The Words I Lay

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Those words of mine, they often lie
To say the things I cannot say;
To touch upon your naked thigh,
And render thoughts into decay.

All thoughts absent, the vigor strong,
Your gentle touch shall me redeem:
As I your body cast in song
Awash my own, celestial stream.

The deed is done, wherefore we part,
Divide we must when dries the spring;
Although to me you cede you heart,
My love to you will never cling.

My moaning soul, O deep its cleft,
It looks for love in earthly creeks—
It flows on lies till nothing’s left;
Like water, rocks, it wets and slicks.

By the Bonfire

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Tis April when the moon is full
And spring dictates a strange desire;
Our souls, together, it will pull
To meet, again, erect a pyre.

Beneath the twinkling stars unite
Acquaintances both far and close.
Against the wind the fire ignite
To justify a sacred cause.

To put ablaze all that we spurn
And find new meaning in the flame:
Unequal born, as equals burn
One soul, one heart, we melt the same.

The earth rotates, aglow with chars,
Which soon become the rising sun—
A manifest of countless stars
As always when the night is done.

Words and Numbers

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In dreams we chance, my friend of old,
Wherein there is still room for guile:
Your countless freckles, lies betold;
Your smile approves of shared denial.

And when I wake, no longer care
That mathematics was your choice;
That frozen numbers were your flare
As much as I in words rejoice.

Upon each spring that comes around—
Soft breeze, it bears sweet pollen’s smell.
A reminisce of sight and sound
Of childhood gone, a distant knell.

And now as winter flowers bloom,
The distance is too long to stride.
Departing of past friendship’s gloom
Till words and numbers must collide.