Want (Love) -Poem

want

i want to feel loved. i want to feel loved. i want to pretend... that we are in love.

the next day i want the euphoria of it on me

like a dream

no attachment to it

just a smile across my lips

a glaze over my eyes... as if I just woke from dreaming

what do i want?

i want breif love

i want passion and sensuality

i want to be cared for as a person

and when we aren't physical, we talk and enjoy each others company.

and when we are physical, we don't fuck or have sex; we 'make love'

i don't want my other half. i want compatable.

i want someone i can hold onto for now

to love

to pretend i'm in love

just to have something right now

cuz I feel so starved

that my soul is aching

for a spark to ignite my life

for a joy so bountiful that I can fill my heart with it and feel whole

and I want someone to remind me of my greatness

and I want someone to care for

i want someone to dance with

when there is no music playing

i want to know where the constellations are in the sky

i want a reason to look at them and wonder

if someone sees the same stars, is watching the same moon

I want to know that if I will cry, that there will be someone to hold me

that they can bring me to happy giddiness, so that I learn again to cry for joy

to laugh so hard my sides ache

Want (Love) -Poem

want

i want to feel loved. i want to feel loved. i want to pretend... that we are in love.

the next day i want the euphoria of it on me

like a dream

no attachment to it

just a smile across my lips

a glaze over my eyes... as if I just woke from dreaming

what do i want?

i want breif love

i want passion and sensuality

i want to be cared for as a person

and when we aren't physical, we talk and enjoy each others company.

and when we are physical, we don't fuck or have sex; we 'make love'

i don't want my other half. i want compatable.

i want someone i can hold onto for now

to love

to pretend i'm in love

just to have something right now

cuz I feel so starved

that my soul is aching

for a spark to ignite my life

for a joy so bountiful that I can fill my heart with it and feel whole

and I want someone to remind me of my greatness

and I want someone to care for

i want someone to dance with

when there is no music playing

i want to know where the constellations are in the sky

i want a reason to look at them and wonder

if someone sees the same stars, is watching the same moon

I want to know that if I will cry, that there will be someone to hold me

that they can bring me to happy giddiness, so that I learn again to cry for joy

to laugh so hard my sides ache

Confessions/Devotion

my first mistake was not baring my heart with a sense of calm glory. cowardly I hid my love, my affection, and forgot my once brave and spiritual self.
my second mistake was forgetting my ill habits. forgetting myself in the process of trying to not care, not love, not be concerned, not be unhappy, not be disagreeable, and in the process...forgetting to relax and be me, as a free child, not as a restricted silly teen.
my worst mistake was leaving my source of power. my calm, peace, divine. of starving myself spiritually for days, weeks... and letting myself slowly become lost and cracking and broken...
my fourth mistake was to not listen and watch closely, with eyes and arms and heart wide open to recieve whatever came my way. to recieve an understanding of another being.


but I know who I am. what a cruel thing to expect others to know it, or to try and show me it. I do love me. and will continue this love affair with myself. I will ask only of the sky, the trees, the wind, the ocean, the stars.... they are my dancing romances, they are my listening ears, they are my arms and limbs my cold and hot, my embraces, and my tears.
and God can know me, let Krishna hold me in his arms, let me dance with the gopis, completely immersed in my devotion.


all night long, through my sorrow, the Durje spear of light came through my shadowed, weary, torn mind. into my heart the music flowed, a symphony drowning the aching human thoughts hammering my skull, the blue lotus feet above me and my arms wound around the neck of my Beloved. everything was lotus, was pure love, no emotion no thoughts beyond this ever-expanding, all-consuming love. washing over me was the blue light, the orange silk caressing my skin, the Paramahansaji pouring wave after wave of love into my starving, thirsty heart. all that I need. all that I love. all that is to exist and to not exist in this world...
whatever else there is can be revisited, as a dream. but this is the most alive, the most free, the most real I ever feel.
in the lap of the Divine Mother. in the arms of Krishna, in the beautiful laughter of my Guru.....

It's Your Viscious Cycle -RAP/Spoken Word/Poem

when you give a damn

about the winding of your running motor

don't wanna stall. i want to have it all.

i want

full metal-grinding-metal

get me stuck within your carbon transfer

and i am so so

rattled.

if I give a damn.

that car door got shut. but the motors still running.

the light dimmed a while ago.

and I'm standing out here in the cold

looking at the stars to take me home.

like you give a damn.

I don't want to feel that oil

I don't want to get near that flame

combustion an assumption you make

with the tips of thrusting fingertips

while you are between my thighs

forgetting my eyes burning into your skull

icing over the ceiling

holding back that falling rain

turning it to snow

and all is white

soft powder pommeled into hard ice.

isn't it nice? slipping and sliding

and gliding into me

and I am pushing myself back

because

I don't think we know a damn

thing about this convoluted suspension

that sparks a second before we come

together, and when you look at me

I see yuor eyes hypnotized like a

gazelle in headlights

and I'm driving

and your steering

and I'm humming my motor still going I don't know the photo to look at which way am I going? can I take you there?

but you stare.

at my chest my hips my thighs my lips or my lips oh my eyes...

they've seen better days better men better moments.

and forgotten in a summer holiday I don't give a damn.

because

it is easier to forget the soft touch and the slow tongue curling

when you bury yourself quickly into the scenery and

never look where you're going

til you back out,

and your head tilted back over your shoulder

things could be better if only we were older.

but this is young Spring now

and we haven't blossomed together.

pollen droppings, stained with the sweat of your pleasure

my pleasure. brushed up by the wind

tickling the nape of my neck where you left your sweet mark

in the midst of passion

but in the morning the sunrays remind me,

and it's just too hard to

give a damn

and it's just too hard to wait for your love to come down from the sky and

melt my frozen rain, to relax into the

simple nights of laying beside the stars and dreaming Earth and its loving circular motions, as your lips meet mine in the middle of thought,

as if a second prayer were needed before the dawn comes and we both wrestle ourselves from covers and admire the gooseflesh upon eachothers gentle skin when all night we have been sleeping and all night we have been moving in a dream and the wind comes to chill us

we gather closer

we come together.

but your head is heavy and I fear my thoughts will burden your shoulders

and the car is running outside, woken from its chilled sleep

and I have to go now. to take to the roads ceaselessly churning as rapids crashing and moving.

to chase after moonlight and escape the coming morning's dams breaking.

a sunny side to the left.

"After All" and "Picture Frame" -2 Love Poems

After all...
He was the only one I cried for Joy for.

He was the only one who, when I left, I thanked God I had had this experience with him.









can you bring me back/ can you sail me back/ fly me hard/ pull my wings from my back/
can you bring me back/ to the brink of my being/ I want inside outside/ inbetween/ I want/ sweet sweat/ on fire-tongued bodies/ I want/ your spark of sunlight.
can you steal me back/ can you melt me through/ can you erupt in me/ what I feel for you/
can you
make it work/ create a master plan/ I'll remember your arms/ and sail to your land/
and I'll love you/ til the end of my days/ yes I'll love you/ in my own way/ and I'll love you/ though the thoughts turn to stone/ unchanging and solid/ and yet we still roam.
to this I decree/ a memory treasured/ I held it within me/ remembered to remember/ and darling I'll remember/ I won't let it die/ whatever you want/ I still have/
those beautiful days/ and those enchanted nights.


(Picture Response)

when you framed us,/ color to silver shadows,/ contrasting the royal print of each/ architecture defined in pixel perfect symmetry/ did you artfully manicure each corner of our faces/ to fit into eachothers embrace?/ or was it just the placement/ of a hand slipping perfectly/ along the curve of my jaw/ "he/ holding her/ comme une fleure"/ somewhere in the shadows on cheeks/and the curved splinters of light/ that shine through our eyes lashes/ we share our peace/ curving round the lips/ we come together./ you are the man you will be/ in this photograph of two people/ in one place/ one emotion./ the tip of your tongue/ is slipping foreign memories/ into my mouth/ of romance/ moonlight/ the bustling city of L.A./ is speaking German.

in his eyes the sun flashes/ illuminating the soul beneath the skin/ so fragile/ so easily torn/ but beautiful/ resiliant/ radiant even in sleep./ I see him dreaming/ caressed by black locks of hair/ my fingertips trailing/ the white cotton sheet/ tangled between his legs./ strong hands/ gentle and fueled by passion/ a red rose is held in the fume of his lips/ the flame teasing gently/ at the woodnymph he carries/ on the cusp of his hip./

but his boy hands/ and soft skin/ tasting of indian spices/ drenched in the soft sticky sweat of/ sweet wine/ skin the color of rust/ golden sunsets on a never bordered horizon/ Belgian chocolate soft melted heat/

My heart unfolds/ lotus blossom opening/ sweet aroma of devotion/ sparkling in ripples/ between the moments of our union./ my eye always catching/ a faint ray of light./ we sit still on the edge/ of a cliff facing oceans/ facing West/ the electrified current of our hearts/ praying./

the salt crystals on skin/ "my mermaid" he tells me/ the waves crashing

in the dark/ shadows erupting from pockets of light/ our inner flames bursting/ in poetic echoes of/ desire and/ naive love/ ignorant of where it will lead/ from one day/ to the year next/ when I find you again/ beneath a starless/ indigo sky/ and the moon sings to you/ to lay beside me/ and the curve of my hip/ speaks to you of womanhood/ warmth and hot blood/ the calm persuasion of my eyes/ and the quick wit in my tongue./ your slow coming smile/ spreading across your stare/ revealing the boy/ and discovering the man/ I had not left the young summer last/ for to me/ even your stubble is erotic/ and your spoken words/ of which mean nothing/ without the translation of your heart/ are what filled me/ with inconceivable portraits/ of blue-lotus happiness/ of dancing Krishnas/ of Yogananda's multifold laughter./ Divine punchlines/ running through my spirit/ broke-open with joy.

left glowing/ in the picture we took/ the girl who learned love/ the boy seeing beauty/ the man learning/ unexpected/ the taste of pure sweetness/ the woman knowing patience/ learning to keep the memory genuine/ unjudged/ uncompared./ til the day in a summer/ as Time learns the difference/ between what it can change/ and what is always kept./

Pensive Dreaming

sometimes i feel pensive

and i find a place within me where my soul pulls like anchors to the depths of my being./ my heart beats/ drumming softly on the spiked door of my chest./the eyes I have mean nothing/ the space before me/ air/energy/frenzied miracle./ and I sit without knowing where my body lies/ time pushing the skin/ to rot/slowly and gently/ though my thoughts defy age/ or perhaps are relics/ of ancient existence.

it feels as if there is no torment. no false life. no partition of existing consciousness/ between good and bad/ and light and dark/ the shadow has no meaning./ the spark does not ignite./ and both simply are.

our friend the sky doesn't seem so sad tonight/ as it looks up at us from the gravel at our feet/ as it curls the hair on our forehead with its winded breath/ as it watches the circles form around our mind from above./ and the sun is just an explosive illusion/ a place to go home to/ when we're done burying ourselves./ and the sea is only a mother/ whose tides are the wrath/ of losing too many children/ to the earth./ to the human wastelands/ of forgotten dreams./ of misplaced identities/ like children who can't remember/ the address or phonenumber/ to their home/ so they wander/ without another to show them the way.

I hear that whisper myself, sometimes. "I can tell you the answers, but I can't walk your path home"/ and I know I am one of thousands/ "in a forest of loneliness"/ each side by side/ rarely to touch.

but then I forget who this is/ that I have built/ for my convenient lie./ Then I lift up/ and dreamily I watch/ my body breathe and move/ "what a dream to be living, for those of us dead/ Only those who are dying realize/ what it is to lose"/ is written on the wall of my room/ some ghost has put it there/ and I cannot find what pen/ could have marked it/ so indiscretely/ that I have never seen it before.

The body stirs/ and my mind is just an ocean I swim in/ just a mother waiting for her children to come home/ the neurons firing/ some day exploding into brilliance./ my flame coloured son of thoughts/ returns to me slowly/ dragging his feet/the earth turns blue/ in recognition./ even so, as the monarch butterly's/ wings touch air/ she lays her eggs/ and kisses them farewell/ and whispers a prayer/ that it will not hurt too much/ to break the cocoon she has woven/ and perhaps it is she that will pop free from the shell/ for she has already died/ as the child is being born.

and it is all a dream,/ in any other way of speaking,/ it was all just a thought.