Have we been replaced?
the crumpled being in the corner mumbled,
to a jury of peers
who in quiet realize,
believe they will never allow themselves …
Yet his clothes are shabby,
the same pinstripe with a Jerry Garcia tie
pink button down oxford, and well-shined shoes,
he possessed years earlier,
during that last summit,
the day he resigned from today’s society.
Still, no one wonders where he is,
why he became,
how a life can turn beyond,
the normalcy of the human condition.
The new normal some might argue,
he might argue,
she might not care anymore,
given all the energy she spent defending
a frame of mind,
he no longer understood, or chose to wonder …
The idealism in surprise,
the beauty of spontaneity,
the sacrifice of one’s own belief system,
in order to complement
We are all too easily duped
by pretty sights,
and warm surroundings,
to such a degree of departure,
we sometimes do forget …
the crumpled man in soft murmurs.
There are places we like to be,
to find, to allow our selves to evolve
while others walk about totally unaware
of cathartic dreams.
Perhaps the man in crimson rendezvous is suffering,
yet all eyes would only imagine,
his to be an outward glance
toward a unique fire in his mind.
There is always love in the midst of pure artistic restraint,
caught in the canvas of our own study,
the desire to know, to understand,
to interpret wholly the reason being.
I walked inside an auditorium only to witness
beauty arise, brought me upon a newer plane,
a place where all our lives,
are meant to thrive within the dimensions allowed.
So do you walk, appreciate the grace of freedom,
the mind is gravy to the shadows
that take us on different paths,
yet seem to meet in the surreal atmosphere.
We are together always in tune,
in wonder, in delicious delight, akin
our lives, hearts, finding soul in rest,
will continue sweet illusion is love.
May not, cannot, will not,
I shant imagine otherwise,
whilst the world itself
in heartfelt harmony
if I am to presume,
I will not know you well.
For the sanctity of a privacy,
life does grant opportunity,
yet only the beauty of grace
allow any deep felt sanity.
In words your magic is alive
in the pictures drawn,
the notion I derive,
yet apart, afraid, away from me,
I must realize the peace it be.
Cherish only the remarkable passion
we all live together, in want of fashion.
I choose the highlands
that reach toward the sky,
I live to know the heights
where my soul might linger
in a sweet peace of this world,
where it is I am in destiny,
the travels of my mind.
I know so little of what is time,
can only wish and dream perhaps
there might be a delight in line
for all of our heart felt agony.
I wonder often of failure
how the remark contains me
if it were just only a test
a limitless horizon of humanity
would it be so powerful then
once I might understand pathways.
I was once a child of a decade
where screen doors and trails,
soft breeze and playful friends
hot summers and weekend skis
the wisp of romance quite vivid
in the eyes of an older sib.
I remember then when life
could be as transparent as
the picture window in my home.
What happened to muddy the glass,
where is when I did suddenly
come to terms with losing idyllic
prayer and spiritual guidance?
How did I get to be so critical
of simply my own sacred humanity?
Why is it when I wake in the morning sun
my dreams become a starker reality,
a place where hope and beauty
always measured, isn’t a natural
course of my day’s mechanics?
I was watching you one evening
the music pounding my ears,
my body writhing to the rhythm,
yet you miles away in the heights
celebrating love, exploding sensuality
if I could lift my heart to you
like the potion driven magic
of my favorite never found chemist,
might I then find my peak,
while settling into ethereal arms
of passion and grace, would I with a smile
glance upon that valley of my dreams.
*photo credit – allen parseghian
Whispers in quiet,
she glances, eyes serene
leans over her, touches
cheek with lips,
purposeful strength, will,
brief yet so intense,
long enduring eyes on eyes
the only connection
his cock moving inside her lips,
remembering when patience was easy.
Each line drawn specific
open space designed
in quiet embrace
simple on purpose
connect captured lives
when first parallel
next longing variable
yet all contained