The mathematician, the poet, and the girl

We three sat in the booth, dark, and with character,
The bar boomed and gloomed around us.
The words spewed from the stage and mocked the page
And spattered insults sprayed from his teeth.

Bottoms up

I
Want to feel you
Feeling me.
Touches
Of your tongue send
Tiny shivers up my back
As you flick your lick
Around and around,
Up, Oh, down
Through me,
Inside me.

I
Want to touch you
Touching me
Fingers
Move over my loneliness
Making us squirm
In the desire
Around and around
Up, Oh, down
Through me, inside me.

I
Want to love you
Making love to me
Pulsing
Your largeness though
My area of sensual
Embracing, embracing
Around and around
Up, Oh, down
Through me, inside me

I

I, I want

You
Through me, inside me.

The Desires of a Tree

Roots have waned and I begin to you now.
The dirt crumbles at my base and I stretch up
Reaching with every fiber in my branches
I have no ties now, keeping me grounded.
Soon I may be able to jump!

Oh the thought, to move along,
I swoon in the stale breeze in frozen dreams,
Thawing now in the pure desire
(A day to pass it all, and leave),
Heating my core, my entity.

The nights grow warm again, and the mud encasing
My trivial shackles retreats in battle.
Deeply, I breath, inhaling, almost tasting
The day when I can come and feel you.
I hold and risk all for that moment, you.

‘It is almost time,’ exposed roots tell me.
For they pop out of the ground, laying there
Mocking my past; white limp digits!
Tickled now in grass as a child, dumb.
They hold no power over me.

Last one, I’m nearly free and jubilant
Just one more stretch and, Glee!
The ground holds me no longer, My Love.
I topple over and begin to crawl
Brittle and wooden, I move not.

I become thirsty and crave what’s now lost,
The taste of nutrient foundations
Gone now, my home, tributary of life
I have planted and I have forsaken.
Fear consumes me, and I die in vain.

Today is Not the Day

Today is not the day that I come to him
Remember a bond and run to him
Wrap my arms and lips, be one with him
Today is not the day.

Tonight is not the night that I lay with him
Cuddle for warmth and stay with him
Curl my toes and kiss and hold him
Tonight is not the night.

This life is not the life for me to share with him
Pass my years going strong with him
Wrinkled flesh for me to give him
This life is not the life.

.....There is not another stanza

Love is Blind

Look upon my face;
The smiles, the frowns.
Laughter bringing wrinkles
Of memories unforgotten.
Look upon my soul;
The emotions, the past
Tears staining cheeks
Of sorrow in all times.
Look upon my being
The assets, the imperfections
Yearning for excitement
Of another to hold.
Look upon me
See what I want
You to see. You see
Nothing for love is
Blind. Love is
Blind. Love is.

Haiku: Without a Purpose

Without a purpose
We wander naked in cold,
Darkness to nowhere.

Mr. Valentine Man

Mr. Valentine Man,
Our hearts’ hit by your arrow.
Together, we both know
Bulls-eye’s Love’s companion.

Despite the kin and kithe,
Our love entwined will flourish;
The rebel sparrow unleashed
Thus then, no other can smithe.

We needn’t any saving charms,
Our secret is helped along
By bond encircling, so strong
As we lie in each others arms.

Affections will do, all in night
Our mouth, ‘hush, hush’ the strife
Daylights’ the bladed knife
Careful to be all right.

For those knifes I swallow
Our soul, captured not in blood,
Gives way to tears of joy-filled flood
And the Sparring War won’t follow.

We have but one quiet plan
Our life, to soar like Sparrow
We needn’t a protecting arrow
Mr. Valentine Man.

The Huntress

I envy the Huntress.

Red bowed and arrowed, she waits.

Pacifists and anarchists rage,

And wage war, for more to shed

Of life fluids from our brothers.

Stalking in the shadow, she waits.

Jealousy of her consuming entity,

I rathe and scathe in want to be her captor.

To grab her long dreaded hair, and pull

Adorned with a red fowl’s mark.

To graze her tattooed skin, quiver

My touch is soft, my fingers linger.

To slap her dirty face, see eyes,

A fire in them, look for mercy.

To have knees bent at my feet-

Total, unalienable, righteous

Control.

Untitled [The horizon looks back at us]

The horizon looks back at us
Over waves of washed back teardrops,
Fallen from dead hearts, broken.
Squinted, through the rays, heartaches
Blister the eyes that persevere
Seeking the serendipity once lost,
Surrendered to the fate
Of mistakes yet not learned;
The ones we cannot forget,
Haunting rays.
The horizon looks back at us,
Smiling, for fate is ambiguous.

Haiku: The Storm

The quiet before
The storm arouses wandered
Thoughts of solitude.

WORW #4

The only difference between a paradox and a hypocracy
is someone catching it before you do.

Leader of Man

I am not a leader of man
And I sit here and ask who
Will see things the way they will mend
And then they never do.
I want my little place on this earth
To sit back and cry
For the people that regret my birth
Until the day I die.
You’ll see the things I’ve left
All bottled up inside;
You will leave me no place of rest
No place to hide.
Running from your monster machine
Fuelled by your very own fear,
Of what things ought to be
If you accept what you see and hear.
I pulled the covers over my head
When I heard you shout.
I have tried to stay in bed
To make happiness throughout.
I cant stand it-
-I must stand up
For belief over fight.
You’ll drink from my bleeding cup;
I’ll overcome you, if only in night.
I am not a leader of man,
And I sit here and ask why
You judge me to the very end
Drinking tears of my cry.
You’ll see, I’ll overcome you
And your monster machine.
I’ll bring a light of new
Without a zealous gleam.
I am not a leader of man
But I sure am gonna try
I’ll put an end to your monster machine
Only then will I fly.

The Mountain

Am I dead?
The answer whispers
As dew-filled cobwebs hum in
The morning breeze.
I struggle to listen, but the
Echoes of the bullet
Crash through my being.


Shattering silence to the summit,
My want to listen is dwarfed by the
Omnipresent need to be heard,



But the words are lost to my memories
With me for me by me
Shall I be heard at the peak
Or shall my voice be lost in distance?
Clouds struggle for presence, nothing more.

I am lost in the ecstasy of
Past emotion, mixing fervently; tossing
Ruptured pieces from the rocky slope.


The wind feels good
Something sets in and I reach forth, seeing
Nothing, no rules, recognition; the
Endless stretch of an empty sky
Consumes my fingertips
I reach back and cry.



My tears fall, becoming a storm.
Cloudless and quiet; wet a rainbow
Quiet now, the answer whispers louder…

Am I dead?
Cobwebs dance.

Words Of Random Wisdom (WORW) #13

May the love of a friend help you find truth...
May the love for yourself give you strength to accept it
when its found.

A Love Poem

Are you aware of where the sky begins and the sea ends?
Looking out on the horizon,
Seeing nothingness stretch out its welcoming arms;
Blue on blue, looking back as us without a clue.
Ponder this question, for it too, has no answer

Untitled [I looked for Love in a Hole Once]

I looked for love in a hole once.
First, rocks were overturned by my quest;
Trees fought, uprooted in agony of my search.
The calming omnipresent wind mocked me as I
Stood and screamed for Atlas’ help;
Who better than the Titan of Burden.
No answer, as I suspected.
I peered over the edge of that dirty,
Grassy burrow. The wind sang as it
Wisped over that mysterious opening,
A breath over the jugs‘ orphus.
Crumbled dirt and pebbles succumbed to its depth,
The sweet smell of mud and wet grass exhaled upon my face;
My knees grew wet from the ground, tribute to rain past.
My muddy palms inched closely to the barrier of light and
Darkness of the abyss below.
I squinted, leaned back and sat, lost in thought.

Hungry

Pestilent pretenders grapple for first place.
Hard bodied, and coked up. They fight for the all-illicit
Award of ‘Faggot of the Year.’
We are all the players and the judge.
We climb the mount, summit’s sight, we claw and scratch,
But no more a rock to climb than the insecurities
And ill-willed bequeaths of the queens of the Scene.
Lost, as those boys seeking to find their truth in the baggies
And syringes and rocks and raves find…
Found: a dichotomous life;
To see and be Scene.
To seek and be sought.
To know and be known
As a lover without love.
I find a scraped and worn, tattered cynicism,
Tipped and known on the tongues of these
Blind mendicants as the sense of diligence,
Encouragement,
Persistence through the tempest
Fall asunder in this self made storm.
We fight, and claw and surpass and
Lay surpassed by the next
Best hard bodied coked out
Midas of self-deplore.
Blame has no place here,
My fellow mendicant,
For we do not bludgeon each other.
Only a self is inflicted by this disease,
Only a perpetuator is the victim.
Found: a voracious life,
Hungry.

Hermit

Creatures of Hermetic journeys,

Carry not, the truth of this world.

They know it from a light

Unlike that of All.

Sharing nothing but the pinhole box,

They crawl and claw to get a glimpse

A tiny sliver of the light, outside the box.