Shield

Upon the shiver, they didn’t understand that we are shields meant for protection and no sacrifice too inordinate in our blueprints of defensiveness towards them. We transform into a magnum force inexplainable by your fulcrums and scientific theory of relativities, except to say that some potency inspires from heart and connections that only heaven can fathom.

Be whomever assailant or delinquent stray come your way, will take hunter’s sword without question. And seeing the fire in my eyes, they heard me firmly say, do you not know who I am? And the red herrings retreated with apologetic shame, and stepped backwards into lairs. Like vigilante, we fiercely them guarding, till blessed with last breath, unrelenting. 

Pariah

silhouettes slide against the counter side, predicaments that follow the lure of her eyes. moments post darkness to fuel her sunrise, daring to taste a fiery climb. copious panting electrified, by panther in midnight's kindled disguise. transfixed into summit from trespassing ties, how liaison conjures both elysian and demise. still pariah inoculates to solicit the high, gushing upon a sweltering plight. delphian rendezvous glint ignites, as her primrose skin by inch defined. for she will dwindle breathlessly blithe, while once machiavellian, you turn addict inside...

Surrender

to be unconscious. but thinking. was walking. undisclosed location. silent. across unknown plains. amid dark terrain. inside me. in narrow places. constrained. arranging ways. escape. to slight delay. mayhem awaits. tight rope my existence. away. set a float candles. in shallow water lay. a flight of phoenix burning. hallowed ground churning. slow suffocate by plight created. fire smolders inward to fight crowned peril. still kneel to surrender. crippled. then sudden saw. the vision. at the end of the tunnel. an unusual sight. the light my eyes could not accept. but it beckoned. inside me. amid dark terrain. across unknown plains. silent. undisclosed location. was walking. but thinking. to be awakened.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Reaping

Subtly seeking, quietly peeking--
I sense you reaping what I sow.
Ignited feeling, severely appealing--
You dare not confess, but still I know.
Sheer concealing, visceral being--
You study mouth, but kiss the words.
Dual meaning, inner seeing--
You assume indifference, yet you love.

Soar

From opposite island shore, I'd quietly watched your waters curve and fall. And adoring the sound of aqua, I bridges crossed, and crawled on board, not knowing the difference between dive and drown. I was half ready, to behold depth or lose breath, but enthused nonetheless, because I beautifully boroughs leapt. Yet in the escapades of wading through your waves, I failed to realize that most fires squelch, once become wet. Still thinking we kept similar perspective, the shared sorrows of sinking ship, I let submerge my passion's breadth with an assimilated reluctance. Then one day, after years adrift, I felt a shift, like a faint sense of earth's rotation beneath my self. And as I glanced over, the distance between shore and water extended, and called out to me desert winds instead, desiring to carry dark haired rebel back to states of transcendence. Through prayers made for me with palms connected, I soon found myself, standing across the bridges end, riddled with deep and dry reflection, and a mirrored image that now afforded me recollection of both sides of the coin. And even though choosing heads and tails was not in my hands, the private designs of life's mystique printed on me have always remained, like tribal henna proclaimed. For some gardens we lay amid, and others we are ourselves. And truly we would not have remembered our prowess had they not made us recall, that some flowers survive thousand leagues under the sea, and some there may suffocate all along. And surely we would not know freedom, till someone did not throw us out from water back into sapphire air to soar. For unbeknownst, we had been flipped inside out, with flame doused, but were always phoenix flared, firecracker waiting to burst, longing to be awoken from nautical lair, to be strewn like charcoal ashes, like kajal wild in eyes smeared, into the great unknown...    
                                                                     

Enigma

They ask-- why carve we partial portrait, why disclose just image half, why conceal in gripping shadows, when can feed with open hand? Well-- have you impartiality to embrace a smoky black, aware that crushed diamonds can too appear as ash? And that enlightenment might reside behind even the darkest mask, or shall you contrive us new identity through rosy colored glass? Have you not witnessed twilight cradled in heaven's lap, or took pleasure in solstice once the torrents pass? Then why not indulge in night how you sipped from summer's chalice, and drink nocturnal nectar from an ever-flowing flask? For at times we are veiled galaxy, and some days aurora clad-- still how can you savor truth, if first enigma have not had?

Jewels

Glistening dreams hid inside each strand but they did not see them, so carelessly, as we looked away at things in distances, they secretly cut at the dark tresses. Simply senseless, but for them, their existence was a distraction, reminders of reckless whims and fevered interactions, of flowing tenderness cascading on top of them, in times when they did lack resistance. And though unaware of their reaction, we were not left defenseless, with half our locks riddance-- for with time, we silent think and take in, till the mind arisen, in ways both transparent and clandestine, an insight-- like that of the moon reflecting off waters, and we eagerly jumping in, to find that the light we seek turned into transient falls of fragrant effervescence, and we drenched to chin where once blue moonlight danced, but now captured bright essence in two pupils instead. So we let bygones be such for them who passed before then-- for it is this crossing of path, this secret pillaging and slashing at our back, that soon has us filled from within, born again, with no aversion towards them, for even the pillager deserves second chance, as do we forgiveness, for indulgences in innocence and ignorance. Still, as seasons collide and pass, we now find ourselves, melting like melody against harmonies sang, bathed in primrose scents, the kind once dreamed up and in tresses wrapped. And new locks grown in graceful movements-- for we are now sensuous sultry strands, diamond encrusted end to end, with blue jewels that have us soon ascend...

Veritati

Unexpected at best, when for moments met in silver boxes descending, enclosed in warm compression. And though such collision should have been suspected, being both rare and reoccurring, we were unprepared to take it in-- and so it still felt like a coronary hijacking, a jolt upon sighting, except each instance with a silver lining-- that they, inadvertent, unknowing, lured and drew upon senses, bringing closer with misguided glances. And while there was chance to exchange a word, what catches tongue is a thumping prolonged in throat, by an irony of coincidental juxtaposition in same place once noted to annihilate lips. And this very thought now prohibits the raising of sight from floor, while veritably provoked by hazelnut eyes with glints of topaz inside, burnt sienna hair, and almond skin, which could only have been kindled during harvest time, a sense of morality built upon purest bay sides, now standing with back against steel trimmings, with mahogany leather strapped like weapon across shoulder, a modern celtic warrior with the brewing burn of crimson torch engraved on inner being, holding their technological trappings against carnation colored threading, a chimera sewn into thoughts pulsing, and mouth emitting tones that gushed forth slow motion, like molasses flowing out on great hills, glistening from a distance. Still we focused in with subtle resistance, in an attempt to restrain our receptive existence-- for this is how we have kept it, an infinite masquerade intended. And to those who have asked in the past how these musings were crafted, whether these incidences, these figures enthralling, were figments of the imagination, like ingredients from dreams and other mystical factions, or whether they were woven from truth's blazing fabric-- I can only claim that the poetry of one's heart, while sometimes jumping, bolting, and spastic, takes from all parts, both the outside world and inside wealth, and from therewith, a symphony is drafted-- so it is truth filtered then displayed through ambiguity's rose colored, yet somehow blatantly opaque glasses, a place that keeps us protected. And even when we stand in clarity knee deep, we become persistently distracted when certain beauty lies before us, submissive, and raids us in ways that we couldn't dismiss it, as we went down with them, smothered in good intent. With one side of the face hidden, yet grazed with confessions, and the other persistently playing on the pretenses that we made, contemplations laced with vehemence that we dare not let escape, we witnessed overwhelmed with a coyness of which others were unaware, wishing to have the courage to just  brazenly stare. But once released, we kept jaunting ahead, for deo ac veritati were sacred kept. Yet, truth be told, did not forget the mesmeric vision of how like territorial tiger they tread, igniting a rushing, blushing straight to the head, a lingering like the fragrance of crushing carnations coming from my bed-- all stemming from being held in silver boxes, descending, zeal reflecting, presence unexpected, the kind that set five senses melting-- yet don't dare ask, for this mouth is never telling...

 

 

Intensity

had they secretly peered with intensity when pulled we curtains reluctantly? did they longing fall upon their knees, beholding threshold while we withheld keys? did our charcoal ink dark thoughts conceal, keeping the revelations they did duly seek? would they seep inside our mind to feel, the dreamscapes we so slealthfully weave? or will quiet passing of a message discreet, leave them with quandaries of infatuations unceased?

Rapport

If eyes are indeed windows, into our delphic soul, then what is the essence, of this mouth we own? Is it the river, where wade, brash and tender words? Is it a roadway, where bolt, wildest whims of tongue? Is it the backdrop, where freed, dreams relentless roam?  Is it a temple, from where, sacred scripture soars? Is it the scene, which bore, pure and jagged plot? Is it a tryst, between, the mind and yearning heart? Is it rendevous, joining, two in tantric knot? Is it a space, where collided, poetess with juggernaut?

Or is it a phantom zone, where healing bonds are formed, which carry us even closer, to moments waited for?

Still if eyes be the windows, of where we soul explore, surely mouth be the pathway, to our stertorous rapport-- For this point be the portal, whence your primal breath was drawn, and breathless did we leave, coming through each other's doors...

Design

I evanesce, in your cradled heist, devised to allure, this milky pure, to my eye’s delight, lips caress the rim tightly, you watch, the fading, in and out, of dimming candle light, warm to the mind’s sight, head rested, against humanity's reckless plight, of reverie contritely passing by, still caught a glimpse, in your eyes, this mouth, on the cusp of things, both sugar and spice, and theirs brazenly seizing mine-- so sip you did to pass the night, and rendered speechless by design.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Nectar

last night I had a dream. a gentle vision reminding me, of simple things we overlook readily. like the way an autumn leaf is carried by breeze inaudibly, yet splashing colors most vibrantly. like the way a whisper feels when you're sixteen, standing under a shadow where no one could see. like the way raindrops can set you free, streaming down your cheek, then abruptly drenching dewy streaks. like the way we are seized, when pink petals are placed tenderly amid tresses, teasingly, by another’s unrelenting want for your sweet release. and to deem from all of these, the last one to forever be, of the most beautiful urges indeed-- when breath is pressed into waiting wish, like warm wind penetrating a coming spring. for we are nectar by nightingale sipped, like caressed skin by raindrop dripped, like girl neath shadow, fingertip to lips, with her indigo essence bursting within...

Bonfire

Today the sun did pierce through my eyes, and blazed into the blackness, an ambrosial bonfire. And instead of me moving my glances aside, I aspired to watch him grow even brighter. And indeed he turned, to arrive at his highest, and without second thought, pulsed against the snow white. And though she melted, so still did she lie, and took him in, without any respite. And so I inquired, why did she not hide—for his embrace seemed surely a perilous sight. But gentle she smiled, and softly replied, “I truly covet what herewith transpires, and what feels precarious to you, is how he me admires. For balance do we, each others desires-- his heat igniting my senses, my cool quenching his fire…”

Collided

we like silhouettes sometimes peek through screens of shattered glass, as come screeching down cracked tracks, hundreds of our thoughts held captive in tin boxes, like sweetly obsessive-compulsive journeys that run in circles, taking us from one end to another, yet in between the monotony of universal travel, we watch shadows drop beside us, so we glance upwards, and get absorbed by others, with their eyes getting inside us, uninvited, but too late to turn once auras collided-- because life is a station, and mankind but migrants, and some nights you join me, to ride out the darkness...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Tempest

like torrents tracing landscape, lashes fall to face, lips twisting into question, brows like zephyr raised. linked by rampant vision, race our thoughts unnamed, a stillness settles over, before the feral rain. this howling at my window, a tempest left unchained, thunders at the threshold, so stealthily we gaze. before we lowered glances, at juncture ruminate, for even cloaked in caution, we covet gales untamed.

   

Ledges

enigmas, we sometimes soar across rooftops, cascading over urban cliffs, with fingertips at ledges, breathless against the wind, on open track waiting, like rose hues of the skies between the black and blue hovering, withstanding the thousand directions world throws us in, by hanging balanced on a beautiful cobweb of silky dreamscapes, touching the night with sixth senses again...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Cleopatra

night, you sometimes look to me like a bejeweled thief, a Cleopatra with mystic darkness draped, intricate ornaments of diamond, sapphire, emeralds adorned across your ebony hair, wide kajal laced eyes like skies dipped in charcoal paint, as you ride wild dreams in your lair, with starlight worn around ankles of feet bare, your heart racing in your throat in pulsating thoughts, like speeding desires caught at the throttle of a ruby red fiat abarth-- "Andiamo, andiamo," you smoldering call out, your decadence dripping into yearning mouths...

Whisper

just like fireflies nightly flickering, how shards of glass left glimmering, lift us above those daily deliberations haunting, till we are left contemplating just the glare against the darkness, staring back with gentle overbearing, like a whisper dripping through a mirror, saying-- Take me in, take me in, for I am forever slipping, unaware...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Falling

Summer, as your fleeing,

let me retreat freely

beneath your evergreen,

for you're seasonably foreseeing,

my falling into arms of autumn leaves

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Moxie

some days are soft. like dandelions. held against inside of hands. where lines blur. like the ones. between water and sand. I am left. on the brink of defined elation and abstractness. some waves are rough. I am knelt. thinking of uprising and submersion. for one who cannot swim. would she win against tough current? yet still I will dive in. with moxie unrelenting. for torrent waters breed prowess at their calling.

Solstice

Entranced by a beautiful scene. Sand melting beneath my feet. Sultry winds whispering. Summer settles into me...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica, Cape Cod, MA]

Spirit

rays trace across my face. kissing skin in yielding ways. leaving glints within my eyes. a midnight lit by candlelight. like moon once full in slice divides. the spirit shifts as dawn arrived. and through the windows of delight. witness you a different sight. attempt to run and timid hide. still catch you did the other side.

Ascension

melting reflections. soft recollections. aquatic fire. sweeping attention. wished in a dream. yet never mentioned. speculation neath. ambrosial ascension.

 [Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Haze

beautiful warm windy day. softest leaf subtle sway. lay in green till overcame. by sweetest hues of june time haze. now slumber beneath the tender rain.

  [[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]]

Curing

wish I could explain. this sensation. taking over. like a rebel. at the climax of journey. like the trickling of perspiration. falling from your body. a taste which consumes. with sweet fury. masquerade unknowing. steady movements. because I’m ready. eyes locked alluring. you won’t compromise. insisting. defenses down. held my attention lurid. resisted. yet surrendering. to things not understood. in my logic. still somehow become. the way to my curing.

Tomorrow

savage semblance like needles prick. break like porcelain with flick of wrist. fists rail against a solid wall. waterfalls assemble again. clueless and sans temperance. when bright eyes hold frustration in. teeth grit gracious at nightly whim. while scar seeps through the sorest skin. symposium for resemblance if truth is oft deliverance. remediance post 3am, when you dream and I contemplate. twisted thin then numb within. piercing places most unseen. driving to obscenity. fearing I may dissipate. sometimes solitaire by fate. though the dedicated stayed. indulgent ways turn caustic rain. fragile state exhaustion claimed. crackling down to central rage. fire in core does slowly fade. still will gather up the borrowed days. to stand for you when tomorrow came.

Nirvana

closed the door and twisted the lock, thus silence offered at your knock. the only sound a lightning clock, with four walls up and roadways blocked. will sense me not at waiting dock, nor smoky tone of sugared talk. smoldered path once softly walked, lies frozen in a realm of shock. tender steps it weathers not, impaling out the garden’s heart. whilst in a web of thunder rocked, sometimes one yearns a quiet spot. though seems like sleeping beauty’s plot, no talisman at dreamer’s shop. awake, no longer does she wrought, within the throes of figment bought. so hush she now in sleepless thought, till in her hand nirvana caught. relegate the weakest spot. this day your legacy did start. recalled by rapture daily sought, betwixt the gallows breathing hard. rebounds an echo once forgot, your voice resounding-- oh my god.

Tangibility

these scenes some envision in mind streams. yet some things happen beyond what we imagine. that drizzling evening, with borrowed time I walked in. didn’t realize when I came wired, that I would be melted against conflicted, rising flints instead. tamed by a simmered fire unintended. laid unsuspecting, closed expectations upon table left. blindfolded by rebellious trend, but thought at first you derelict. knight or devil how steadily consumed by jasmine perfume you were. moving in but I didn’t know. because it was slow. the warm glow growing with three candles. one set cautiously at my head. one’s heat reaching my mouth. the other to see me breathe out. simultaneously palms read by fingers. opened then shut down. spine tingled into relaxed disposition. and then deep exhales calculated till they were separated by short minutes. yet somehow this need to give in, lingered. let go, I heard in a whisper, like a prescribed order calling submission. anointed, by droplets sizzling across neck. amnesia for moments so to be fed by unknown journeys inflicted. only understood the language of tangibility. of messages transferred from hand to senses. barriers going down. though didn’t allow it. it was happening. one inch at a time. let go. one breath at a time. let go. and I did, moving away, lips bit in half embarrassment, anxious energies. and then, acceptance, from where mouth pursed ever so. below yours, I was let know quietly, something beautiful, haunting, and vulnerable. But as I gathered myself, in the one candle left still on, I wondered what I owed. yet was ushered gently out the rear door. with hair pulled back and searing glance in the eyes. softly intaking your implore-- please come back again. but next time it rains, I will turn away. for I cannot bear being swept astray, in most addictive ways...

Oracle

aura chronicles image clear, still oracles from the iris peer. sometimes the mind divides in halves. yet thoughts crisscross on wave-like paths. one part is torrent. the other withstands. one sound electric. one fading fast. ardor discovers, while logic distracts. one indulges as one retracts. what breathes within, when glancing back? the poetess. the seeker. the fire. the keeper. the shape of her eyes. the quiet retriever. words from her mouth. soft raging appear. whispering voices lingering near. the thinker. forbearer. the vision. the dreamer. the wayward. the prayer. the reflection. the mirror. like distant song, you seem to hear her. she comes this close, then disappears…

Witness

witness the way you're standing strong. with weapon pulled out. pacing with urgent prowl. determined to devour. succumb to vengeance. permeate with dual edged sword. sweet blade once swept against your mouth. now you wish to inflict back ravage mark. so come forth. carve her senses out. back against wall, she's fought you before in thoughts. so with intentions drawn, here you are. colliding like warrior. witness the way she's falling down.

Escape

southern heat in December greets me ever so sweetly here, completely I remember this glistening winter, sun rays falling like snowflakes on hair....

Blue

was it in my thoughts. were you torn. was it just words. was it my fault. to be seated. in front of it. was it my wrong. was it your song. what triggered you. to write this. was it for me. was it for you. I come. as you leave. your letters. in blue. did you need. to kneel. or did you want. to remind. me to?

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Camouflage

One step taken backwards, with golden yellow leaves crackling beneath your feet, you walked up the staircase yesterday, holding her, sighing. Sometimes, the glint in these eyes goes brighter. Dew like honey drops bursting on temples, mind glowing, thrust between hallucination and veracity. In reverse you move, your words turning to symbols, and she regresses into catharsis. Seasons switching like heartbeats, you see the green return to the wreath around her head. Tilting delicate fortress onto careful hand, your ambrosia rejuvenates wilting lips to blushing pink. Lightning bolts inside the iris sparkling, lashes broadening across globes of sight, sinking back to gentle thoughts. Captured sweetly betwixt both infirmity and remedy, is where empress lives, in the committed arms of raw dreams. Time repealed then seized while your expedience surges thoroughly, never realizing that this allegory was indeed a camouflaged reality. Sometimes, the thunder in these eyes goes quiet. One step taken onwards, with crimson red leaves crackling beneath your feet, you walked down the staircase today, holding her, crying.

Fahrenheit

motorbike mounted with fahrenheit rising. cogent thrust while engine grinding. maximum throttle, gripped handle tightly. turbo shift tempts rapture climbing. spiking pulse as ignition turning. burning ambition when fervor driving. inhaling swift the night’s vibration. aphrodisiac induces vivication. momentum pure intoxicating, releases brakes for acceleration. stimulates flight simulation, as speeding breeds exhilaration. adrenalin ignites ecstasy, till destination comes breathlessly. surrender senses yieldingly, from riding yen so recklessly. thus rebel hazy vision seized, with twisted mystic lens intrigued. conceiving almost roguishly, your wish to fly again with me.

Embrace

this burning. in my eyes is you. collapsed in two. nothing hurts more. than seeing you bruised. if I could. I would repair. with my own life. pieces of me. I would spare. till I was nothing. just to see you. out of despair. cannot bear to behold. these tears. in your pupils. barreling down. wear and tear of your heart. breaking into a thousand shards of glass. your existence is part of who I am. I the core of you the same. I will absorb what I can. so vent your rage. till you are spent. transmit ache in embrace. I will take. if you remain emaciated. I too will restrain. but on knee bent. will keep praying. I’m holding your face. consoling with gentle hand. I didn’t know this. how it feels. helplessness. I am love deep. but only human. sometimes I cannot reach. am dying for being weak. crying if I cannot heal. you. still will give everything. in the world. in my breath. to try to.

Synchronize

It starts in the core of me and rises. I felt it today under my feet. The ground was quaking, and reverberations scaling from raw earth through my incumbent fatality. Have you ever tasted an elixir, incandescent and provoking —an awakening potion of blood, sweat, tears, and fury? Then you too shall feel the tremor of renaissance despite an asphyxiation of universal casualties occurring in the warring hearts of mankind as you were caught between. Behind the context, beneath the lucidity, below the healing patch of scalded skin, betwixt the scar from recent stunting feats, beyond the injured knee throbbing words of defeat-- she was still in there, breathing. I saw her in the mirror lingering— her arms wrought with rope and eyes ridden with hope but focused like a stealth bullet in turbulence, spelunking daring waves of her inner terrain, leading to discovery of the ingrained world of whims and outer faces of nebulas liberated. The bane of existence is to let one’s true self be mutilated by a tornado of creeping realities or daunting omens, of self-created monsters or whispering Jinns. And so it is time to synthesize within, to synchronize the ever rapturous spirit with the body again...

Harmonies

You think you know. You think you know. You think you understand these words. But you don’t. What you hear is the song that overwhelms the true harmonies below. What feasts stir in your stomach is not what I feed, for in my cupped hands were mere crumbs and seeds of your fantasies. This tremble you feel in your heart is not the tremor of defeat, but the rumble of the running of my feet across crumbling concrete on slanted rooftop retreats. But you wouldn’t ever believe. So digest the façade as this is what benefits your nurture, and leave the deciphering of mysteries as a humbling blur. The cascading hair seen are not tresses, but a cloak to stop the obscene from entering me-- for the helter-skelter spider I saw in my dreams was drawn away with Surah Yaseen. Wander astray from shadowing trees after sunset, my mother told me, and when possible keep words divine escaping from lips like a holy rhyme of protection in the dark. And you couldn’t imagine how the sky in the day looks to me. Where I say I knew blue, I saw sheer white ecstasy. But when rays decreased, I have faded into me, to avoid the night's entities. And when you think I am speaking of someone else, it was a fleeting mention of you inaudibly, covered under plundering plays of poetics and racing words sprung beneath steaming sheets of thought and reality. And what affects me, and how I have rooted, bleeding sympathies, for those who assumed I never think of them, but instead they circle in my head constantly. Beautiful people, in my blood, in my world, and your faces in my heart twirling daily, deeply setting into me. How warm my soul becomes from your haunt—but I bet you never knew that I swallow love as each of you continually circulate through the veins of my destiny. You are sparks bouncing off my lunar beams. And when this midnight crosses, I rise quietly from my room, and take myself somewhere that you cannot go. But you think you understand these words. You think you know. How much I adore you. You think you know. But you don’t.

Rose

There is a burden, blessing, and responsibility that comes with acknowledging the sadness that surrounds you, the blessing only ignited when united to console their tormenting ache. Being hypersensitive to expressions, reflections, and memories painted on communal faces, sometimes leaves this uneasiness in my stomach, defenseless I feel, yet somehow their moments of catapulting distant, intangible messages become strangely touching and real, but alludes to great difficulties interacting back. Why is this little girl’s mouth drooped astray, or why one man stared blankly with hypnotic sway, and that kid cornered roughly, whimpering away? What do their auras secretly say, and how was I oblivious yesterday? It’s like that tattered woman they told me existed running frantic on concrete floor in battered sandals, eyes forlorn. She stands at the corner, sore, waiting for someone she lost, perhaps longing for one who would never return. Why do I see her now, when I did not before, in her despair, pacing until she goes back home, returning to ritualistically complacent breakdowns? And what about those who share common love, wandering aimlessly within their hearts for a possibility to divulge passion’s word, but unknowingly murdering the one they fought to repair? Half orphaned, they stood themselves bearing their wounds that required more healing than I do. And what about this wall, that slowly becomes vulnerable, as their emotions push through like the tribes of Gog and Magog? They were helpless, but their sensibilities brutal on my outer shell, now steadily cracking, from wear and tear. And where there was light across the neural hemisphere, is intuitive gray matter and one shot of brilliance moving upwards to air. And then, there are the people who were collapsed at the names on black stone, falling north and south. Do you know you make me weep and tender inside? As tiny white ribbons swayed against blue sky, no one would share the truth with you, one more shocking than what you could conceive, turning you a believer through subconscious whims indeed. Still, from now until then, I shall cradle remains with you, against pavement shivering, because I knew your sorrow was true. Then sometimes, we find ourselves resurrected by powers of faith, and even through small things of great mercy, like the pitter patter of raindrops against my skin, that camouflages beautifully the well within. But if tears do continue to profusely accrue, will I drown when obliviously infusing myself with melancholy from each of you-- the woman who paces, that broken girl on the train, the man who sways, the boy bullied on his way, and those who yearn love, breaking her in two? And so, please know--- I scale back again, further, running in the other direction, just for a minute if I can, to shelter from dark shadow’s coax, and believing that good erases sin. Still—I promise, I promise, after sixty seconds the most, I will compose, and post restoration will wear you close—as each of you is a rarest desert rose. For whether withered, or perfuming my soul, your thorns summon blood to flow-- and in my heart's garden you shall always grow...

Celestial

Sometimes your eyes take the most intimate shade of hazel brown, the outer limits misted with this haze of forest green rims, that expose your obsessions and whims of love, soaked with competitive phases that make you this creature of infatuation and acumen, yet oblivious to poetic architecture sculpted from celestial perceptions of you, unaware of your soul syncing in cosmic flames coming through to the other side of my galactic dreams, provoking heat that melts away with vengeance. Sometimes your eyes watch and take in like eclipses, full of angry craving, then lighting up like stars dancing on dim nights, grabbing hold with mad grip, and culminating in ways invading but beautiful, like a tamed flame simmering in softest hand…

Door

purely by prudence, have not been known. deviant by nature, or inspired so? spiritual malfunction and scandal prone. thrust by whispers of subconscious tone. willing for deliverance, but transgression honed. knees in forgiveness, heart out the door. shackled with permission from hedonistic call. need for submission, if midnight burns. will you step in as virtue, or irreverent turn? hard to configure, when she's all you yearn.

Strung

sometimes im colliding. smashing into pavement. but did you know? which way is up. undeterminable. when the storm has strewn you so far. the road lay below me once. now clashing flood. strung vulnerable. im hooked on the high. the string of life. upside down. pacified by hidden stars. in the gray flashes. embraced tight. by another impassioned crashing sky.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica, Interstate 495, NY]

Siren

pyrotechnic pink fingertips grip linen under hypnotics slipping defenseless. head jilted back vicious with charcoal dipped hair flipped over eyes uninhibited. like waves defiant whipped in beats slithering as python against silk sipping adonis’s drink. tenderly tilted wrists sinking this effervescent siren melting. mystic feline exhales listless whence from enchanting defeat lips lilted.

Trigger

Rigged like a trend, the sense’s trigger pulled back-- at attention standing with cryptic diligence. Staged with patience, but if pushed to the end, the internal atom will morph again. Like half screen lit, or illusive science with contrived mix, blended two parts ignition and one portion saccharine. Felt the flood rise as tolerance spent, and this torrent rain pouring acids of a new name. Brushing away idealic identity from skin, until uproaring countenance spins consciousness from wrist. Another twist of emotions, like voices gathered at spindle, weaving electric conversation. If you think you know, begin assessing-- then find you are wrong. Kindness is fortitude, but yearning vindication a mortal truth. Beneath humility’s cloak, often subtle retribution grows. Crossing humanity unrighteously evokes the strangled throat, so that prejudicial tonality never brooding spoke, till awoke the waiting wisdom from under sweetest choke. And pours from mouth the nectar, your ears find contentment to know, with a taste of honey laced, on finger lingering so. And infinitely are you granted, the ambrosia of delectable things, but remain intensely zealous against movements threatening. Even on beautiful days, landscape is rigged like a trend, with sword rendering outward by peaked confession--- that your annihilation by the hands of love or reserve--- was warranted by what your heart had solicited first…

Tryst

this twist you got me in. tryst you bind me in. resistance wearing thin, in this fit you got me in. spinster conquering, from vast rebellion. killer shot roulette, wrought so scandalous. notoriously mischievous. slightest timid grin. girl surrendering. no matter what I think, with one hit you got me pinned.

Gracious

In His Graciousness, He heals. And even in most somber times, He reveals to us compassionate sights. Emerging from even the grayest of clouds there is merciful light. Bestowing benevolent hope, via radiant skies, that through any darkness we have the wisdom to rise...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Dagger

Enigmas cross through precious dreams, and venture mind quite furtively. Delusional and most obscene, those stages causing thoughts to bleed-- still filled the reservoir beneath with jasmine scent and rosaries. Crushing fortress graciously has fractures from where beauty beams. For vicious times that wrought between, did sculpt eclectic warrior queen. And doubtless stand depleting trees, whose seeds were built from true belief. You covet love in harbored sleep, and carry visions up your sleeve-- like dagger kept by wanton thief, but pierce oneself aggressively. They pause and glare, yet can't perceive, your pieces make the whole of me. Though maze of thunder runs so deep, in lightning eyes you sought retreat. And promised lay at guillotine, as heart did fall to weary knee. In crescent moon her honor keep, but heard you weep with hallowed tears…

Ignited

Don’t think that I don’t see. I do. From the side lines I may act subdued, but nothing could be further from the truth. I am ignited by one look whether beheld or felt in reverie by you. I was quietly aware hearing the music in your eyes. Then one night, I saw you in a dream with visions flowing from your mouth. You were walking circles around me. I was standing hypnotic looking at the stars. And you grabbed my hand trying to break me from the trance. You whispered in my ears to bring my dancing eyelashes back to your direction. Even as the world crowds me in, I can feel adoration pumping through your skin. Still, was it self doubt or your innocence that prohibited you wisdom of your worth? When all the while your presence stroked softly my avid earth? Know your stance engraves beautifully in softest spaces secretly, and these stars infinite reminders of how you implode in me…

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Breathing

I can’t believe I’m here. Just feeling. I can’t believe it’s real. So freeing. Soft bursting like the sun. Soul searing. No ground beneath my feet. Careening. Wrapped in utter warmth. I'm Breathing. Escaped your knowing world. Still dreaming.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Charlatan

You are my veil. Discreet haven from the world. Unrevealed, I feel safe in you. Inhaling ecstasy as you hover me. Like chaste hands discovering. But do you deceive, wrapping in arms concealed? Are you covertly covering me, even from myself? Knelt in twilight prayer then indulged in debauchery. Pinned amid aqua horizon and jagged shadowing. Precious cloak of night, charmed charlatan you be-- both devout lover and adversary…

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Persephone

come. here. yes. I am talking to you. bring the flame in your eyes. and I will burn a thought into your illusive side. you will tremble. can you handle what am I? watch my mouth move. but are you ready for the words inside? like molten lava against your skin. can you take the pain that comes with one taste? will you covet to have Persephone again? the feel of subtle breathing. yours grow stronger with every heart beat. what it would feel like? to come close enough. to touch a candle when she moves soft and slow. to know the sensation. when she simmers. like a melting dance in the moonlight. can your mind dominate her beautiful rise? can your pride tolerate the yearning that follows the climb? dark tresses caressing your shoulder blade as you fall back down? do you wish to surrender like this? the way the sky collapses under rumbling thunder? tumultuous in torrential waters spreading. do you want to drench in what is foreign to you? this tingling down your spine like droplets on steamed windows. bring your vigor here. yes. I am talking to you. come. near.

Pandora's Box

Do you perceive persuasive strokes? Do fingers brush as letters cross? Do senses swerve from dusk to dawn, when intertwined with verbal rush? Do subliminal thrusts the thought provoke like ignited match an arson does? Do incensing spaces make faces blush, and push you onto craving words? Glass bangles dangle precocious spots, and coax you towards Pandora’s box. Though slightly open, chaos rocks-- you fiercely shake this fragile lock. Was I perpetrator who sparked the fuse? Or was inferno launched by you? Since addict habit cannot refuse-- inject night in veins to yen induce. And whilst my resistance quiet brews, carpe diem to make your move...

[Photograph by Bellezza Caotica]

Portal

Do you know what I see, when I look at you with these eyes? When I am caught vulnerable beneath your open skies? I see bluest streaks breaking through like loving arms around shadowy thoughts. I see mercy’s warm hand as it tears melancholy apart. I see portals of hope bursting, like splashes of silent stars. Do you know what I see, when I look at you with my dark? I see light exploding from out your heart...

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Melting

In gentle way. Filling colors. Iris devouring. Mesmerized. Melting meadows. Between green glories. Amid your adoring shade. Quaking softly. You held my voice. With tender hand. They beheld only bracelets ringing. Hush you said. They walked away. While you thrilled flowers with potent sway.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Electrified

Once wilting and jaded, like pathway serpentine. Flat lined I laid here, post traumatic drive by. Somehow resuscitated with mouth to mouth supplied. Were you surveying movements of a ferocious mind, or witnessing the wiring from oft cathartic side? Emerald green injected on aqua blue reprieve, alleviation granted through secret chemistry. This fusion turns apocalypse to ardent prophesy, chasing catatonic with bionic ecstasy-- leaving speeding gunshot burns, on love's deep bleeding sleeve. Body flexing messages, you cannot capture me, so keep on breathing harder than harsh infinity. With one zealous motion, gravity defied, and found mesmeric haven for when our veins collide. Your voyeuristic tendency, I dare not you deny, but bolt I will bodacious through effervescent sky. Did you envision me a ghost, against the night time swept? Or streaming like a steaming sound, turned whisper on your neck? Illumination’s nucleus in shadow’s eyes is kept, and tonight, I am lightning so take in every breath. Induce a rhythmic pumping to bring me back to life— quenching sweetest fetish to be electrified. For just as I was flickering, I stand now galvanized-- plunging backwards beautifully off your blazing high...

Windows

I know. You want to break it. You want to come through places where only your imagination has taken you before this. Permeating mind frames and cryptic anomalies to reach it, but then find yourself at windows peeking deep with a sense of defiance against a half open door, for you are either too hesitant or obstinate to climb in. Do you quietly strive to uncover these contrivances, to feel the pressure of your penchant turning you turbo potent on my presence, engaging in thrust against subtle resistances? You considered it, and then relieved yourself on small details before that infatuation grabbed you again, leaving you with only seconds to refrain or spill. Yet you are too scared to ask, so you never will.

Listen. I used to scale walls to retrieve justice, and then plummeted off cliffs after prolonged racing with precarious liaisons, so I understand your need to explore compulsion and implore discipline, often one overpowering the other with competence. Still soon with time I transformed into something different, brought ingénue down with corporeal predilection, taking eternities to regain a sense of quaint reparation, a one-sided bliss with absolute obliteration.

Look carefully, my scars are still simmering, so I know what you feel, as you stagger struggling like I once did, but I fell in, and at moments revived, am still chained to it. So if persuaded by evasive allurements, resist those beautiful intensities, curvaceous calling, that uplifted and lure with voices of wisdom injected when you least expect it, then you find yourself fed but eternally captivated. The universe is titillated by those who encompass both sacred and sacrilegious tendencies. But observant, I cannot unveil my propensity for transgression has a way of desecrating consecrated things-- though the ecstasy of being broken by one’s own sadistic hand is a dangerous but delectable prescriptive. Hence, a part of me impels you to do it, because I would. And a part of me says run as far as you can make it, because you should. Some rushes entice like no others, and they never decrease in fervor. This one is like going full speed but then crashing into something soft and sweet. Exhilarating, but what is the price of penetration? And tongues are more enigmatic than mind conceives, interpretations warrant perceptions in between.

Sometimes we become hallucinogens, somehow the addicts find us, and we find them. It is a partnership in pain and relief, like breathing hard running on the street, then jumping the fence, against luring heat, to feel sweat beads fall from you to me. Do you remember this? Do you want to recreate it? What it feels like to smell my hair, the intensity of jasmine wrapped in something warm when I am held boldly, and then quickly let go before you accept me? Was it the way I break metal bracelets when I talk, or the way my eyes dart up and down, then across your face, and how you got caught tracing your vision around me, from eyes to mouth, then to my arm, until you glanced the other way, unarmed against what was disclosed. With my head titled back in my chair, did you want to reciprocate in ways only the raving dare? I watched you while my hands were at utter unrest, spoke with smokiness in my breath, where nicotine was never the culprit, but chasing my conscience causes breathlessness. Have you listened to the slightest lisp when I am nervous, a remnant of the child I am, and a sense of whom I became, and how my eyes under dark eyelashes flash you when you try to penetrate my intentions, but were reluctant to subjugate?

Perhaps expectations are part met, when we come pre-consumed with a cloth of a different thread, to drape my naked head. Still, you will reflect upon one day, and then press strong with a wish to have tasted your craving away. Perhaps the facade of the half-open window is just that, a betrayal, for you may never come in. Or maybe, just maybe, the thirsty are too blind to see concupiscence streams that flow before them, and have missed tenderly quenching obsession’s need. Whatever the case may be, revealed or composed-- you want to break in. This I know.

Renegade

This roadway paved gray, I climbed on the back ebony and blue to feel the wind burst through my black, hair swept away until it creates a mask against face. Least do I wish to release what was in my eyes, yet somehow, it peers extensively back. Holding on, twisting with you like fragile trysting, I feel the ground burning beneath, the skyline dipping deep, infringing upon me as heavens fall at feet. I will grab onto more than conviction allots, but somehow left heedless as irony plots against me. How you deal, merged in between, and they were unknowing of your presence-- my apologies for this acquiescence, I was blindfolded and decreed silent for the time being. But did your discreet nature break you when you beseeched to me, and I turned away unrecognizing? I know you felt my palm sliced from contritely withholding sacrificial dice, boots gripped concrete as it cracked, but somehow dragged us bleeding in alleys. Celestial merciful bandage keeping cut dressed- Oh, if I hide in the dead of night, should forgiveness shelter the same way as covenants once did? With dualities heard, your pleading revealed at the red lights on junctions unreached, each wanting their promise to succeed. And I sink sink sink with each tortured appeal, supplications of whom He grants He will. Metamorphosis ceased, and melt did we into pavement, a fire sparked, movements becoming religious defeat. Silver bangles wrangled at wrists, chained by self-reprieve, but never more liberated again, and mourn for what could have been of me. I see her standing sometimes, but I blink and think it is imagination speaking. She is draped crimson, and knelt with hands spread, eyes graciously drowned in faithfulness. Still I cannot finish this testament; lest it eats me inside, depleting a cell at a time-- I can grieve later with witness divine. Behind the transitioned cloak lies someone who reaches out to endless horizon and rides furiously-- wretched, beautiful darkness with pangs of enlightenment unraveled beneath. Hold on while I am here, for I do not know what tomorrow brings when traveling by renegade wing…

Manifestation

"I don’t see your name on her," he tauntingly yelled in your face while you bulldozed through him like a rebel with a noble cause defined, pushing aside all who counter attacked or even tried. Little did perpetrator know that your name was already branded upon her with vivid sights of expressive eyes that she knew danced deep inside your thought and wounds behind the corridors of childhood scarred dreams, running free with blue and white complexities. You already made her flinch, one that does not bend. What were you thinking inside she could not decipher, though watching mouth move intently contrived a tale of who you are, and how valiance has always been engulfed by you. Chivalry cannot fade so long as you drape those righteous robes, traits that sparked pride for her, held back tears as you spoke. You did not notice her smudging eyes as she hid behind glass when possible, and diverted glance at times when senses strongly held tight, seen sorrow or when perceive your greatness coming forth a prince of persia finding his valor so authentic to swallow. Honor being your crowning glory, do you even realize how highly you were held though she didn’t alert? It was at first sight that she became absolutely drenched in admiration. But even from upon her throne, how could she knight the already gallant? Striding tall, strong, face blessed with countenance. And when you said you stand for goodness, did you know you have always held elite heritage? You were born divulging promises, and feeding others even when hungry with words of wisdom, royalty, and a rare invincibility. Her moments of vulnerable silence did you grasp? Forgave you a subterranean stare, as she was there entranced, listened, absorbing with intent unimaginable, and trying to take in the time ticking away with stoic reverence? She is far more manifest than what you think- for this was penned in deepest emotion, and you more beautifully intricate than what she could have fathomed...

Masquerades

A consciousness exists as such that oft times we can hear magnitudes and spectrums without single touch. Voices crest a thousand words each full with meaning and carried abruptly across an urban landscape. From white smoked jasmine scents moving through Gotham's crypt into sobered hamlets uphill nestled in still places against turbulent winds blurred-- the sounds of the world are your backdrop to a dialect fully recalled, a mix of many universes bundled into what is heard. And whilst experienced auditory stimulants-- listen not only to words but to inflictions, reflections, and inflections, but even the minor intonations that send chills bejeweled with a tenderness beneath. The passing of day has truly been something strange-- began driven and aggressive, like forced against a wall by predator’s mouth heaving, rendering me a meditative livewire wandering the wet streets electric-- and then, unexpected culminating with something transcendent to the ear, chronicles deposited as if rare gems decorated across heart, held closely till it is heard again-- voices transfused into inspiring masquerades of being.

Notte Vista

I sometimes peek from rooftops when no one is looking. I sneak to ledges at the edge of the night. To glance across the jungle that is my half lit city entranced. To sit upon a lingering cloud after the sun sleeps and mystery prances. I step quietly up the stairs to where it is empty. To climb out as fog cascades over sky when finding my footing. Hand gripping the ends for life is always slipping. I dip into the moonlight with my fingertips, and it is delicious. Dark beauty captivates and leaves the mind lingering. Breathless draw kisses while nighttime adoring. I sometimes peek from rooftops when no one is looking.

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]

Drenched

Northern lights show iris spectacular like lit flame when in moonbeams you gleam phenomenal. Without warning, melting reluctantly into evening’s arms under coveted retreat, after hours of grazing me with engaging heat. Concentration of blazing eyes set to raze my resistance could not deflect an insistence to devour piece by piece, until you fully consummate the enraged defiance and utter infatuation created within. How could one restrain or deny, when in inclusive submission we wish to lie. Inviolably sipped quietly from me, you subdue with sweet strangled grip. Yet femme fatale has most compelling stretch. Her sound leaving tainted violations upon your way in, and a request to be smeared across restricted spaces by potions simmered in intuition’s beating chest. And remember you her tantalizing slap across your face. For if you know the camouflage, you may infiltrate the rest. Still taking away her countenance was only half the test, the other his tortured yearning for with drenching night she's swept. And he is left standing, with these heated words in hand, wishing deep to dip his darkness, inside her once again...

Déjà vous

How warmly seduces the zephyr, like a charmed ember infused raspberry stained mouth, induced by amrita left beneath velvet hair, the secret jugular bruise. Bent on knee, caressing passion’s hue, sought at the hemming of my déjà vous. Was it your providence to melt with unconscious testaments felt where skin’s sublime perfumes rise, or was your zealous demise redefined, when existence was embroidered with my design? For one moment lay subdued, while zephyr wanton strokes the muse, and raspberry mouth is sweet transfused, with nectar’s fervency abused. Wipe tender lips as exit you, for world knows those who savored fruit.

Urban Vision

Waters tiptoe slowly across urban threshold in tickling ripples to meet cold pebbled shore. I am drawn to where horizon and steel beams roar, grown devoted and distracted by sounds of winds howling against grayed concrete walls, lifted by searing visions soaring above. Bestilled by both nature's rousing pull and sky riding forms cutting into nebulas bent- I greet grass and dirt barefoot jean cuffed as hair flirts with incumbent season's mirth. Indulgent but a day, for all its worth-I have a snowflake in one hand, but sense lilies as they lurk..

[Photo by Bellezza Caotica]