Poem: Changings of Size

My heart is too big
this world is too small
when I think of our lives
together.

Our two is too much
for this dark crummy world
but yet for your touch
I'd pay everything!

Seasons all pass
as all flowers die
so all of my prayers hope
that We stay alive.

I can't be the first
through these Aeons of Man
to miss so a lover
I must see again.

The world is so flat
and you make it round
my ears have gone deaf
but you create sound.

My world is changing
from lead into gold
if only you'll stay
until I get old.

Poem: I Miss You Already

I miss you already
and how could that be?
It's been not five hours,
since you've been with me!

Is this the beginning,
of Love's painful side?
That this feeling of 'missing'
will just grow inside?

We've not even seen,
each one bare in the flesh.
And yet our two hearts,
are deeply enmeshed.

The smell of your hair,
still fresh on my skin.
All thoughts of our memories,
making me grin.
Wishing so bad,
to just hold you in bed.
But knowing as well,
there are still years till I'm dead.

And for all of those years,
I now have this one wish:
More time with you spent,
less time with you missed.

Poem: Love Debates

I get so confused
being with you.
I usually just give up.
Open my self-self
to the newfound spirit within.
Beleiving in things I never beleived in like:
Hope, Love, Freedom, Joy, Life.
How could this be bad?

My cynic points out
that all Love ends bad.
Indivisable: Love and Pain.

My heart tells him to
shut up and appreciate
the flower of love which had
suddenly sprung anew in my
barren old garden of self.
To smell the flower
and become drunk on the perfume,
marvelling with adoration
at the beautification.

"Shut up, old cynic,
and take a rest in the garden."
The fears are temporarily gone
as I marvel at the flower.
Only peace remains,
and her smile,
her skin,
her smell.
The profound feeling
in my deep stomach;
that she cares for me,
that I care for her,
and that that
is enough.

To sit and enjoy
is the nature of Love,
nothing else is required.
The fears and the worries
are merely the ants,
flys, and knats,
at the feet,
of the Goddess.

Poem: Muse Passion

Forgive me oh Muse!
Forgive me my way,
of using your beauty for Art!
For though you're unique
you're also a part
of the grand 'ol Mystique
of the World.
A Gateway to Goddess!
A being Supreme!
Your body a vessel for more!
That the very same Force
which gave birth to the world,
looks at me
through your eyes
at the door.
To see the divine
when I look at your face
is no poet's perk
or mere rhetoric.
No stiffening cock,
telling bar-stool fancies.
No mere gigalo,
out for the fun-of-it.
The light of yuor eyes
when they're shining for me
has powers beyond
all men's eye history.
Ignighting my heart
and whispers my ear:
"it's OK to love her,
there's nothing to fear!"

For you, My Great Muse,
are beyond mortal men,
and no matter what happens,
I'll still be your friend.
For one who inspires
deserves great respect,
the power of Gods
can cause many to wreck.
In respect for your mother
the Goddess of High,
I'll treat you my best,
and that is no lie.

Poem: My Passions

Do not fear me young Goddess,
though my passion seems so deep.
This heart of mine,
wrought of the deepest gems,
my tongue tasting life to the fullest.
For a breath of fresh air is better than cable
and I'd give my left kidney to a friend.
So know that my words have a way when they will
of describing you greatly with grace;
It's only this poet
a boy with a heart
who writes whenever it stirs.
I am not a stalker or suicide love,
no husband or sleazy old creep.
I don't want your money
and have not a job,
just my heart
which like yours
is so great.
I beleive in your freedom,
I'd never decide
your dates or your mates or your friends.
And even though I'd be allowed
to sleep around with others,
I'd have no want, you'd be enough,
(I hope that doesn't smother).

A private lover,
just for you,
with no strings attatched.
Tell the world,
keep it secret,
but I think we match.
This is all I have to offer,
though one day, who knows?
I hope you like this gift I give you,
as our story grows.

Poem: Offer to the River

A lovely surprise
the river says "Hello, my love."
I made offering to her
and an hour later:
There you are.
Shiny, light, wonderful.
A faint sorrow behind your eyes
I did not imagine it.
You don't want to speak about it
I respect you.
All I wanted is for
you to feel good
to hear you laugh
to see you smile.

Bringing out the Nurturer in me
holding you
stroking your hair
telling you "it's going to be okay."
No matter what it is
it will be okay
I promise.

We all need to be held sometimes
to be reminded.
And I want to lie with you
warm in bed
drinking tea
as naked
you cry into my chest-hair.
Safe with me
I would kiss each tear away
kiss your eyelids
eyelashes
rub your heart
in front and back
warm your body with my caring hands
chests together.
To free you from all earthly worries
with the tongue of my inner fie
faster and hotter
only to stop and collapse together
in love, in freedom, in peace,
together.

And yet maybe what you really need
is just a warm male friend.
Devoid of the tantric energies of sexual union
founded on talk and solid hugs.
This too,I would do, for you.
For you to shine, to prosper, to be happy.

Use me as you would Goddess!
I am at your disposal!
Take of me the seed of power
to nurture the Universe
of the Eternal Mother you are;
you can't hurt me.
A grown man many times over
whatever pain I have
I own
and none of it is your fault.

Sweet dreams, young angel,
may you feel in your heart
that I'm here.

Poem: Perfect

I have learned that
Order Eater Shoe Insoles
are a good thing for me.

Too much sun brings out
open sores of Shingles
on the right side of my face.

My breath
while sleeping
comes out as
a soft rattling wheeze.

In warmth
sheets of sweat
pour from my skin.

The common fungus
on my chest and neck
looks like
red splashes of acid.

The pain in my
spine and legs
is being controlled by
powerful narcotics
which leave me
dizzy.

A piece of tooth
recently broke off
from my
constant
stressful
Grinding.

My new black pillowcase
tells me that
my dandruff
is getting worse.

The yellow phlegm
from my
smoker's cough
is as steady
as ever.

It's possible
the new
anti-depressant
I'm on
is working.

My heroin habit
has slowed
to a crawl.

And to my surprise
I come to find
I'm Perfect.