Mariana

Being grand in loneliness

No embrace in darkness

under such pressure

can highest heights 

match that depth

some were made

to be alone.

Mercenary Love

Flamethrower mouth
Lash your scorching, searing tongue
Leave the burned out towers
As tombstone to this mercenary man

Familiar

Stronger.

    The infant crying,

         first exhale of 

            new rain upon parched earth.

    Pulse gaining speed;

        the first thought when awoken from dreams.

    Sails bursting forth

        with God's breath 

           across endless seas.

Fonder.

    Fire blazing, 

        brazen along unknown horizon

    Igniting the courageous mind.

    Inhaling familiar scents

        through upturned nose, 

            with uplifted breast.

Deeper.
    Fathoming anew the oceans 

        as mysterious and briny
            as the Sun's dark memory on the skin.
    Beholding the promised land, 

        always before you

            clearer now than the grave.

Weaker.

    The perfected

        first wobbly-steps upon storied shores.

    Earth trod underfoot, 

        pliant as this clay-molded purpose.

        Still unclear, yet very dear,

            Listening to the voice;

                The tide, a rhythmic siren song.

.............
..................
.............

Poison Cup

Drinking in love

as cold, clear water,

But what we had was not enough.

I drank you in like a poison cup.

I kissed you in confusion

and left the same way.

It was a mistake, you said that you left me.

The greatest you'd ever made.

An apology, such a cruel thing to say.

I cannot stand this rejection

clinging to a bitter plank

And your unbearable humility!

Significance slips from me like a broken cistern.

Recklessness words leak from my lips.

From a dry well

I drank a poison cup.

A bitter draught, but I drank you up.

An empty man with no compassion,

perhaps has no love within.

Can I be made that well again?

Bitter

The fruit of the tree,

New soul, you see

Tastes sweet upon the tongue.

No better deeds

Or blooming seeds

Can stay forever young.

Why, oh God, does it taste sweet,

If we are all condemned to eat?

(found this laying around: written 2007)