a spinning sphere without a horton to hear

“he’s not the easiest person to imbibe”

 

the failing of philosophy is in thinking the goal of philosophy is to search for meaning. look at the utter chaos of this world; you can’t make sense of it by putting it in a custom made package wrapped in a bow. it makes more sense to view it as disorder and the feeble attempts which try to anchor it with answers everyone should allow, as a waste of time. yes, existence engulfs the ecosystems of earth, it has happened for no other reason than it has happened, within the limits of gravitational pull and we have, and still do, swarm the surface, in wild abandon, leaving markers on pathways, striving for cohesiveness, but finding only frustration as the chaos continues to conquer simply because it was set in motion. society is a mosh pit, arms flailing, slamming into each other, endorphins emptied in effort to earn ecstasy. i have found inner complacency in viewing the documentary as having no theme or plot, whether you do, or not, it doesn’t matter.

 

before this disease gets much worse

let me leave you with this verse

there’s limits to this universe

and one of those is me

 

***

 

 

 

indescribable

(if i could write the beauty of your eyes and in fresh numbers number all your graces, the age to come would say, ‘this poet lies; such heavenly touches ne’er touched earthly faces’ – shakespeare)

 

endless array floating away

no words are adequate to say

i know all words have been made up

i think this poet’s been set up

given such beauty to describe

existing words but compromise

 

i could make up some brand new words

but even those would not be pure

enough to show what’s been bestowed

so everyone will truly know

the cadence of your radiance

inflecting tones in perfect tense

 

at your conception God appeared

(amid the chortles of shakespeare)

perfected beauty in your form

(cause all of language can’t perform)

its duty to aptly describe

your face where even beauty sighs

 

***

karen

sometimes you can’t remember as if waking from a dream

those cold nights in december that would drive us in-between

the bed and all the blankets and a comforter as well

where through the night a warm respite will help you rest a spell

but then the night light’s gentle light would be upon your face

where needing then a new respite would conquer and replace

my fingers fashioned in a touch would mimic the soft light

i’d whisper more into your ear than simply a “goodnight”

but harmony of poetry with beauty as its muse

than kiss the fullness of your lips igniting every fuse

and when the flames had run their course and burned the bedroom down

i’d occupy right by your side and let my fingers drown

in pools of beauty on your face reflecting paradise

and all the years have not erased or made me once think twice

about the need inside of me to linger next to you

to sing the beauty of your face is all i want to do

 

***

 

 

the causality of karen

(O that my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth! Then with passion would I shake the world. – Shakespeare)

 

the sunshine saturates your hair

breathless, all i can do is stare

hair and shirt, bright red radiance

my every thought is decadence

 

window shop displays, in the way

you look but all i want to say

can’t we just move along this date

to what we do when it is late

 

where we are standing at your door

instead of “goodnight” my kiss implores

for invitations to your charms

incarcerated in your arms

 

as moonlight mimics my caress

and with a whisper i confess

my sigh is just a compromise

for your beauty i would die

 

for no face or form could compare

to that which locks me in a stare

remiss to kiss and know the bliss

of turbulence and tenderness

where passion becomes a performance

alleviation in accordance

 

***

pondering your profundities

(lack of originality, everywhere, all over the world, from time immemorial, has always been considered the foremost quality and the recommendation of the active, efficient and practical man – dostoyesky)

 

she had majored in philosophy

i thought it would be interesting

to talk

but then she asked,

“if you find something

was it ever lost?”

 

(the problem is not suffering itself or oblivion itself but the depraved meaninglessness of these things, the absolutely inhuman nihilism of suffering – john green)

 

how quickly do you think i walked away

negotiated with nihilism

the production of a one act play

where the actor says

everything there is to say

by saying nothing

 

(life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by idiots, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing – shakespeare)

 

another beer in i grin

listen to the din of the party

leave to buy some bacardi

walk the streets, drink

and think about the ball bearings

in roller skates at a roller rink

because no thought is on the brink

of saving our solitude from ourselves

 

(everything is nothing, including the consciousness of nothing – e. m. cioran)

 

***

the girl from queens

we left the church and went in search of some place we could eat

a restaurant very recherché is where we took a seat

the sunny skies that were outside could not even compare

with all the brightness in your eyes that i was there to share

 

with every sip from your full lips i envied the cup’s rim

i moved my chair closer to yours and kissed you on a whim

napkin with meal could not conceal the blush upon your face

the stodgy, hosh posh restaurant felt we were out of place

 

we weren’t raised in hill houses with swimming pools for heat

if they’d known what i use to write they’d thrown me in the street

but i felt richer than if all their wealth they had combined

the greatest treasure on this earth is in that you are mine

 

the bill was paid we made our way to manicured sidewalks

where police earn their pay making sure homeless never walk

we left their scene for less serene to my old stomping grounds

and talked away rest of the day as we just walked around

 

no need to flirt the soot and dirt revealed just who i am

cultured and yet unrefined and still i am your man

the girl from queens with eyes of green laughing in l.a.

an artist’s muse your beauty used to be the words i say

 

the city’s din can’t enter in to disrupt any rhyme

i string together with my pen with meter keeping time

about the fragrance of your form flavored with flawlessness

stirring in me the perfect storm with every soft caress

 

***

kumquats and karaoke

there was a karaoke machine

i don’t have a voice that sings

from the fruit plate i grabbed a date

took a bite to delay my fate

 

she insisted i sing her a song

this date had gone seriously wrong

with a kumquat i sought reprieve

she told me she refused to leave

 

until i grabbed the microphone

the crowd coalesced with their phones

i hoped no one paid attention

or afterwards had retention

 

i choose “the things we do for love”

no one released a thousand doves

or offered me a record deal

afterwards a beer helped me heal

 

forcing me from my comfort zone

is something for which she is known

for the ladies’ room she excused

upon a napkin she had used

 

i penned a poem infused with rhyme

all within the allotted time

a woman spends within bathrooms

and within the chair she resumed

 

she read,

 

‘with open eyes i’m satisfied

with the beauty you have inside

that covers me till all i see

is how much you are into me

 

and with your heart makes me apart

of having you as a sweetheart

until the climes within my rhymes

are winterless in the sunshine

 

with eyes of green with which you’ve seen

the side of me that’s in-between

the poet prosing in my past

that only made me an outcast

 

and recent rhymes wherein i chime

about your beauty in springtime

which makes the flowers bloom and grow

drying tears of weeping willows

till all i think about is this

how i would die just for your kiss’

 

the words were read, she looked at me

batted her eyes and grabbed my sleeve

pulled me close for a sweet kiss

whispered she would remember this

when closed doors found us both alone

if i were smart i’d take her home

 

***

 

 

 

what is the chemical compound when the saline of tears of joy seeps into the salt of your skin

i’m dancing with forget-me-nots

collective memories are sought

tired of reaching with my preaching

you’re the only thing i’m seeking

newborn neurons are fed with love

when you’re all that i’m thinking of

 

touch me until the sun comes up

wherein i’ll bring two coffee cups

so we can stay awake all day

with sleep, eyelids get in the way

and block the ocean of your eyes

where surely i have been baptized

 

submerge, emerge, i’m born again

salvation in your silken skin

i touch with such adoration

whisper crowns of coronation

watch a dove descend from the sky

for even God is satisfied

 

speaking revelation decreed

that with your beauty he is pleased

even your picture makes me melt

and everything i’ve ever felt

is now erased just by your face

and every time your lips i taste

 

***

joyful thoughts and tender mercies

          (it’s only words and words are all i have to take your heart away     

          - the bee gees)

 

the ice has melted in the sea

islands are gone, shorelines recede

mountain base becomes the shoreline

mass migrations redesign

 

deserts become our new home

with new found rains they bloom and grow

ships can’t harbor in the new bays

old building tops are in the way

 

segregation, poverty, gone

we all pitched in and got along

building, planting, making new signs

“communal coffee” was my design

 

we walk within local fauna

it’s still hot here like a sauna

my fingers trace your sleeves of white

i kiss your lips and feel alright

 

in old weather we were together

you stayed my wings and i your feathers

amid new tasks all that i asked

was time each day where i could bask

 

in your beauty, debut screening

knowing survival isn’t meaning

to rise above in arms of love

takes us higher than any dove

 

can fly in skies of sustenance

of this one thing i am convinced

whatever change may rearrange

sweet love has no rate of exchange

 

***

 

eve was deceived, but adam chose

considering your creation

the good Lord went on vacation

for a minute or an hour

even in his endless power

he had yielded his masterpiece

the angels sighed with sweet release

and such delight at just the sight

of all God’s grace that did alight

upon your perfect pulchritude

which brings forth prayers of gratitude

from my heart and all my art

wherein my poems just fall apart

inability to describe

where even beauty will imbibe

and by you intoxicated

while this poet is elated

that beauty in the absolute

is in my arms and resolute

to being mine as sweet as wine

that once was drank by the divine

 

***

 

 

dizzy from kaleidoscope kisses

we’re walking home within the wind

the rain is right around the bend

intersection, change direction

walk in the rain, our selection

 

soaked to the skin i take you in

my arms in hopes that i might win

your wealth of lips, a warming kiss

you yield with just a slight insist

 

you’re wearing black underneath white

notice the focus of my sight

with your soft hand you lift my chin

and every kiss begins again

 

i lift you up within my strength

and move you to a building’s length

i pin you there, immobilized

caress your face with both my eyes

 

kiss you first sensuous and slow

until we both lose all control

our kisses become animal

spinning steadied by a brick wall

 

***