you know , today ,
i"m not exactely the same man
that i vas yesterday .
it"s different .
i mean i am i ,
but , with some 35 . 575 yesterdays
acumulated , colected in myself , in me ,
plus today ,
that tomorrow will be
an other yesterday ,
if meanwhile i shall not leave here
and co away for ever .

There are words running alongside a river
winding itself around the bends of your curves,
a flow of feeling
pieces of sunrise radiating from your skin,
soft
(and it's charming how you guard something so perfect
with a shield of ice)
but it's easy to break through;
I realized this when I stopped looking at just the rearview
and fell into
those dark brown eyes,
felt myself surrender to gravity for a moment-
and boy, am I surprised -- caught hold of a rope,

Babe hold on to me like you love me
Kiss me softly till I fall asleep
Make me know your heart is mine
Though I know it’s not so kind

Babe hold on to me like you love me
Speak sweet words till I’ve fallen deep
Make me believe you adore me
Though I know it’s not to be

Babe hold on to me like you love me
Take me away to loves’ key
Make me see paradise in your eyes
Though I know it’s just a lie

Should you wander out
amidst nights' "twilight time",
it can end up going one of two ways;

if you fail to notice,
which would be a major crime;
youll have to wait, and see how the evening...plays.

Should you venture into
this "twilight force",
I can't emphasize this, nearly enough;

your existence will completely change,
and that's just "par for the course";
those, are your demons in the rough!

Gazing at furry paws
slapping white cord pulls
mesmerizes her.
Wooden tassels clunk together,
waving to and fro,
like a tetherball on a playground pole
spanked by busy children.
He left his kitten,
his curious kitten.

Outside snowflakes
float downward
like pieces of paper
torn from his exit note in her hands
and like bits of cotton
the kitten pulls from her pillow.
He left his kitten,
his curious kitten.

there are wiki leaks and
super-bugs
with
more changes
than superman
teen mothers
child drug addicts and
baby martyrs
waiting to be born
while we are
fucking one another
with our backs
against the wall
every moan
elicits reaction
your rasping breath
and salty sweat
grinds hips
in circles
whispers rise
the words are said
>oh god oh god<
as flaccidly
you recede
and like the power of prayer
i am left with nothing

Canto Two ~ It is dawn of the morning following.

Battle has ended, but the storm has not. Amidst the destruction common to combat's aftermath, a squeak of wagon wheels heralds the entrance of a small band. Three strange individuals, as unlike each other as three could be, come seeking those who yet remain alive upon the field.

Sounds of skin on silk

break the stillness

as she stirs in her sleep.

His chest heaves, hot and empty.

After their passion, before her sleep,

his pleas for a life together

were spilled before her

in torrents she denied,

in a deluge unabsorbed.

(little opening poem):
"A story joyful striking none as cold
needst never find its heroes fierce and bold.
'Tis fortunate such myths seldom unfold
and thence, as luck will grant, my tale's still told."

O, that the child was ne’er conceived at all
nor yet excessive tell his birthing cries
cast not of God, but else God’s nearest ties.
Without he live, none founder ‘neath the pall.

Down there
deep formed darkness
breathes intricate
with pain of
suffering existance

long distilled by fractal nightmares
under piss-stained bridges rising
over yawns of chasm buildings
once alive

now chained by grime
to decades poverty
and unmeasured nights hungered
by avarice misery unleashed
as hollow commerce

an age so long ago
the ice-caps linger
shuddered from their time
in empty realities
bright with anguish