Truth is now lost,
in this earthly world,
love now a ghost,
torturing souls with its meaningless words...

Turning their selfish motives real,
people play with tender hearts,
sensitivity of emotions they steal,
without caring how much it hurts...

Considering unspoken words and patience,
as an advantage to fool someone...
People forget they are also humans,
but with extremely foolish minds,
having thought good for no one...

a woman's face wears many masks
her precious secrets to conceal
so a man may sit and ponder
if what he sees is truly real

he's a very clear-headed man
who takes his time and sets his goal
he's sure to see the masks diverge
as he taps on the door to her soul

The feeling

kind of lingers
kinda lingers
kindalingus

oh yes that feeling

cindalingas
cinallingas
cunnilingus

oh yes!

i.

And I have decompressed time into the face
of my Beloved.

Solemnly.
Delightfully.
Righteously,
I compress the sighs of my life
into breath, one after the other,
for the fruit falls not far from the tree
and its branches sing praise to the sky.

Smoke inside a bubble is still smoke, our shadows
rise above.

ii.

Tongue traveling down your spine
Searching for the source
Mouths moist with pleasure
seeking one another

Suction 
Finger tips explore
Regions of privacy
Previously unknown 

Stroking 
Slipping in between
Salty fresh thighs
Making a connection

Two entities melding
Sensation untamed 
Lifting off into orbit
Explosive reaction

Congregational prayer session
Like the village market I used to go
This world filled with blares
Noises designed to deceive
Pleading to sell and to seduce
Babbling strange impenetrable tongues
Spreading fear of impending doom
With overwhelming wind of din
As earthquake, typhoon and tsunami
In the mist of this cacophony
Take a step and pull away
Listen to the indwelling spirit
The still small voice of the soul
And it shall be well with you

purity in the fires of ravage dreams
speaking talk
awake and lost

stars beneath and above
like heavens shine
and darkness dousing
rousing gardens of ghosts

you were there
once
in the grotto gate
the pale shadow
glimmer of a smile
the ripple of the
minutes settling
like a first
snow

Oh Wow, Oh Wow, Oh Wow!
Steve's last words as he took the first
bite of the last apple,
leaving behind an empty shell;

wings unfurling,
his footprints on history's archives,
he went sailing,
and this is the way
a good man lives and dies.

I don't know what to say,
so I'll say nothing,
I don't know how to say it,
so I'll write a poem about nothing and
how not to say it,
I've followed every phase of the moon to be here now,
so here I am,
occupying earth,
her citizen.

I'm a one-woman marching band. Kindred
spirits have taken my hand, there is peace
in the jungle when the lion lies down with the lamb.
There is irony in the poem that finds its own way home.

Sometimes, mom have no charm
no harm intended, she offends
mind blinded by pride, mom makes no apologies

We love her any way, forgave words that stung
go tell, she means well, giving hell
spewing wrath like hot ash

Mom demanded respect, seen as suspect, arrested
unforgiven, ignored by one she loves
socially crazed, she retaliated moms grey headiness 

The heart wants that which was lost, and
one uncertain dove, looked for twig after a flood, and
mother's love is never above, discerning right and wrong