Give Back the Day

Yesterday, the day was all mine.
It brushed against my skin
And penetrated my innermost self.
It climbed into my body and took over.
It whispered unfamiliar words
To the ear of my heart,
But that I clearly understood,
Reaching down into my silent depth
Where all languages and secrets
Came clear to me.

I heard the rain talking
To the parched meadow.
I understood its sympathetic language.
I rode with the clouds in their assemblage.
I ran with the wind and kissed the rain.
I felt the silky texture of the rainbow.
I saw music climbing out of the tulips.
I saw Mother Earth turn inside out.
I saw her dark caves basking in the sun.
I saw her gold spread out for the viewing.
I saw her secrets and felt her joy and sorrow.
I saw her the day she was born,
And lived through her secret life with her.
Then twenty four hours in a precious flash,
She was just a treasured memory.

Give me back the day again.
I still haven’t seen enough.

Poetique Voyage

A voyage into the world of poetry
Where words are soft whisperings,
Where they melt into the golden sunset
And awaken with the morning dew,
Where they fly with the roving sun
And sit on big fat clouds,
Where they summon the carefree tempest
And roar with the marauding thunder,
Where words are passion incarnated
And they touch your tender skin,
Then move toward your heart,
That becomes a vessel that
Transports beauty and rapture,
That vivifies every organ in the body,
And sings a lullaby to rhetoric,
Where rhetoric gets tired and falls asleep
Then awakens with a new spirit,
Where the spirit is like the rain
That reaches every chasm in the body,
Where the rain tastes like honey
And the honey tastes like a poem,
And where that poems becomes a deep sigh
That falls in love with the world,
And the world becomes your inspiration,
And you become disconnected to
The world of weights and measures,
And you are floating on air.

The Glory of the Rush

That glorious rush, that electric thrill,
That tempestuous surge that rocks my being,
That river of adrenaline that overflows its banks,
That secret cache that lives inside my soul,
That arsenal that’s stocked with ammunition,
That voyage on the way to paradise,
That devil’s ride that spurs me on,
That manifest that knows its own secret way,
That ship that dances upon killer waves,
That steed that lives inside my gentle soul,
That chomping at the bit that sings to me,
That alien spirit that invades my body,
That enchantress that steels my lonely self,
That language that sits upon my tongue,
That utterance that flows out from the devil,
That love affair with the dazzling macabre,
That transformation that lifts my spirit,
That new me that cast away the old one,
That portal that took me to another world,
That landing in the midst of perilous beauty,
That reality that shows how paradise feels,
That dream that was once a secret dream,
That drove me into that dream
In an invisible coach
With faceless drivers,
Took me into a paradise of thrills.

An ode to the glory of the rush.