poetry

And in the ocean I will fly to the bottomless pit of darkness

How Many Michals Does it Take to Change a Lightbulb?And the lamp was onDarkening up the roomAnd I sat, aloneLooking for the switchTo turn off the darkness

Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonightSparkling for moon's spiced silver biteUpon skin of darkness, loving night moreStorm begins unlocking cold wind's door

I have found so much beauty in the dark,as I have found a lot of horror in the light.

He moves in darkness as it seems to meNot of woods only and the shade of trees.

She always walked under the arches of nightsAnd everywhere she wentShe leftThe mark of broken things.

O sun, heart of the heavens whose blood of lightInfuses the vigor which transmutes to azureThe black ice strangler of great space obscureI hate you, mask of gold, mist and fire, circularBlind monster blinding all the prey aroundYou who veil the impure dazzling phantasmTo the loving vertigo of my avid gazesThe visions of the colorless abyss of the voidReversed hollow truth-mask of the other world.

At a night like this, where it's just me and the yellow moon,I feel complete.

Remove the mask. Let me love the darkness you hide underneath.

I think that the habit of gloomy poetry is very funny. It__ like a special competition in losing.

Cup of JoeThere's nothing like a cup of joe,when the morning's grey and grim and slow,when the streets collide with the world outside,when litter lies where lilies grow.Just drink that smoking cup of blackand feel your feelings surging back.Plus, spill a drop and a coffee shopwill sprout up from a sidewalk crack!

Anger is easier than forgiveness.

Never miss a minute to Sexercise your mind!

Happy the man, and happy he alone,he who can call today his own:he who, secure within, can say,Tomorrow do thy worst, for I have lived today.Be fair or foul, or rain or shinethe joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine.Not Heaven itself, upon the past has power,but what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

When I die, don't come, I wouldn't want a leafto turn away from the sun -- it loves it there.There's nothing so spiritual about being happybut you can't miss a day of it, because it doesn't last.

I lovehow grown childrenwill still nametheir mothersthe mostbeautiful.It isas though,their eyeshave met the cascadingcurvesand goldensilhouettesof every woman.Yettheir soulsstilldrumto the beat_ of theirmother'swarmth and care.

She was born of space. And starlight. But she bled wrath. And vengeance.."[From Current Work In Progress]