Winter Morning (Photo credit: blmiers2)
Walking steadily under the blackening heat of the sun’s glory,
Headphones on my head, fingers tapping, face awash with brightness;
Your fiery love shakes my joints, smiles and hormones.
Tears of spring’s fond memories in my eyes
Dry too quickly unlingering on my hot cheeks.
Strolling about on the brown grass in evening’s melancholy,
Head in the wind, arms dangling, face serene as the floating-falling leaf.
All is at peace between my natural world and your supernatural.
Tears of summer’s warm memories in my eyes
Run lazily down my blushing cheeks.
Lying still on my cold bed on a winter’s night,
Head facing up, arms thrown forward, face still in soft prayers.
I hang out my fears and doubts on you to freeze away.
Tears of autumn’s pleasant memories in my eyes
Turn to icicles on my goosebumpy cheeks.
Skip-hopping like a newborn gazelle at spring’s break,
Head bobbing, arms flying, face glowing with ethereal liveliness.
My life starts and flows, rolls and ends with you.
Tears of winter’s cool memories in my eyes
Flow freely down my supple cheeks.
Each season brings back fond memories, and creates new ones, of us –
Waking up, living through the day and passing out at night with you –
That give my darker days some semblance of meaning.
Tears of life’s sweet memories with you
Become a sea of love that drowns me.
Thank you for giving me good days.
Death Valley (Photo credit: Frank Kehren)
I am trying to swim,
But how is the water filling my lungs towards the brim
I am drowning
I am dying
I try to get out soon
But how does one scratch out of an elastic cocoon
I am suffocating
I am dying
I try to quench it
But how do I kill a furnace with just tears, piss and spit
I am burning
I am dying
I try to crush it
But how is my ramming the wall not breaking it
I am wrecking
I am dying
I fight to stay alive
I am living to die
In death I lie
In dying I come alive
Your world is unseen
Yet it has violently crashed into my scene
And it fills me with real life
Setting me truly free without strife
As the cold night dawns, the Dark-ones’ countenances light up,
They are shivering in anticipation of all the pleasure the night gives to them;
And the warm daylight dims as my mood is lifted up.
I am calm in hope of all the pleasure I get from the night.
All through the night, the Dark-ones indulge.
They do and become things too dark to be mentioned openly;
Whilst I put my soul to rest,
As I fall into the arms of Light-God.
The secrecy of the night warms their cold souls.
Their actions come from dark thoughts and need no light to carry them out.
But the solitude of the night cools my passionate veins;
And my words come from a living spirit and need not be loud.
The night will come when they shall sleep like other men.
But it is not this night!
The night will come when I sleep like they shall.
But this night my spirit is at its peak.
This night they grow and weave darkness,
As though they intend to stop the sunlight from shining at dawn.
This night I am up and bright,
Preparing the way before dawn for the sun to shine.
For even if evil successfully lays its egg,
And hatches into a virile spawn before daylight,
Light can still shine in the belly of the darkness,
And it shall run through the evil spawn with the sword of sunlight.
Introducing the Creator-God, all-wise holy-prankster
Of men’s fates, he is a chess grandmaster.
Even if some refuse to acknowledge his name,
They are still no smarter than pawns in his game.
/ Going back in time to an age before humans started playing chess, we see three pawns… /
Having a lack-full beginning as a servant
Was a pot-bellied wealthy Arabian merchant;
To follow the Enchanting Star, he folded up his house to be sold,
And bundled the weight of it all in gold.
/ Oh! And he kept a Shi’ite assassin with him to guard him… /
A noble savage raised in an African monastery
Saw the Enchanting Star as a greatest mystery.
He then set out with all his life’s essence
Symbolised by his jar of frankincense.
/ Like Prince Akeem Joffer (Eddie Murphy) leaving Zamunda at last for a life of discovery at America… /
Hammered and shredded, this woman is a soul at loss.
The only thing she lives for is to caress a heavy wooden cross.
Seeing the Enchanting Star she set out on the spur,
Squeezing out of her cross a tincture of myrrh.
/ I, an Alchemist, charitably helped convert the cross (symbol of her sorrows) into the myrrh bitter perfume… /
Epilogue (Matthew 2:1-11) The three wise men present baby Jesus their gifts:
Arab: Jesus, take my gold in exchange for your richness,
And take my Shi’ite to protect you from Herod.
African: I have been “forming holier-than-thou” in self-righteousness,
But my frankincense smells like “fart” before you who is himself God.
Sufferer: My perfume has been donated to the house of Mary,
To be kept for the day you meet your worse-than-mine fate.
God: You lads willingly did my bidding, go make merry;
Whichever way it turns out, I always checkmate!
Author’s note: I planned the above stunt with the Creator-God. If you don’t believe I am a player, go to http://www.chess.com/members/view/krystophyr
Was a wine-lover
Lounging in the evening breeze,
Then saw a wonder.
Red sky turns lively;
Angels whipping demon-butts
Could be seen clearly.
Off to the cellar,
I rolled out my wine barrels
And worked my lighter!