I'm merCuriously illuMentating: where the flash of neuronal fires flower into sudden infinity

I feel I've been hanging by a thread -- though I hung from a windy-tree, the icy-rain deformed me; I swung in thunderous reverie, did-see the roots and mud entwined to form the scruples of my mind; there, the Runes in bone-clad dead made the language of my head and formed the magic of its ...fire, rhymes that seared with my desire; my end-times -- our words are created by misery and joy, in the language we convey, our Monsters and Saints - hanging in there ...

some don't get the emotions, see them as cliche', while the root of the problem is the heart I must say -- where we begin in our Mother's water place, the beat of her life, made ours by grace -- the pedagogues 'n pip-squeaks don't get the emotion that leaks from the pen, as longing, as aching, as yearning in unbearable swells, again 'n again -- they've never birthed in bursting strife, their suffering 'n joy of life

we are the foam on the sea of reality, where the roiling of Natures longing tak… Continue

we breath life into language which we construe with semantics and syntactical alliances until it needs to be said or is a lovely song but mostly flung out there into a crowded starry sky to fly or fall, that's all -- I learn a lot from my still-born writes as much, if not more, than those that never get a stare -- it all gets recycled in the cauldron of my heart, boiling with fires too hot for knowledge or understanding, spewing forth with plasma graces where they flow to my pen again and again… Continue

~ out of the desert, at dusk, he will come, intemperate, seeing you first with his eyes, burning like coals in his longing for your sumptuous fruits, then his mouth will swallow your blushing lips, he will drink deep from your sweet mouth while hands as strong as steel bind you close to him -- in that ravishing you will feel the Laylat al-Qadr in your breasts bearing passions fruit in your mind and your hearts will be as one...

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in the congress of Love
only Loving is the Truth
and that's the Beauty of beholding
with a realEYEsed look that dares to see
that Truth like Beauty is relativity --

this is my body, this is my blood,
come unto me as children would
with eyes the heart has seared with fire,
overflowed as insanity on the sharp edge of desire
where the fool and saint are one and the same
as players in the play of this duality game --

promulgate your Truth as if a wave on the Sea
where waves all gather but disagree… Continue