when memories of you

when memories of you
rain down on my mind
my thoughts dance barefoot
through the downpour
that reawakens and refreshes
my half-naked desires for you

untitled

come darkest night
come brightest day
come rain, come shine
come whatever may

come Her anticipated
come Her unannounced
come Her early or belated
i’d have everything renounced

i will not so much succumb
as willingly yield and pledge
myself to one who did me fledge
from then till now to time to come

on all fours will i prostrate
when before her feet i be
and to Her will i supplicate
that She would set me free

come Her rash or unbidden
come Her with ease or pain
her visit will not be in vain
for i willingly shed life’s burden

come darkest night
come brightest day
come rain, come shine
come whatever may

A Desire

I do not ask for Casablanca,
neither An Affair to Remember;
quite frankly, I am no Sabrina -
we need not be Made For Each Other.

I have no need for cards or candies
or bouquets of dozen-roses red;
I do not ask to be wooed on knees,
or somebody to tumble with in bed:

I am not seeking my One True Love -
the one that poets often write of -
just the thrilling tickle of a crush,
the type that turns your insides into mush …

Please, not for me
a sweet or passionate romance:
just someone who’ll
cause a wet spot on my underpants.

I am not a good writer

I am not a good writer -
guess it’s never meant to be;
I am not a good poet -
and that from my works you see:
for trifling little rhymes I write
which are neither clever nor polite,
and my words are but dull and trite
(for I am really not so bright) …

Oh, but if they your fancy tickle –
Be generous: give me a nickel!

A|Muse

If I gave you food
for thought,
a meaty bone
to chew,
tell me not
I beg of you -
and your thanks
I will refuse:
for
I am neither amused
nor a muse.

But she whose eyes are deep
   and bright,
who drops in when you sleep,
   or write,
will your fantasy amuse
and great ideas produce –
it is she who is a muse.

Amused I am not,
Neither will I muse;
a muse be I never –
ah, do not me bemuse!

Predicament

Should I myself defend
When injury they intend,
Or ignorance pretend,
Or to their level
   condescend?

Should I my innocence maintain
If they should my honor stain?
(Or would it be in vain?)

Should I even dignify
With a word, a reply,
That which is a bald-faced lie?

If I were to their level sink,
I would be dirtied,
And they’d be enjoying it,
I should think.

If at twenty-five

If at twenty-five
you should still be alive,
your body will start falling
   apart,
it will begin to break,
and you’ll feel like dying –
you’ll wish to be dead.

Does it make more sense

(in light of the Chinese majority’s collective and continual burning of offerings during the months of the Chinese Festival of Hungry Ghosts, despite the haze drifting in from Indonesia’s land-clearing fires)

Does it make more sense, thus being said:
that for the dead and departed
we should these fires, hazes, smokes
   have started;
that to appease the departed and dead,
we the live and living should make
ourselves all miserable, choke,
   and sick?

advice to myself

stand tall stand tall
and your hair let fall
back straight
despite the weight
stand tall
through it all

Prey and Predator

the rattlesnake that slithered by
tasting the air for the scent of food -
it picked up a single faint trace
and in stealthy silence slinked towards
   the source -
a little brown mouse
blissfully unaware

the snake was poised to strike -
and in a flash it would have too -

but face to face
when eye met eye
prey and predator
began to cry -

oh
but to recognize in the other
the soul of one’s own true love -
now in this life in the forms of
prey and predator –

and how wondrous strange it seemed
and what strange wonder it was
to look and see –

curled - unmoving -
around the mouse’s downy warmth
the rattlesnake’s cold scaly length -

prey to predator
predator to prey
both had been separated in place
joined now in a tender last embrace -

the rattlesnake would rather starve
   and die
and with the mouse
wait to begin together
their next new life

the moon and a sun

i have never thought about it
but now that it’s been suggested
perhaps it might be true:
i'm a sun that
burn all those
who venture close

this must be why
i’m forever chasing the moon
of you