Rendezvous with a stereotypical stranger
hats off to you sir, wearing and tearing, BC to AD...
Sooth me lull me
in stillness...
You are the prime suspect
of the destruction of private property...
you liken us to ashen stars – charred by...
marred by the violence of a turbulent galaxy...
can you calm the cold winds that howl
your name in the dark of night – when...
what should be said of the sorceress that
ignited a fire from where no kindling...
A slight tone of guilt envelopes my poetry,
as I question why he was ever granted a life...
the sky lightens with your touch, i’m left...
you set fire to most things, are you aware of...
parched are the lips that recite your poetry –
your words demand everything to take flight...
sheath your gaze –
i have no response for your tiger eyes...
on the nights where my eyes gorge on you,
a banquet of star-matter, where my belly...
the tragedy, the love, the tragedy!
This will be found in the following story...