Doth have woven

" Fortune could not weave

  as woven were the threads and attire spunned
  called upon the writhing tongue

  thy blasphemous philanderer notions of love.

In the temple of madness and wine

where toxication could not hold to hear

the cries of life in gentler sways

gave life a morn to kiss in the death's castle of mis-matched broods.

And my heart had drunk alot

not too much or quantity stiff

only to satisfy the calling thirst

to the necrophillic death that was wide awake..."

Dream-Waves

" A crumpled-perfection sung
  in the lakes of mirroes and realities inundating
  call upon the farside of the swan that cries
  for her feathers plucked are better dried

 Cooked to eat yet not to consume
doth thy mouth hunger for omnipotence?
A dream to a believer and non-believer

why art though fancying the unfated transcendence?

And though thy mortal plains expire

and alchemy only rings as it had wrought before

thy curse lade in the flowered-snake

blooming poison as it pollinates the waves." 

Fugitive

" The fruit bore no ill
 yet caters man and woman's guided still
it pokes only twice; it's intercourse is foreign

yet it mourns the believer of the passionate course.

Why, why, why - all these 'why's erupt?

In the thickening deadpan day
the voices all listlessly sing in singular

the type of robot that is man

Am I a fugitive?

One breathes to tell

No not man, not man
Yet, yet all is well in the hellish Eden-land."

The Mystique

" She is iriscent in completeness
  yet glows perfection beyond perfection
 No passion leaves as she evolves still

 in a coccoon of human beauties and immortal wants

  She is far than the butterfly
  a firefly calls her egg of light
  she cranes her neck in serenity

  as she the awesome cradle of absolution

  It is by miracle I have her as a companion
  true manna to hold her at heart

 walk beside the maiden of moon and sun

 as she smiles though knows not the planet inebriates..."