Celestial Crown

I’ll pluck the colors of the skies,
right out of the air,
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

I’ll grasp azure and cyan dyes
and cerulean most fair.
I’ll pluck the colors of the skies.

I’ll work until the sunset vies
crimson shades with glaucous glares
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

I’ll wait until the moonbeams rise
and thread a set, or perhaps a pair.
I’ll pluck the colors of the skies

Throughout the night, until sunrise
spills rivers of red which I’ll prepare
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

I’ll secure them with firm ties
and lay the veil upon your hair.
I’ll pluck the colors of the skies
and weave them ‘fore your very eyes.

Scandalous

I’m a bad man, I confess,
when I’m a player out on the attack.
My life’s been one big, glorious mess.

The cherry of my eye was a girl named Jess.
She had the most amazing rack.
I’m a bad man, I confess.

And I broke the heart of dear, sweet Bess
when she caught me and her mother in the sack.
My life’s been one big, glorious mess.

Then there was Miss Little Black Dress
who gleefully took me to hell and back.
I’m a bad man, I confess.

And there was that brief time with Wes…
Which, I assure you all, amounted to jack.
My life’s been one big, glorious mess.

Now I spend my nights with Tess
who has quite a dexterous knack…
I’m a bad man, I confess.
My life’s been one big, glorious mess.

Looking for love

How long have I pined
for a love with substance and with style
to fulfill my heart, soul, and mind?

How long have I looked, eager to find,
staying hopeful all the while…
How long have I pined…

It’s bittersweet and wretched kind,
making the sourest faces smile
to fulfill my heart, soul, and mind.

Searching always, sometimes blind
and other times with such guile.
How long have I pined…

But it can’t be bought, wined, or dined
and lies at the end of a long trial
to fulfill my heart, soul, and mind.

At long last, the journey behind,
we’ll look back on every blessed mile.
How long have I pined
to fulfill my heart, soul, and mind…

The sanguine song

Do you have music in your veins,
that pulse of fire deep inside –
the kind you look for in soft refrains?

You pull it out with such sweet strains
of fingertips that grip and glide.
Do you have music in your veins?

Brought to life with such pains
you can hear in each note the pride,
the kind you look for in soft refrains.

Falling as gently as the rain
and rocking as hard as the tide.
Do you have music in your veins?

You refine it until all that remains
is a phantasmagoric, sensual ride,
the kind you look for in soft refrains.

That kind of passion never wanes
and takes the long years all in stride.
Do you have music in your veins,
the kind you look for in soft refrains?

– Dedicated to Toubab Krewe, without whom this poem would not exist.

What’s your favorite part of spring?

What’s your favorite part of spring?
Where do you even start?
It can be any old thing…

Is it the birds taking wing
weaving to and fro as they dart?
What’s your favorite part of spring?

Is it that familiar set of rings
that appear once the clouds part?
It can be any old thing.

Is it the perfume flowers bring
as they make a meadow into art?
What’s your favorite part of spring?

Is it the way the whole world seems to sing
like life is only beginning to start?
It can be any old thing…

What makes you feel like a king
moving your mind, soul, and heart?
What’s your favorite part of spring –
it can be any old thing.

Celebrity

There are many who would make their name
and seek the glory of the limelight –
there are few who’re prepared for fame.

There are those who like to claim
that it’s all theirs by right.
There are many who would make their name.

There are so many that are all the same;
they twinkle and then fall from sight.
There are few who’re prepared for fame.

Their life laid bare, a public shame,
displayed for our vulgar delight.
There are many who would make their name.

For the successful, a lifelong game
of putting on masks every night.
There are few who’re prepared for fame.

But in the end, who can blame
them for reaching towards such heights.
There are many who would make their name;
there are few who’re prepared for fame.

Haunting

I couldn’t believe that sight.
My skin’s as white as a pall;
it gave me such a fright.

It almost seemed a trick of the light
save for the shadows on the wall.
I couldn’t believe that sight.

Ghosts, goblins, and a wight
strolling boldly with visible gall.
It gave me such a fright.

I followed and watched their evening rite –
I couldn’t resist that phantom call.
I couldn’t believe that sight.

And as the ceremony reached its height
their voices shook the very walls.
It gave me such a fright.

I hear their revelry each night
the echoes of their spectral ball.
I couldn’t believe that sight;
it gave me such a fright.