wisdom of a derelict.

with tiny bites of soft
the kitten, less ferocious
the lion roared
as she ascended
the spiraling wooden staircase

smelling the untasted
royalty shall dine
a stolen gulp
of air
most of all
but taken granted

a withered frosted lily
warmed by heat
of passionate love
bloomed, in its dirt
but is it also
a part of those broken souls
ask the seer
who much cannot hear
its those years
of listening upon
the secrets,
the wind whistled into
our ears
that he caught upon
and held in a closed fist
as not to let go

but the breeze
contoured the scars etched
in the most vulnerable
of his palm
teasingly,
smothered the pain
of yester years
nurtured hope in the moist
of the clenched hand
a make - do womb,
but the expectant,
its expectations
gave birth to impatience
and a fluttering butterfly
caught his attention
as he let go of all
that penance bestowed to the normal
a hand free of hope

now all was lost
like a creaking door
that was blown away in a hurricane
'so what'
he said,
sipping on to some gin,
a child, shall live
and i shall perish in his identity
cause they shall hold my idea
against me
as it takes form of the course of its nature.
so i shall smell the autumn bloom
wait back to discover
that they shall never.

ode to tea

And much bidding
done for tea
those leaves that
stain even water
and blends in its purity

Those leaves did not
intend to plague
the elixir of life
Ask the flame
she carries in her eyes

But the energy of
water to enter
tea was not how
it was supposed to be

Those embers now
colored it fresh
left it bereft
of its beauty
its own flesh

The priest said
accused,
of losing itself
Poor water only replied
as it dissolved
in it
some more brew

Is this sin so
wonderful
ask the virgin wife
of a soldier buried
under the earth's crest
making love upon
a lost beggar's chest

But why do we talk
one after one
like a bee wouldn't suck
honey out of pollen
it visited last Sunday
But still goes back
every night to its nest
And brings more golden sticky
and embalms the walls

Color me in your
honey
of sweet pain
bring it on
and pour it in
me,
said water, still
holding within itself
how it shall be
called tea
and after a visit from the bee
we call it tea with
honey.

As the crimson
swum across
circular orbs
of the brimming cup

Now thick liquor of honey
swept the blood
as it left in water
its own

Pray tell
who here is
at a loss?
"What crass?"
As he sipped
from his morning glass

A crystalline source
a pearl in a shell
the moistured womb
as a river flowed down hell

a lil boy trotted like a duck
bent in the direction of the even tide
cupped his hands and took some home

and mother of his
set fire on sticks
broiled her sons earnings
and smiled

and she threw in it
like the snooty witch
Macbeth feared
a few leaves of tea
and chanted a hymn
in thanks to him
about the meal she'd brewed

As the heavy downpour
of cats and dogs
tired of rain still enjoying the last
she quickly looked around
and waddled to the earthen pot
slid a few fingers
and remembered of honey her husband brought
also of times that he called her, while
he slid in and out of her
she quickly dismissed
of all that exists
that shan't

and then after a she ladled the brew
She looked up at her son
he smiled back, too

'Mommy', he purred against her leg
as she handed him some piping hot tea
i love it when you cook some tea

She laughed her empty stomach off
as she watched him slurp
the dainty cup
it was of silver
gifted on her wedding day
again she remembered the night
that went astray
And he circled the brims with his tongue
like mister had against her lip

she dismissed those thoughts again
How funny, tea reminded her
of all of her past, again and again