Category: Poetry

Captain of the Ark

In the grey and smoky fog of the dark and rainy street
Where youthful souls of corpses meet
A kindred spirit, so they don’t feel so alone,
A wild-eyed misfit prophet watches them run
Occasionally glancing at some banality on his smartphone 

No one knew he was there
Despite, or perhaps because of, the electric horror of what remained of his hair
He didn’t want their friendship
He told himself, as his heart sank like a scuttled ship
Into a dank abyss
Of diaphanous purposelessness 

All the dreams had already been had
But none of them came true
His cynicism would not survive the irony that the dream that wasn’t bad
He would have while awake, while wondering what to do 

He knew how he would be crucified
Ever since the dust-covered and war-torn months of 2005 

When his colleague trampled his nation’s honors
By the mouth of the enemy fellatiated
Our world-worn hero’s face was too ugly to be next to hers
So their answer was that he be castigated 

The dream one achieves when they escape their life’s custom
Until they scroll through their rolodex to see that they’re lonesome 

A curse one breaks with serendipity 

And then she was there
The angel he longed to see
Her sinews wrapped in delicious sweet milk
Her shoulders glazed by a honey cascade of hair
What would she make of his ilk
What does she see in me 

She didn’t reject his curious stare
If she were ugly, no one would care
Their murderous gaze wasn’t even skin deep
While he prayed the Lord her soul to keep 

With their pitchforks and cocktails of turpentine
The infernal masses would no longer contain their attacks
In their campaign against our friendly neighborhood Frankenstein
In order to protect their normal from facts 

A baby with harp and angel’s wings
Painted on vaulted ceilings among other things
In fever dreams above his head
He clutched the cold sheets beside him in bed 

The mysterious writers called it a boat
In that confusing old book they wrote
Then they called it a gold-plated box
In those tales not too different from Goldilocks 

What is this thing that the Philistines stole
It’s really just a human soul
It contains the law of God and lawgiver’s staff
But Leviathan has successfully split it in half 

The ticking of seconds
The conformity of chromosomes
Endless discussions for psychic brigands
Covering their heads in tinfoil domes 

For better or worse, the ark has been opened
And no one knows how this journey will end
How dare he make a friend
A happy finale makes the masses shudder
But in her hands is the rudder
There is no other 

They don’t get to tell me who I enjoy
Or whether it’s a girl or boy
Or quibble about too old or young
My words and kisses come from MY tongue 


You are so long overdue
For a poem that describes you
The effect you have on my heart
Is a divinely crafted art
Possessed by no woman before
Since before the days of yore 

Your beauty is a gleaming sigil
Of an angel’s unceasing vigil
That brought you to earth near to me
In my days of emotional entropy
Your smile, your laugh brings such joy
As to make me a man from a boy 

You fuel passion to my spirit
With every second you are near it
I love you my dearest Ana Maria Mironescu
And no fairy or pixie compares to you
Therefore my heart’s song is just a hum
Until the time when you come 

I am the Ocean

I am the ocean
Or really my heart is
A victim of furious emotion
Vulnerable to any cute Ms.
Who tricks me into daring
To trust that she can forgive
To believe that she is caring
And make love a life to live 

I am the sea
A source of life
To she who comes to me
I will fill her life
With adventure and passion
By my soul-changing aqua ink
In an overwhelming fashion
Through which I give her my drink 

I am the water
Utterly malleable
A dangerous father
For the one so fallible
To take my fish on the wrong day
In which I cover her with my waves
So that my love goes away
With no one there who saves 

However, she will not die in my deep
But in the depths of her loneliness
Her soul will not be mine to keep
In romantic and sensual holiness
Her love will just be a wasteland
Of scorpions and desert
With no sea eagle to take her hand
And to fly her from the hurt 

A Poem I Wrote to Help with Insomnia

I lay awake very late
Contemplating my first date
With the perfect girl of my dreams
And my thoughts begin to produce reams
Of words of love and tenderness
As we sojourn through a wilderness
Of seemingly grand adventure
Which forces us to conjecture
About the character of our spirits
And the deeply hidden deposits
Of ash and pixie dust within us
And the things that make us behave thus

And we wonder if it’s our fault
Or if it’s some sort of gestalt
That gives us some kind of feature
And makes us a different sort of creature:
One that is capable of a kind of love
That is seen only in the form of a dove
Soaring up high in the skies
Above all the betrayal and lies
Unlike the citizens of this age
Who lash out in hate and rage 

I dream that one day we will be together
Walking hand in hand forever
Lending our strength to each other
Like a sister and brother
Only we’ll have a special kind of connection
Which transcends mental circumspection
And involves our electrified bodies
Conjuring brilliant rhapsodies
Of unbridled physical passion
Which will be the carnification
Of the purest form of worship
In a holy kind of relationship
For it is deep inside her
That I will become the presider
Of the divine ceremony
Of a spiritual matrimony
And the perfect union of souls
Which has always been the chief of my goals

Moonlight Song

In the dark of the forest
I have spotted my dearest
Walking tenderly under La Lune
Awaiting the siren song of my swoon 

I long to sink myself into her
To feel what she is down under
To wrench the light from the darkness within her
To drink her lumens with the fury of thunder 

For then will her soul be stored within me
And our intimacy will no longer be just friendly
Our moonlit walks in the dark will be a carnival
With the passion between us expressing the carnal 

I’ll feed her moonlight on a silver spoon
Compared to my devotion there is no greater boon
Sealed in soul bond by Seluna’s moon
Our howls of joy will define the night as a metronome’s tune