10 poems I wrote – loved by many!

‘Stations of Nature’

the four stages,
reflecting those ages
Of man… and his minions,
‘under trapdoors descending
Past mirror balls dusty lights ..until the end,
Dream mystic psychopaths bend,
Where lavender-scented souls try to repair themselves,
At last! Sun!… stunned summer!
Fresh splashes of sand-dappled beach castling duels,
Smelling grilled banquets inside zinc dumped fools.
The zenith of the Sun Goddess, the twinkle of jewels,
Horizons of glowing charred puddles,
…still descending, exit stage left,
The chills of the zephyrs freeze your breath,
And tall green oaks, their withered petticoats,
The crispy toasty smells, striped colors to shake,
Those scarves while they play through return fees,
And the beasts of nature run quickly to their lairs.
The crystal witch queen of the whipped southern squalls,
Cast sleet and dark shadows for all,
So frozen troops turn amid icy regrets,
As winter kills the youthful charms in the networks.
.. But listen, the shoots of life are prancing again,
And the carnivals happen by the chance of the smells of oak,
The spring sonnets completing the wheel,
Four stages of man. God’s stations will kneel.


‘In the midst of the tyranny of the hours,
She entertains a storm,
Beneath two falling towers
Strange faces capture the form.

Perceptions bleed into mystery,
shattered clocks,
A tome of faded history
Discovered under those rocks.

and gods of spy posts,
yawning in the farce,
The battlefields lay dying
As jaded angels pass.

The lethargy of the ages,
will fall into dreams
A bus of stages
And feelings galore.

When the time of the Earth sands the glasses,
and sadness passes
Do not count the dream that passes,
That long, tortured breath.

‘In the midst of the tyranny of the hours,
She entertains a storm,
Beneath two falling towers,
The pursuit of boredom shows no contempt.


That boastful, jazz-like lexicon,
Where Broadway dreams light up
The hustle and bustle of midtown,
And Central Park turns yellow at night.

Flamboyant suits romance on Fifth Avenue,
The Plaza and Waldorf come into view with great pomp,
And Radio City and Carnegie Hall,
He spills out big band arrangements to wow the ‘Hattan crowds’.

that freedom girl
With the torch raised high,
While Brooklyn and Queens,
The Bronx sails past.

The Yankees take a big swing,
The crowds cheering loudly,
The roar of the subways,
proud american.

Empire State Building,
rockefeller blue,
mustard on hot dogs,
A New York Review.

bloomingdales and macys,
Tiffany’s at night
madison Square Gardens,
And the pleasure of Times Square.

It is the city of power
The spectacle of the world capital,
New York through the ages
All swagger and glitter!

‘Los Angeles Dream’

Burbank, Pasadena, the glamor of Hollywood,
Rodeo Drive, Sunset live, Boulevard jam.

LAX, sex in Long Beach, fancy in Melrose Place,
Boutique style, in Bel Air, speaks of the West Coast.

Bev’ly Hills, the thrills of Disney, the charm of Brentwood,
Venice Beach, hip-hop beats, a muscular guy’s arm.

Chinatown, downtown, the Hollywood sign,
Summer day, city time in Monterey, LA.

Burbank, Pasadena, the glamor of Hollywood,
Rodeo Drive, Sunset live, Californian cram!


Oh son of sleep,
To spend the night,
And pastel quicksand
filling the souls so light.

Oh son of sleep,
Where do you roam so free?
A kaleidoscopic dreamscape
it bleeds slowly into the sea.

Oh son of sleep,
When the hooded owls call,
unconscious cradles of the forest,
and the lovers of the mother of all.

blessed son of sleep,
To hear those soft sighs,
Your soft breaths fill a cosmos
with hidden truths so wise.

Beloved son of sleep,
between angelic ranks,
Floating silk spun quilted cloud shapes
and the feted bows of Cupid.

Until the closing of a trip,
A dragon’s curse will be,
And winding flowers descending
from where daylight frees us.

Oh son of sleep,
To spend the night,
And pastel quicksand
filling the souls so light.

…. go to sleep.

‘+The Curse of Camelot+’

Listen, a jester’s promise won’t dethrone a queen’s rise,
And the condition of bondage in flames of anger, to the lamentation of God.

Your ardor mutilates the temperate soul that deigns to seek,
The search for a ransom as martyred hope instructs your weak.

On hallowed grounds when knights renounce the Grail’s stain,
While maidens tempt, a bounty’s wages are postponed to dwindle.

‘pon moonlit shores when legendary charms shall cease to be,
The coven’s share of looted wealth for the man to see.

As the weeping twilight will demand a price that none will bear,
The tomb of a monarch that invokes contempt for the rate of storms.

And the heavenly hosts return ‘into the midst of the sacred home,
To guide the charged earthly kingdoms to the path of Heaven

‘Tome of History’

When the tome of history cascades to a recorded end,
And the vessel of the spirit full of joy, without a plague to attend to.

The hours will stall, the ill-tempered promise must cease to dwell,
Restless states, the banshee’s wail will nearly stifle.

Like nomadic monkeys fall enchanted lands and kingdoms,
Mohammed’s whim installed in the tombs will punish them all.

Souls seeking to return to the holy lamb,
And the scale will weigh the value of penance as lovers condemn.

As fortune’s grace will lead young fools to ways of old,
And the realms of magic reveal their wishes to the bloodstained war.

When silken oaths betray a prince as legends grow,
Iniquities multiply and crops sow.

In the midst of chaos, the opportunity for beauty can still return,
The evils of a fallen world bewitch to scorn.

Yet pure souls transcend the darkness of the joyless plains,
And the lament of Christ will pay his fold when love remains.

‘The Moon Goddess’

The doors to perception,
Second left, past Reception…
Wild and crazy, from Elyssian haze
her siren call… the bane of all.
But we must tread and wind the way,
Its heat, though cruel, nourishes every home,
Learn well His song
Don’t fear the curse
The Feminine Wisdom
He has healed His Earth.
Diana, Artemis, Lady of Moonlight,
From the waking dream, the final night…

The doors to perception,
Second left, past Reception.


Damn the scarcity!
That miserable void of need,
of lack, the strict pause
of the madness of the night
and universal laws.
Gold-edged showers trade shower stacks
of chips in the games, of such, you lack! and
Cultured, starched white parties on cultivated lawns
put luxuries for wealthy youth, rebuke the yawns of idle beggars.
Gloomy pain-stained avenues masking burlap-covered lairs,
Away from the nice people who cast hardened, soulless stars.
Oh, such curses on the workless roads, such punishments, such pains,
That they will bow down with industries, to succeed ‘in the midst of their profits, so that
Damn the scarcity!
That miserable void of need,
of lack, the strict pause
to the madness of the night
and universal laws.


that constant, downward spiral… darkness… fall…
‘Did you follow that snow-white rabbit into the depths, Alice?’ silence
‘Did you not notice His naive wit and His temptation?’
Curiosity aroused!
If you climb from your heart-torn landscape…
Descend the marble pagodas of hardened illusions,
Continue beyond those morbid Fates and find the source of Light,
Then you will find those who seek Salvation.
The dark Odyssey will end,
The gloomy fables will cease.
The endless night will break…
And You… will rise… to the Elysian worlds.

No more!


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