Poetry From Books

Book: A Seekers Reality: Book of Poems  

Imperfections 

Caring is a decision 

Love is the heaven that exists beyond the grasp of passion. 

She, 

Is more than an object of desire. 

She, 

Is more than distance and time. 

She is the magnitude of sacrifice, 

Self is the alter, pride is the offering, 

Choice is the priest. 

Until we understand our hearts call out for love, 

But move in passion. 

We will always see imperfections as excuses, 

Rather than perfections in becoming one. 

Beauty has been blinded, 

 Stolen from the beholder, 

Causing us to be a rolling self-esteem boulder. 

Love imperfections, 

Love her, and the imperfections 

Else fear of imperfections will be the reason why loneliness is perfect for you. 

Book: Soft Touch Of Passions Flame  

Melodies of Intimacy 

Eighty-eight keys unlock a piano’s melody,  

Yet, what unlocks your intimacy?  

Chords of focused love languages,  

Can interlock souls,  

But how does one braid togetherness deeper?  

How do two separate cultures come into one?  

How do black and white extremes  

Come together to make songs and riffs?  

How does frayed chaos  

Come to braided intimacy?  

When does Me flip,  

Becoming We?  

How does the discord of US  

Come together and make music?  

When do broken notes,  

Become streams of sweet sound? 

When does misunderstanding,  

Become more than a speed bump,  

But the mechanism to intertwine deeper?  

Many want to translate love to intimacy,  

Without having basic heart grammar  

The syntax of sensuality is a certificate of appreciation  

Leaving us to wonder is there a degree with  

more meaning  

The depths of intimacy,  

A smile and a tear  

A smile, shining soothing symmetries on our hearts  

A tear, titrating tension in the core of our earnest  

intentions  

The melody of intimacy  

Is grammar of the heart,  

Our deepest desires yearning to communicate  

Our bad grammar producing broken or run-on  

sentences,  

Leaving others to hear a broken note  

Making us realize we need rehearsals  

Rehearsing what it means to be felt accurately 

Book: The Classical Ashes of Beauty  

Modern Culture 

Trying to keep up with modernity 

The meaning of chasing the wind 

Not running fast enough home will be left behind 

Culture is cult’s maternity 

Forever birthing trends dissipating in eternity 

Our souls and culture fidget trying to connect, do they ever intertwine 

Desire to be self an infraction ultimately being fined 

Is everyone part of an unknown fraternity 

Leaving me to stare at a shadow of who I am 

Cloaking in darkness who I want to be 

Yet there is something brewing behind culture’s scam 

Growing tall, calling out to be free 

The natural makes the fabricated a fraud and sham 

Hope calls out like an unrested banshee