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Inks and Verses
Spotlight Poem of the Week
Odds and Ends
lust in emotion
Odd Odes
Heart and Soul
Bubble Bath
mixed nuts
Short Cuts
Dark Room
Blank Stare
Short Short Stories
Home is in the Heart
Orange Marmalade
Shades of Lilac
Seasons in the Sun
All About Eve
Sonic Doom
Inner Circle

I am a rover--

treading on hard ground, walking on thin ice and hanging in the air

I am a rover--

a tireless walker, an impulsive searcher, trying to find my right place in the sun

I am a rover--

an aimless traveler, a fearless adventurer

I am a rover--

always on the run

I am a rover--

a wandering soul on the road to nowhere...

I am a nomad and a vagrant at heart

I am what I am



Designer’s Pet

Looking through the colored glass eyes
I can see you clad with nothing on but
Radiant blue flowers like a bulletproof vest pasted on
Your bare chest and acting like a woman possessed
By kindred spirits of the Vogue world. In a hurry you
Dashed into a waiting black limop and sped off towards
The Rue de la Concorde. A crystal goblet held
In a pale hand, filled with the spirit of red Bordeaux,
Under the influence you let go of yourself
And walked into the ramp of sorrows.



The Bumbling Fool's Folly

The pleasure of a seductive mind
Brought my soul into a misplaced notion
Of wonderful ecstasy.

Drawing lost voices from the
Abyss of a tortured mindset

Liberating a breathtaking plea
Of one's foolish existence.

Like a busted seesaw
I teetered on the brink of my own folly.

Too late to pull up and save myself from the great catastrophe
As the dark shade of black smoke began to smolder my hazy judgment

I fell into the final stage of dazzling despair.




 The Executioner

Archetypal seals disguised as newsprint

Between sheets, stand pretentious laden behavior

Where particular decisions are heaped on smoldering papers.


Behind bits of daytime peanuts and dirty shoes

Is the reality of his world; thoughts overflowed with indifference

As the pencil wedged in his calloused fingers murdered all traces of tortured phrase.


In the room, where difficult metaphors are common as pebbles in the sand

His unshakeable faith will always ring true to anyone even if the pretenders

Tried to dazzle him with their pseudo- intellectual discourse on backroom sorcery.


They will always be unsuccessful in their quest

And everything will boomerang on their shameless face

For in his penmanship, you'll see his philosophical views

That spits a highly-strung magic of the Gospel Truth-


The Pen is always Mightier than the Sword.



The Sad Cafe

Under the umbrellas of the French Café

People are talking with empty heads

Nibbling on some cookies while

At the same time drinking their cold espresso.


Their cultured laughter in the quiet evening air

Drowns the whispered conversations of lovers in despair

While some people smile at strangers for no reason at all.


They are entitled to their moments of indiscretion

For tomorrow, the seats will be taken and their faces unseen

As the waiter asked me and I told him, "Make mine, Cappuccino."


 Lost Boys 

I distinctly remember:

the scent of the air then

fresh lemon and Havana cigars

and the black light that dances on her lips

that made me shivered in silent ecstasy.


Everyone is wide-awake, patiently

sipping beer and brandy, munching on fried garlic mushrooms

and salted peanuts as they waited for the grand finale.


Her choreographed movements, silenced the noisy crowd

hypnotizing everyone for the longest time...


When the music stopped

we rose and walked out as if frozen in time


Seeing heaven for the first time

silly thoughts circled in our young minds

and believed that weve grown overnight

from boys

to men.



Moon Dance

The moment she walks in

The room was filled with her scent

Dressed in a blue velvet dress

She glides like a damsel in distress.


She walked into the ballroom

With head up high and glaring confidence

Of a woman possessed by the spirits of the glass

She gestured at the man in white

And blew a kiss from across his chair

As she danced to the tune of the Clair de Lune.



Cloaked by lightning and thunder,
Swimming along the rough and murky waters
Trying to keep my spirits afloat.

Tasting the salty sea

I could feel the ice, colder than anything,
stabbing and pricking my skin, numbing my senses.

I fought with all my might, but fatigue sets in.
I drifted into the ocean, blanketed by the dark.

Cocooned in the mist, resting on cold emptiness.

From afar, I caught sight of the light,

Clutching courage into my heart;
I headed for the glowing embers.

An obstinate quiet and cloistered calm
Crept into the shadows of my being,

Liberating my mind from the blight of
Sadness and grief

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