The Crypt and Keeper

I am eternal,
I am intellectual,
I see the bad ones
From a mile away.

Me? I'm nobody
I say what's on my mind
But I throw myself into
What I do, every day.

You fool, you don't know
What sorrow you sow
The hurt you ignore
Will be yours tomorrow.

Dude, your ego's showing
Besides, I've got passion
I'm nobody's cleric
But I can go with the flow.

Though my mind sees it all
My heart is so blind
I wish just for once
To feel something inside.

I'm tired of hurt
I see only today
And I'm tired, so tired
Of showing when I cry

Please show me your love

Please show me who

I'll love you if you'll

Do the same for me too.

The anticipatin'
Is intoxicatin'
What do I have to do to win, huh?

I'm still waiting for
The sky to burn with fire
From within my eyes
When the whole world will be engulfed in
Furious passion

Effervescent,
Joyous,
Passion.

Dear Diary (Love Dan)

So it is the winsome siren
That conquers my heart.

Even if for a moment,
This joy springs mellifluous
If not to others, than to me
I won't miss a beat,
I won't just play the cues,

I'll take the reins,
Take the stand.
You can have my hand,
And maybe, just maybe
My heart.

Hey Baby

Don't ask me to address
The nature of my direction.

If only all my stress
Would evaporate with affection.

But instead I take this test
Constant rules like an infection.

Maybe it would be best
To cease my relational dissection.

I don't want to lose,
I just want to love:
But to choose to refuse
Seems the obvious plan
But without love I see
Only pain where I stand.

Please,
Hold my hand.

"A Goodbye and Celebration of What Might Have Been" or "Regret"

How heavy is the kiss goodbye,
For the distant friend,
To usher in the end.

A friend that could have been,
One step closer,
A quaint composer.

Perhaps in her stead,
I'll find solace here,
In the depths of my head,
With my memories dear,

And in fantasies sleep,
Through dreams without end,
That the friend I can't keep,
Is not
On whom
I depend.

My Romantic Nature

Please,

Let me see
That face,
So free.
That grows towards the breeze.

Like flowers to the sun,
Warm,
Fun.
But no daffodil or daisy may
Like you can,
Make me crazy.

And it's hazy
How only you can exist
And yet your presence,
Makes me twist
With effervesence.

My innards swarm,
They are a hive where
Dread insects thrive
On convolution.

So the object of
The rejection is to
Find someone who
Binds themselves to
A list of rules that are
Copacetic with what
My thick brain has
Sluggishly conjured
To bring itself pleasure,

But

Perhaps the outside of the box
Is why it stocks
Empty memories
And silly thoughts.

Oh how I long to hold,
Protect,
Yet still keep my morality intact.

In fact,
The desire to be on fire
Seems bred in!

But maybe I'm just
Inbred.

Wrong and right,
And black and white,
Why do we stop loving when we fight?

Should not we
Disagree,
In an order that borders on
Civility?

But perhaps ardor,
And grandeur
Accompany one another,
And perhaps weakness,
And meekness,
Cannot be second guessed.

Ipsos factos,
Give up the ghost,
And so I set these things to rest.

A Series of Questions Regarding Love and Sex

What is romantic love?

What is the difference between romantic and platonic love?

Does love connect or separate us as individuals?

Is there really a single person with whom you are destined to share the closest bonds of both platonic and romantic love?

Teacher the Talented

Children are amazing!

They are the
Boundless energy of the
Soulless indignity of the
Mindless calamity that we
See.

So forgive not
What will not be forgiven
In you.

Forget not
The important lessons taught
To you.

Winsome Drifter

Jump from topic to topic
Repeat yourself to make it stick

Don't buy your love
From the thrifter
'Cause love will make you
A winsome drifter

Ever lonely, always ceding
Pleasant eyes, always pleading
"Take me away"

And yes, you'll pray,
But never leave the
Hollow home you've
Worked and weaved

As a nest
As a bed
As a rest
For your head

Not the living
Instead
For trouble
For the dead.

Secret Moon

I must confess
Even though I love
To talk

After you leave
I still feel an ache
In my chest.

I won't depress
Because I know
You're happy

But you should know
I love the way
You dress.

So I won't wane
Like the tide
Ebb

But wax philosophical
You make me happy
Insane!

I feel (so) good (but) when (you're) gone.

The Science of Sex

Love and sex.

Let me talk about the Heisenberg uncertainty principle for a moment.

Heh, not.

Love and sex.

Sure, you can separate the two. Love without sex is platonic – sex without love is demonic, and if you’re really desperate you’ll end up histrionic. Heh.

Love and sex.

They belong with each other. They resonate on the same frequency. Sure you can pull them apart, like turning water into hydrogen and oxygen. Just don’t light a match in blind passion, because if you do...

The whole thing will blow up in your face.

Friends, Quiet in the Corner

I dreamt of a land
That flowed sky to sea
With other dreamers
Just like me.

We slid through channels
Plotting cautious course
Eyes full of chaos
And remorse.

What silence we shared
Quietude given
To one another
Eternal.

Some fools want only words
But the quiescent are fulfilled in one another
For noise does naught for none.

Never What?

I looked to the sky
For signs of the weather

And saw that today
I wouldn't have it together

And maybe you won't
Be with me forever

But does that really mean,
That we should never?

Fasting for Long?

Why do you hate me?
Oh murderous saint,
Do not abandon me in my quest,
Lest I faint 'long the way.

The heathens worship in temples,
But I worship alone,
In silence, suffer,
For mine is a cast-aside honor,
The honor of lone-ness.

So do not hate me,
Crying butcher,
Do not scorn my efforts,
Mine is a healing power,
But I cannot heal that which is not broken.

From One Without Romance

“My soul is a passionate dancer; she dances to hidden music which only I can hear. . . . Whatever police the world may prescribe to rule the soul, I refuse to obey them.”

- Bettina Brentano

For my soul dancer:

I have fallen in love. This love may not be for you, but it was brought about by you, for it is you who inspired it. You, my muse of romance, you have caused my mindless attraction; for, I have been overwhelmed by the deep, sharp, shadow of what you signify.

My love is for you, my emblem, my motif. You do not know me, and my heart bursts with aching for I do not know you. I know only of you. I know of your desire for the objective and intellectual, your search for significance, and your longing for love.

Perhaps it is only coincidence that I share your vision. I have no great fondness for fate, either in theory or in practice. My inclination then is to communicate my thoughts so that you might know me more, and be inclined to return the sincere, if somewhat banal, gesture. In this way, we might not lose sight of one another too soon, and we might learn to know one another, both through pleasure and pain.

I have noted your inner calmness. You hold to pretenses of machismo and roughness, but you carry yourself with a natural grace that few have mastered, yet so many attempt to attain. You have shown yourself willing to be open, but seem to have difficulty expressing that openness, reverting to a baser demeanor and avoiding the conflict of inner and outer attitude altogether. I empathize with your predicament, for I too feel the opposing pull of social expectation and intellectual desire, like the twin forces of heart and mind.

I understand that this letter may change nothing, but at the very least I feel a great burden lifted from my shoulders, for at least now I may be honest. I do not know you, not in any real sense, yet I love you. Perhaps not in a romantic way, but in the way of the soul, that eternal being that prods us ever forward. My soul seeks the companionship of similar souls, but how can I know they are similar if they are veiled behind guise and guile? I ask not for your hand, or your heart, or your mind, or even your soul. I ask only that you grant me the opportunity to discover these things through my own effort.

I know you may fear a wound that cuts deeper than most if you allow me, as a surgeon, to peer into the vast inner workings of your very self; however, how can healing take place if you refuse the doctor access? True, the body heals itself with time. Likewise, the heart and mind, with the passage of time, may mend themselves. But the soul, oh the soul, that song sung to heaven with every breath we take, that cannot help but gravitate towards the light.

I fear not a wound, only infection. I fear not love, only life without. I fear not rejection, only the death of my avatar, of that which I love.

Nocturne of Hidden Mystery

"What the hell were you thinking? You know how she gets when she's left alone!"

He cradled her in his arms, and my inmost depths sighed in the way that only the deepest parts of you can.

"Yes, of course. Next time . . . I'll be more careful. I'll remember." My throat was suddenly dry. "That is, there won't be a next time. I'll be here. With her."

"I'm certain you will" he said, his grim pronouncement accompanied by the iciest of nonverbal melodies, a frenzy of minor harmonies twisting and gouging their way through his features. What a surprise, I do think I've heard this one before. Yes, yes I have.

Deutsche

Strangely my fears,
Erupt not in tears,
But dull complacency.

I know I've lost,
A presence dear,
But here
She still holds sway.

Like a queen,
Of a feifdom,
That in my heart lay
So she rules
For now and ever, today.

For tomorrow's dreams,
Are cold, it seems,
And fill my feet with lead
So rules the duchess,
Of propaganda,
"Fear not, do not dread!
For tonight we fear,
Tomorrow we wed!"

It is queer,
This presence dear,
That leaves my heart to ponder,
Whence ever came,
My propensity to grow fonder.

Still, I know now,
That I've learned how,
To live without its call.

But then . . .

What keeps me awake,
When sleep calls me
From 'neath my pillow,
What holds me as a thrall?

Just waiting for fate to pull us back together,
Like gravity causes an orbit,
So we are entwined,
Related, reacting, but alone.