in my subconscious

In my subconscious

Searched to equilibrate water in my head

To know if we cared enough

Hazy images appeared in the shadows

It seemed a mascara, black liquid eyeliner, face foundation, white teeth,

Pointed shoes, maybe sneakers, a dark horse,

A Parisian chick, a scythe, a dark red coffin, a wolf, a snake

tu es l'amour de ma vie

This gale-force wind like dream

I would still love it

If only—

To wake up next to you

Arms locked one morning

To meet your sleepy eyes and kiss your warm coveted lips.



How easy it is to push a button,

how easy it is to cause some waves,

easy to make noise in silence

easy to frost in the snow

to want someone

to be a couple but not really


but with one blow of a secret–


everything, everything simply 

becomes flat.

Out there

Out there I looked for warmth

A blanket, a mattress, a cushion to lie on

But more importantly,

For his heated skin, fiery eyes and soft whispers

I’d like to leave an impression


Out there I looked to reaffirm

What I felt on the inside

It seemed the coals were burning velvety

His skin was a mat, a not so typical mat—

On the floor a contrast of the cold

A lure to the bold

To lick, to taste, to accentuate

the truth forgotten;

a knowledge to behold


Fire ablaze constantly

It stopped the sound of an old harp strummed by the wind


The evening stalked for branches of the moon to cloak the earth

Dim life for a dab of light

This fire brought by two huddling pawns squeaking discreetly—

Out there; away from the ordinary


Home was a distortion of raindrops on air

rain dropped to smash the earth with aggression

As it pulverized my desire to perfection

And ‘home’ became a boundless pool of trepidation


Out there I found a man

Who filled my cup with tiny leaves of grass

and on the field, we rested our backs to dream a moment to last


to dream the moment to last..



a game on the b-e-d

Thrust me with the music you sing

The phantom that lives up in the air

Beat me with so much pain

The pain of dancing under the rain

Disintegrate me with your natural scent

my vein is aching, it wants some passion

from your skin.

Just shove me with intense groaning

I like the sound of the buzzer.

I say, the statement is


 I don’t say WHO?

Should we invite a referee?

during a game on the b_d?


Press the buzzer… buzz…buzz…buzz..

Those lips, they do linger

Those lips-poem by april




that face that shivers whether to take on a radiant smile or just to tear it down

I seem foolish but I can’t help giggle inside my core.

preventing me from moving on

everything is resurrected and I thought now is here–

your mouth that snows

is filled with mint and clover

these eyes that meet your lips

write so much breath to breath

do your eyes see the whole kaboom?

What the lips rejoice in times of trouble?

From the coldest whites to kisses so high

Generally, there’s more desire than there’s to say

From beneath your clothes to my warmest bosom

If there’s a way to pacify it or

Perhaps a way to let it be unnoticed;

When suddenly that heart is filmed in your eyes

And your eyes let out the view of the magical—

I’m at a state of pause.

Darling, this heartache that speaks without words

Such a wake up call for you;

I’d like to shake those inexcusable lips

Wreck them all with the purest dew



That body can no longer hold

Those lips, they do linger with a smile so gentle.

that face that shivers whether to take on a radiant smile or just tear it down

I seem foolish but I can’t help giggle inside my core.

preventing me from moving on

everything is resurrected and I thought now is here.


To a particular man I know little

…and in the corner I found him silent

head low, slouched, exhausted

a lot of things can be said about him

yet he was silent like a fetus in a woman’s womb

he is a man—

a man without a story

in a book left in my closet–

such a mystery filled only with

dots and dashes

But who’s to say–

from all the rumors

his heart is lost—

Lost to a tribe of the inner persona;

familiar to none.

But he loves and does love hard;

a beauty concealed by a mechanism

he called defense.

‘they’ say we need more than just thoroughfares

his body can try to be out going but truly, a contrast of what’s inside his soul.

But I have his name

his number,

his poems,

his faces,


often I get brain freeze–

how interesting I only have these; little to nothing at all–

and I call him unpredictable.

His wind storms, it’s never calm

it cuts off trees and breaks glass windows

cos pain leaves him an element of blank_________.

Oh yes he does love and love so hard

or rather before his mind denies his heart.

His heart

is a silk woven myriads of wonderful stories

his eyes are the kindest behind all his frozen secrets

He is a fine man with such wildness in his bones

so beautiful, beautiful only if it is known.

To a particular man I know little

His hand is warm.

his aura a demon, people run for the hills–

He is a factory of oddity,

his heart a mayonnaise of unspoken words at the mere touch of cold philosophy—

To which, I often err his sadness for coldness and I clip his Angel wings.

rural to urban, 

to a painter’s house or just beach bumming

his lips are dyed of the colors of the landscape

..and his mind in awe of eccentricity

His life a fold of folded folds

searching for a space to rest as his home

women are illusions; children are provisions

he searches the nooks and the alleys oh but,

steps back not to see something

such a hassel-free, if only–

to find whom he intends to be


the one thing he seeks and shall ever find—

is the thing he puts aside.