I've been backing 

Away

From the edge of 

Your pier...

It's a new mating 

Dance

With your love,

And my fear...

...And the Death 

From above 

Is the Cherry 

You crave...

Always under the 

Gun,

In this Home 

Of the Brave!...

You make me an 

Offer...

...Stooped...

I kissed your ring...

...Exhausting the 

Leaves

From the scorched

Trees that swing...

Switch Angel's

Effigy...

...Been twice

Denied...

But that's how

The ball of wax

Upholds her

Time...

I've been backing

Away

From the edge of

Your pier...

It's a new mating

Dance

With your love,

And my fear...

...And the Death

From above

Is the Cherry

You crave...

Always under the

Gun,

In this Home

Of the Brave!...

...Doesn't mean,

Babe,

That I gave up the

Ghost...

...You've lost sight,

And stumbled 

Below my impulse...

And now in the dark,

Only guided by

Touch...

...Where have you

Flown to?...

...I've crawled 

Through the brush...

I've been backing

Away

From the edge of

Your pier...

It's a new mating

Dance

With your love,

And my fear...

...And the Death

From above

Is the Cherry

You crave...

Always under the

Gun,

In this Home

Of the Brave!...

©

2017

Bunny Villaire 

 Write about an injustice:

 Heart pounding, boiling, a flashing white hot rage of anger spills over, a tidal wave of        

       unrepentant fury. I gaze upon the golden plains, the rising mountainous crusts 

           that bubble and simmer from the heat of passionate hands. What have I 

              done? What curse has befallen me, what sin is so great and so terrible

                  that it should so belittle me, so humiliate me? A faint whiff, a 

                     fading wisp of a memory flutters in front of me that frays

                        and fractures as my fingers stretch out, as I try and

                             make it whole again. Wafting, wading, will

                               my desire be fulfilled? Will taste rectify?

                                   I long, I yearn as a soul craves the

                                      loving touch of the familiar.

                                         The tender kiss of lovers

                                            embrace. Alas, should

                                               dark clouds that

                                                  blossom on 

                                                   the cracks

                                                    of mine

                                                     heart.

                                                        I

                                                      told,

                                                    begged, 

                                                pleaded with 

                                              them. Absolutely, 

                        explicitly, unequivocally: no olives on my pizza. 

If he could

She could

Dream up of galaxies

In purple did it dream, in water did it dream

In blue and pink and aquamarine did it dream

Mirrors under bridges held in the hands of dolls, reflecting his image, while bearing his sword of undying love

To the fair maiden-a girl of about eighteen

He jumped stark naked in in the water for her, to propose his love for her

She was taken aback, not by his request but by his bravery-for it was February

How cold he must of been

Their lips ate each other, so hungry they must of been

Love is funny

I want the ceiling of the bridge to be covered in paper butterflies

I want little mirrors to dangle and shine

I want the water to run over our bodies, and here it will be when we die

If he could

She could

Dream up of such things

I sigh in deep shame.

It’s the same every time;

Division, hate and loss.

Repeating history unknowingly,

Unwittingly.

Though,

There is beauty.

There is light.

There is divinity.

There is sight.

Love stretched some;

Their hearts filled to the brim.

I see a pair 

So different,

Yet so in sync.

And so I take them.

Far from this world.

They have been chosen.

To guide the new world.

A man who feels just as much as he

Does.

A woman who dares just as much as she

Yearns.

They are not above all.

But there are exemplary;

An original,

A pure,

A revolutionized

Model

Of humankind.

In their new home

They wander.

They admire.

They ponder;

At all the gifts

In abundance.

They create.

They grow.

They negate;

Any hate or

Gate—

Way

To the ugly past.

For he is thee,

She is me,

I am you,

And we are we.

Life is simple

Again.

Life is balanced

Again.

We embrace one another.

We embrace the light

And the ground.

We listen

For the sound

Of my beckoning;

Which will herd

This new world

Worthy of—

Love

Unbounded—

Spirit

Unprejudiced—

Mind

Unobstructed—

Body.

Nothing less.

Nothing more.

A little blue dot,

Aside a bright yellow star;

A horizon to separate land from sky.

Alone it looks,

Maybe a little company?

Boom! A Universe.

Oh! I almost forgot,

Such captivating are the curves;

Sprinkles, done with the cells.

The land! Yes the land,

A place for the magnificent to stroll;

Now, lets have a look;

Aww, the little blue dot,

Isn't just a little blue dot anymore,

The best creation of all, it is!

From Earth or from space,

Viewers, the panorama amaze;

A beauty like no other.

Even the touch and the smell,

Now that's swell;

Damn! I'm proud of myself.

Not my real name, but could be.

I went through some really rough times.

Always with a small pair of eyes

Looking up at me for strength,

reason, explanation.

Finally she asked me why

All these bad things were happening.

Why did he leave us?

Why is the world turning upside down?

The only answer I could think of

was bad magic.

After that, when things went wrong

She looked at me and we laughed

Instead of crying....and she said

It's just bad magic, Mom <3

I would not exist but for the emotions of the human heart

Made to express many layers from the depths of sorrow to the heights of joy

I am kin with royalty, with sages, and with the beggar boy

I dance with unequaled beauty in the eyes of a bride

I am the voice of the broken heart when words cannot be found

I am the outpouring of fullness on the cheek going down

I flood and wash the soul into a fresh new start

Giving a much sought for rest when I am finally spent

A smile breaks through and no one wonders where I went

I am the diamond that glitters a whole lifetime

A currency used by all, through a millennia of years

I am the God given gift called tears

Heaven and hell?

I knew them well!

And in between

On the glassy green,

The doldrums cast their spell.

I helped a few

--And hurt some, too.

Weather-torn,

With rigging worn,

I won and lost and grew.

I lived with pain

Like a hurricane,

And loved life so--

But let it go,

And sailed from the traveled lane.

Step by step

I try to relax

This trek seems to never end

Walking life's railroad tracks

No end is in sight

Thinking about all my life's acts

I made so many mistakes

Walking life's railroad tracks

My mind is flooded with memories

What is myth and what are facts?

Wondering if this journey will stop

Walking life's railroad tracks

Some days I wish for a shorter trip

As my anxiety attacks

One step just leads to numerous others

Walking life's railroad tracks

You there. Stranger. 

Sometimes, I think I see you more clearly than I see myself.

Or is it that I see myself, reflected?

We're a species of reflection, humans. 

Didn't you know?

Hungry to glimpse something opposite of that unbearable loneliness. Maybe just to see that we're worthy of something else, sometimes. 

I wonder at your point of view. 

What ground your gaze covers day-in, day-out.

A voracious perspective.

Which of ours matters the most?

If at all.

Maybe the lines can blur, this moral high checked by lows of shame, but 

You do not drop your eyes.

You meet my gaze,

Eyes so strong, so 

Steady.

The images you show me, beyond your iris,

Bear no guilt.

Flickers of regret, missed opportunity,

These I see, behind the curtain 

Of your sense of self,

The light 

Behind 

Your

Stare.

Do you see me, stranger? 

Through the windows of your glass house?

In this looking glass I call your eyes, I can't tell if you're understanding,

Or losing me in the pit of your pupils.

Do you lose time this way, too?

Wondering at those depths.

Pondering the void.

Will you find anything?

That is,

If you search.

It's now,

Staring into this 

Silver-laced existence,

Boring into this 

Oddly smooth uncertainty,

Looking into these 

Twin

Mirrors hanging,

That I think the 

Ultimate question is,

Will I?