thopes’s blog

One love, multitude versions

Inside me, an impossible muse

God-head of creation, explodes

A fountain of cool spring, deep

In warm depths of mind, lukewarm

Feelings wash all over, comforting

Killing any desire for desire itself

Only one love, multiplies in

Uncontrollable surges, giving

My fevered brain a resting lap

A shiver arising with a touch of hand

That is all there needs to be done

To make love with my one love

Hold hands, forever intertwined

Survival is not a game
It is a consequence
of conforming with the world
It is a balance
of someone’s love
against someone’s hatred
When forgiveness is only
a word that arises
from a loved heart
then a heart bereft of love
plans rebellion
When forgiveness is
a word that encompasses
the heart, loved or unloved
then life is art
sketched with pain
but still art, not war
My survival is an art
embroiled in people’s games
My truth will then perhaps end the game
Because truth alone prevails
When all else fails

don’t love me, i am beyond
the horizon of your need, take
my hand and lead, to the
sky above the dreams, of my
childish imagination, where
a prince and a fairy, dance
to a soulful melody, forever
and ever till silence reigns;
The silence is here, the prince
turned to a frog and the fairy
is in rags, searching for the tune
that she used to sing, alas
forever and ever, silence reigns

Let me, live, in your head

To see, how, you take love to bed

And how you turn, life, into a glorious thirst

I wish you’d say, be my guest, stay

Absorb, whatever wisdom, comes your way

But don’t leave, before, I drink from your well

And I’ll let you, drink, off my eyes

All the love, that drips, in honey-drop lies

To slake your thirst, of decades, in a moment’s ecstasy

But before I leave, I’ll ask, friend

What mysterious disease, brought, you to this bend

Where, now, do you go from here with your lovely head

And then I find, in dread, I am trapped

Caught in your head, to a bed, strapped

You say you’ll walk, till the end of time, perpetually mused

And I am no less amused…

 North star—his guiding light, a song in his heart

On galaxy’s playground, he plays ball, gleeful

The cheer in his heart defies gravity but

There in the self-same heart, also the black hole

Into the emptiness of which he disappears once in a while

He satellites around the vastness of his mind

And in this suspended animation of his existence

On his traveler mind of puny feet

Walking the milky way of his imaginations

He thinks himself larger than the whole universe

Every morning, wake up ,to a cup of coffee

Potter around, with daily rituals

Waste some words, on disappearing muses

Cry your emptiness, within bathroom walls

Laugh your fears, with friends online

And what does your family get?

A skeleton who walks the talk–Till death do we part

Already dead, but part alive, eats and shits

Yet, breathes not a word, about how it is

Still trying to figure out, what the future holds

For skeletons who walk the talk, demurely, by the side

And for skeletons who don’t, buried six feet down

Do they find the final resting place?

Or wake up, in a different world, to a cup of coffee

Potter around, with daily rituals

Waste some words on disappearing muses

Cry, laugh but walk a different talk

Down the same old path, to buried doom

How many lifetimes do we need

To walk all our talks

To realize all our needs?

My eyes hide nothin– not stories, or pain, joy, or desire; Beneath the mop of wild hair, carefully tied in a ponytail is a head– unruly, practically insane, trying to peek out through the window of my eyes, hiding nothing; Yes, clearly the rains, stokes my imagination and my eyes light up, like smoking chimneys,over warm fire; And you? What else but the cool breeze, blowing in Through accidently open windows, adding flames to fire; I smile, tickled by the goose-bumps that sprout on my caramel skin, and you, play with a strand of hair curling and falling on my forehead;yet, I’ll be cruel, I’ll tuck the strand of hair behind my ear and I’ll push you out of my range of desire and shut the windows; Yes, all the windows that bespake of my honest madness and sleep,drenched, through the raging storm, both within and without

As the hammer hit, you smiled, victorious and walked

to claim me– demure and innocent, happy, feeling valuable

to be taken home by theboldest and highest bidder;

You stood me in that corner, on the landing, of

the staircase, alone and hesitant, mona lisasque,

not sure whether I should really, really break into a smile;

 a few years you cared, you polished, you dusted, you cleaned

and drew the curtains now and then to sun me,

and proudly displayed me to the visiting public

my stone heart melted but too soon dark despair set in

you wouldn’t care, you hurried past me on the way

to your office, without a smile or a nod, or a faint

acknowledgement of my presence and I wilted

I stood there in that corner, statuesque, bronzed and antique

Until one day you moved out, leaving me behind and

A new tenant moved in and he, went about re-decorating,

renovating, but he noticed me, apreciated perhaps for

he dusted the film of despair glazed over my eyes and

hung a mirror on the opposite wall, planted a money plant beside

And I looked at my reflection and felt,stirrings of life

And I awakened to a new dawn again, feeling strong inside,

Knowing the years had only added on value and

I need only weigh my worth, in that admirer’s eye

Who places a mirror in front of me and a living plant by my side

And says, “Look, you are as beautiful as you see with your eyes,

I can only provide the mirror for you to look inside and

 you are as alive as the green in your side,

I have put a plant beside you but you have to try”

I heard, I understood and I smiled.

A kitty full of delusions, illusions and hallucinations

I bring and they escape through a hole in my head

as poetry, don’t try to catch them and interpret

meaning out of it, they live momentary lives and die

in your dreams and fantasies; prisoners of emotions

they seek escape into the surreal skies, living parallel lives

they enter the throes of a stranger’s house and choose

a corner where they can sleep, cocooned in warmth and love

given without askance, as to why in the first place did they escape

or seek to be free, and whether they’ll stay forever or else

drill a hole again and escape into another’s dream, my poems

they seek no shelter, no understanding or acceptance, they seek

to rest a while, in the comforts of your mind , as they hop, skip, jump

and run their marathon over valleys, rivers and hills; but stranger,

you have been kind, you have given water to drink and even if

I reach the end of time I’ll remember your gift, you gave me a lap

to rest my mad, mad, little head filled with delusional poetry

This is one song that has me swayin, croonin and groovin. Sung at a leisurely pace and with lazy lyrics to match this one is for keeps. The image of a lady on the dance floor who knows her moves emerges and the man, admiring sometimes, sometimes a partner. Full of grace, this song is everything comfort between man and woman should be….sigh!





When marimba rhythms start to play
Dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with ease
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me

Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have the magic technique
When we sway I go weak

I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now

Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear, but my eyes will see only you
Only you have the magic technique
When we sway I go weak

I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now
You know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now