Tag Archives: Ambrosia

The Importance of Muse (6)

In the infinite chaos of perpetually recycled stardust,

The remnants of the big bang reveal to me secrets,

Long misunderstood,

There is an order created by the Ether,

Readily apparent to those who have vision,

Versus those who merely see,

Those who listen,

Versus those who merely hear,

For out in that dark void there exists a vibrancy,

Resonating inside the souls of poets since time immemorial,

A resplendent beauty that unlocks a passion necessary,

To adulate the treasured honour of Muse’s presence,

Your presence,

I adore you,

I love you,

Figurative and literal,

In ways you will never, could never understand,

Despite these hopeless attempts to be

Conduit for the invisible,


Not just the royal you, so often presented,

But the perfectly imperfect package,

That stands before me at the ready,

Laying bare your soul,

That I too may do the same,

As these words require

And my literary masters demand.

As said before,

Here, time and again,

The importance of Muse can not be inconspicuous,

For she is an overstatement of all that I deign necessary,

To prevent my emotional suicide,

Loosing my gift in a series of meager attempts,

To force what is not there,

In her absence,
Your absence,
I am nothing but a fool with words,

Though when she comes,

Touching me deep with in,

Those words spill out from me,

Seductive and instructive,

More readily than I can breathe,

Effortless as her inspiration unlocks the key,

That liberates my creative flow,


Ebb and rip,

The gravity of her presence,

The tides lead me away from my inner storm,

Toward an awaiting Nirvana,

Whereby the touch of her lips,

Is the ambrosia from which I drink,

Understanding completely the full nature of love,

One only understood by those caught in the rapture,

And endless delight,

Of that perfect phrase,

Capturing a spirit that only you can see,

Only I,

Can see,


It so often seems,

That between those moments,

Where splendor presents itself in veiled opportunities,

That the broken shards of me,

Cut deep,

Sending me further into an abyss,

A loving idiot savant,

Where my Black Dog howls,

As I plead with the Ether,

And my Ladies of the night,

Serendipity, Destiny and Fate,

To once more grace me,

Instruct and guide me,

To that necessary ingredient,


Which fuels these tomes,


An expected necessity,

Cherishing what I see,

What I know,

What I am,


Wordsmith of Muse.


Your importance,

Is akin to a mother’s milk,

To a new born child,

A pirouette to a ballerina,

A canvas to Picasso,

And a great green light for Gatsby,

And yet tragically,

My providence,

As guided by that frenzied Ether I so adore and praise,

Finds me Daisy,

Rather than as a star cross’d lover,

And yet I persist,

I rise,

I look to the heavens,

Praising even the momentary glimpse,

Of true beauty,

Inside your soul,


That either none have, could or can see,

But I,

Guided by nature’s call to enthused benevolence,

To touch another as they touch me,

As you touch me,

So yes, Muse,

Your importance is greater than you may ever know.

I find myself in a state of flux,

A perilous and hazardous precinct,

Where my greatest wish,

Becomes my greatest downfall,

Always has been,

Since as early as the Ether first blessed me,

With these heart-rending efforts,

Dancing to the elegance of these ethereal gifts,

Presented by the Ether,

In a form that could only be you,


For even those few moments,

Where I get to bask in the sentiments,

Those I crave more than anything else,

Even if for a panicked instant,

As I contemplate the predictable disappearance,

As happens each and every time,

Just as quickly as you arrived,

The infinitely obvious precision of my life,


Left with these words as evidence,

Of a true gem,


The very real importance of Muse,

If I am to survive,

Non Omnis Moriar.



You are at once my everything,

And nothing,

For I can only seize,

What the Ether permits,

And it is a fickle master,

Guiding these fingers,

As they flicker with the genius, you inspire,

To some the foundation of a delusion of grandeur,

Those that could never understand,

For at least a while,

Never quite long enough,

Making the best of it,

As I bask in the prismatic resplendence of your soul,

The radiance of your smile,

The intense secrets behind those dancing eyes,

And the subtle way that even the simple act of walking,

Can alight in me an abstract prospect,

Captured in an instant, herein,

For you,

For posterity,

For you are Muse,

And without you,

I am lost in Dante’s circles of Hell,

As Virgil laughs,

And The Lost Generation once more consoles me.


With an intense vanity,

I fumble like a school child,

Scribbling outside the lines,

Hoping that you might see,

That Pandora’s curiosity,

Resulted in the very box that needs to be open,

If I am to thrive,

If I am to know genuine bliss,

For that is truly what you force me to aspire,

Climbing higher and higher,

Inside a drug induced fury,

Of pheromones clashing,

Serotonin dashing,

Dopamine slashing and adrenaline rushing,

And yet,

Like Hemingway’s haunting presence in my life,

That one true sentence,

That might finally get you,

Royal or otherwise,


To see,

To feel,

To believe,

To hold fast,

Might understand,

What even I myself can not,


If I am to thrive,

It is only Muse,

Because of you,

All I imagine,

All you are.

The importance of Muse,

Of you,

Royal and otherwise,

Creates all I am,

All I will ever be,

The dutiful secretary,

Of the Ether’s grace,

Giving me moments of significance,

That are entirely dependent,

On you,




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What Dreams MAY Come



These words fall not upon deaf ears

Or an erstwhile impenetrable soul,


These words enter through loving eyes,

Knowing that these sentiments rare,

Are the truest form of me,

Expressed herein,


Though feared lost in translation,

Cultural mores,

Yet here I stand defiant,

Like a child at play,

With you,

Tickling the fancy of your greatest desires,

Roaming free and invited into the dreams you seek,

Piercing the armor that you so deftly have created,

Come to you like a knight,

In tales of yonder,

Where the damsel in distress,


Is saved,

Figuratively and literally,

By me,

Here and now!


These words enter into your mind,

Understood by ripe passion,

Filter free from worry,

That they may alight your greatest fantasies,

Here and now,

Of the life you crave,

The life you deserve,

The life I’d like to make with you,


These words enter you like water,

Finding the path of least resistance,

Where they hit right at the heart of you,

Like the gods ambrosia,

Intoxicating you with a restored vision,



For what was and what could be,

With you,

For you,

For us,



These words could unlock the chambers of your insecurity,

Demanding nothing more of you,

Than that delicious smile,

The one that lights up every room,

With your eyes dancing like an inverse moon,


By you,

I will go in this way,

Discovering that what may be may be,


To this,

At the head wondering, wandering and wishing,

To share with you,

Every moment,

Perfect, imperfect and all together plain,

Though with you,

None could be plain,

For you are like that fairy tale princess,

And I a low suitor,

Longing to raise up to become that knight,

To take you to the life you’ve always sought,


Perchance these words restore that faith lost,

For reasons inconsequential,

That neither define me nor you,

Nor the clear admiration and adoration that we share,


These words,

Beg the reason of reason released,

For in affairs such as these,

The heart and soul,

There need not be reasons,

Only compassion,


Trust and the daily affirmation,

That I am yours,

And you are mine.


These words,

Could possibly heal your wounds,

Could possibly reveal you to you,

And thus more to me,

Beyond the naked expression of beauty that I have

Already born witness to,

Captured as I have been,

By the radiance of you,

Bedazzled by the awe that you inspire,

Uplifted by your sweet gentleness,




For you to see,

Who I am,

Who I seek to be,

With you…


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The Moon and The Sun

Containing an insatiable excitement,

Strikes me as foolhardy, an unnecessary impossibility,

As driven by my favourite ladies,

So too I hope for you they will become,

This enchantment we can share,

As we did once, we will again,


Intoxicated by ambrosia,

Mistresses Destiny, Fate and Serendipity,

Clashing together in a beautiful symphony,

Where the universe is conductor,

And we are but pieces,

Brought together,

For our assimilation of what can be,

Such that only budding feelings may bloom,

Those that began the day we met,

Our eyes, our smiles and our souls,

Who could have known, between then and now,

Directed by the goddesses of love and attraction,

Into infinity,

True love never dies.


These Celtic deities; Achtland, Medb, Finncaev and Aidin,

Conchenn or Oenghis,

The sexual chemistry obvious and ready to be tapped,

Not touching you one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,

Touching you, even more so,

Possibly, though as yet unproven, one of the best,

With subtle giggles and tempted expressions,

Conversations free from the unnecessary melodrama of the daily grind,

Instead of aspirations, inspirations and the things that brought us here,

Carefully considered as this odyssey presses on.


Those passionate Greeks reveal,

Aphrodite, Eros, Hebe and Suadela,

Thalia, Venus and Cythera,

Each singing songs unlike the Sirens, toward our yearning,

Rather like the Muses,

Reaching inside of me and commanding forth,

Words that resemble silent thoughts,

Until this time was nigh,

Words unspoken,

Quiet admirations for precious enticements, subtle,

Those soon may unmask spellbinding intentions,

Those that again show this heart can feel,

Does feel,

Fluttering as hummingbird’s wings,

Flickering like the bright of a bonfire,

My temptations.


Perhaps Bintang, Ezili or Havea lolo funua,

Each together as quorum decide,

This pure desire shall be rewarded still,

Beating anew the drums of sexual fervor,

Communicating still in the abyss of time,

Finding a simple shared smile,

That leads to so much more,

Ix Che, Kanikanihia, Qadesh or Tlazolteotl,

Around personal fantasy’s conference table,

Drawing decisions from distinctions of pure desires,

Raw, ripe and blossoming,

As has been true for as long as we have known,

The perfect glint in the others’ eyes,

Knowing what we could have done,

Choosing what we did not do just as much as what we did.


What of Sjofn, Suadela or Urunrupuin or maybe Xtabay,

Are they to be believed that these hands,

These invisible forces,

Prevented us from jumping in too soon,

Giving rise to passions that may have dulled,

Without the anticipation of something so fresh,

As to rejuvenate our minds, bodies and souls?


Only time will tell,

If the grand design of these goddesses was of such import,

That the result, now within reach, is undeniable,

Their fallibility unchecked as mortals we,

Come together,

Crashing into each others lives like waves,

Leaving something each time we crest,

Taking something as we depart.


Only time will tell,


The wisdom of these loving sages,

The wisdom of our decisions,

The wisdom of our love;


Though I suspect,

Their sagacity is beyond reproach.

I am the sun,

And you Hmong Key are the moon,

And as the Hmong tale reveals,

I like the sun,

Die every night,

So that your beauty can live on,

Every night,


I love you!




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But The Divine

There is no love,

There is nothing,
But the divine,
And you are;


This is our time,



“You’d be surprised girl…”

The puzzling and incomprehensible,
The great enchantment of conviction,
Without definition,
Fleeting and without standard,
As unique as those who experience it full,
Conceptions, notions,
Real understanding;
There is no love but love,
But love,

There is no love,
Other than built on solid foundations,
Trust, understanding, compassion, passion and light,
Strong virtues,
Those are not after thoughts,
Or thoughts at all,
But the actions taken,
In the daily affirmations,
Built on leaps of faith;

And I am,


The mysterious unknown,
That captures physiology,
Chemistry, biology and evolution,
Purpose built,
And neuron driven,
To pheromone realizations,
Those enchant, entice and enthrall,
Do or do not,
No try.

But the divine,
There is no love,
An ever-growing cascade of tides,
That ebb and flow,
Yet the undercurrent is always there,
Threatening the riptide of emotional tumult,
Lives promised,
When instead it should be life promised;

So long as it is affirmed and uplifted,
My life,
As a leap of faith,
Is yours,
And I have known great jumps,
With no safety net,
Those that have led me to here,
To now,
To you.

But the divinity that I seek,
Is yet at the altar of my existence,
Struggles to define and design my life,
On my terms,
Burdened by my black dog,
Depressions curse,
Though I pray intently and intending,
That love,
Will again light my way,
Love and only love.

There is no love,
Where one solely believes,
Without equivocation,
For what is life but a series of compromises,
A lesson learned,
Through heartfelt painful exuberances,
In the loss of self,
Now I and I and I,
Fighting for a destiny I have known,
Since the moment of my birth,
And I will fight,
For you,
For me,
For us.

Now certain that love,
Is one, which only the Muses will reveal,
As before has been true,
I will bow at the altar of you,
Praising what I know is true,
For I feel your power,
Intense and increasing,
For each other,
And the life we sought,
Now found,
In your eyes,
The prize,
The life we’re living.

As I stand before you,
Searching the ethos of my tempestuous entitlements,
Ill deserved,
Divine love,
Ambrosia fueled and sound,
Perfectly imperfect,
No love can escape this crown of thorns,
As taken from roses,
Love divine.

Shall this fool,
Find divine,
Once again,
The faith,
To love,
For surely I do,
Studied apprehension giving way,
To storied ascension,
As I ascend you,
To that glorious promise,
Of today,
Tomorrow and the next day,
Evermore found,
In the shadow of your smile,
Illuminated by your soul,
Destined to know,
Our quiet secret,


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Love Personified

Let my Black Dog subside,
For only a moment,
(a lie, as I wish I could kick it forever from my psyche)
That I may shed this sadness,
This dark cape,
Unfurl instead like a royal tea rose garden,
It blooms without thorns,
Those that have pricked me since my birth,
Abandoned by those who most I love,
Haunted by the spiritual divide,
Leading to his demise.

Though this fallacy must give way,
Love ultimately triumphs,
Alive and fruitful,
The air briefly scented with this depleted sadness,
Of failed lovers the world over,
Escaping into the ether of the universes energy,
Enveloped by the fresh and durable scent of hope,
Springing eternal,
My mind now alive with complex myths,
Of a pharmacological advance,
My fingers numb,
From nerves shot,
By an obsessive desire;

Can you not see,
I love you,
The royal you,
And I pang for the individual you,
Rather than the concept,
I am love?

Can you not feel,
The warmth of your skin,
Adoration anew,
Presented like butterflies and flushed cheeks?
New love?

Can you not understand,
That I am your gift,
Fallen to you,
Like a meteorite flashing through the sky on a cloudless night,
Fast and burning,
Apparent for the world to see,
The light of my existence,
Smashing in the face of all you thought you knew of love and life?

Can you not experience,
With me,
The intricate subtleties of desires flight,
The ripening blush of new longing,
Like a hummingbird suckling at the flower of Agape,
The gods smiling,
As I continue to sip your ambrosia,
Though I have failed in love,
I keep falling,
And into love,
Thus I remain,
Love personified.


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A Fleeting Moment

In the somber realization,
That a fleeting moment,
Is just that,
And only a moment,
When our deepest passions,
Become our realized desires,
No God of Love around,
This, as we both know, is merely primal,
Eros indeed,
As we each seek to preserve self,
While giving as much away as we can,
In that fleeting moment.

Launched into an abyss of you,
I feel the burning delight,
Of your fingers,
And mine,
Clasped together,
As lovers would,
Though we are not lovers beyond tonight,
Pure desire,
As we both climax into tomorrow,
Can there be more?

Erudite temptations,
Both master and slave,
Teacher and student,
Our bodies an amusement park,
All amusement parks,
Tempted by the solitary pleasures,
Of a tandem that from the moment our bodies engaged,
Was so surreal,
That it brought me to tears,
She brought me to tears,
You felt my tears,
Wiping them away from not only sight but memory,
Your power over me,
A temptress,
My erudite lover,
In that fleeting moment.

You are my ambrosia,
Do you know that?
The corporeal nectar that I long to sip,
Lap and submerge myself in,
May I submerge in you?
Free my mind,
And yours,
Once more to the heavens of Greek tragedy,
And divine comedy,
No Delphic wisdom to enchant us,
For more than a fleeting moment,
I would beg,
Fall to my knees and scream to Aphrodite,
Let me once more,
Caress her skin,
Soak in her elegant way,
Linger in her tomorrows,
But no,
The moment is gone,
Though our friendship endures,
My Hooded Red.


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Poised, Perfectly and Pressed

My love’s hunger,
Reaches across the vanguard,
Into your soul,
As I have touched others,
I long to touch you,
With an infinite presence that you can not decipher,
At least not for now,
Platitudes excluded on purpose,
Shall that presence make it alright,
Or will it drift off into some forgotten dimension,
In another galaxy,
In a universe yet found in eureka,
By Jove I think he’s got it,
I got it,
Love’s eureka,
Only time will tell,
As we hold each other close,
At arms length,
How do I wish to be let inside,
Armor removed,
Walls crashing,
Shall we discover,
A way back to the here and now,
Not lost in some abstract teenage fantasy,
Instead in the ripened realizations,
That without the promise, joy and hope of love,
A life we do not live,
For to be sure,
Life is not worth living,
Without love,
My love’s hunger,
Is filled with the desire of want,
Rather than the reality of need,
How do I wish to uncover the secrets of reason,
Where love does not reside,
For there is no reason in love,
Though reasons may be manifold,
As Moliere suggests;
“Reason is not what decides love,”
Damn good thing too,
For if that were the case,
No love would unfold,
Instead let passion be our guide,
Into the infinity of the questions;
What is love?
What does love mean?
How does love manifest?
We must allow our souls dalliances,
When the time is right,
When something,
A sixth sense,
Tell us that the proximity of happiness,
The noble pursuit of life combined,
Stands before us naked,
Without equivocation,
Save our own,
Should our uncertainty and reason take place,
Of passions singular voice,
We must learn to hear instead of listen,
See instead of look,
Since the moment of my earliest memory,
As young son and brother,
I have sought, explored, wondered, been in awe of,
The taste of intentioned ambrosia,
Agape love,
Reserved for Gods,
Though I as mere mortal understand it plainly,
As expressed with one simple kiss,
One sly glance,
One deft touch of the hand on another,
The chemical awareness is absolute,
However the knowledge is without a Rosetta Stone,
Let no stone go unturned,
Are you my stone,
In the pursuit of something more,
That something that the voices convey,
This is my unwavering belief,
That love shall rule the day,
Should you allow it to be the beacon,
Rather than the waypoint of reason,
For the map of my soul,
The keys to my kingdom,
Will you be my queen,
And I your frog turned prince,
Tempted to try,
With that one,
Poised and perfectly pressed,
Lip on lip,

Will you?


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