Poem by Darius

How sad
are the weeping roses
this early morning.

You can't help but wonder
Why the garden beds still post vacancy signs
In your curious mansion of Creation.

The world
The world is tossed in a wild winding of petals.

Where to begin, when one is already gasping for breath?

W E L L . . . . .
The irony of each person's labyrinth is that EVERY PERSON
Has at least one hallway they have experienced
As being really cool.


A Tour of my house.

These rooms - - the majority - - - are under construction.

But. . . .

I have left open your favorite doors
To climb through
To the night sky. . . . A ladder to hear
Angels singing as a hive of bees
Buzzing echoes of imploding stardust
Where the galaxies are reborn

Synapse explosions
Leveling the old kitchen cabinets
In your tired worn cookbook

This is only a recipe
To cook up


Of your embrace. Be gentle with your No. 1 lover, your


K (?)

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Mind is the closest thing to our Reality...Be careful how you use it. Businessman, yogi, teacher, addicted to laughing...