Babylon The Great

What delight awaits in a invite of open flames, to entice with might, aurous cladded usurper—the raw amber of her eyes crave

To the jingle of the depraved, collectively music and muse plays to a fire’s cascade, the attention down to mint and print of prey

To the contours and rhythm of the hip’s gyrate, the motion of the hands like intertwined vipers holding love and death’s eternal sway

The bounty that borders a bust and a voluptuous frame, all hands extend to desire to reach those distant shores of paradise’s place

In a constantly shifting gaze, the multi-faceted array, omniscient and kaleidoscopic bade within a coiling cobra’s serpentine

Dance, dance, dance to the rhythm of the pyre burning both night and day; seek her with your soul and leave nothing held back in display

Burning effigies abound in the inferno’s centre, the toxicity involved in a passionate kiss—lingers the hiss of charred remains

Worship to the utmost echelon we praise, pleasure in hedonistic waves to all aspect of human ways even to the pit we’ll stray

Nothing else could hold a flame to the sensation of a caress from such a heavenly being, divinity even in the most despicable of things

This little dance of duality in stark contrast of the greys of reality, matters seem unending— fangs of beast until the cloth of zen ordained

How easily men are to be lead astray in a scarlet haze, with the perfume and its velvet liquor coursing madly through our very veins

And are we not the very harlots we claim she is, but to which we outwardly pray and praise with vim and vigor our sudden and fallen state?
©2019 loose.leaf.lover

Briar Rose

To pick you from the crowd, even though the potential’s high of a thorn’s greeting piercing me behind the failure run of a trial

This sight evolves in a origami of sacred geometry upon me from the ornate style of stellar ocean crossing through a cerulean isle

Poured into my eyes down ’til atop my heart slowly devoured, a blooming tea sprouts in every direction with my affection ready to drown

I’m at a lost exactly to the how, my tongue can be a venomous serpent with wiles as toxic as the one to close off eden from human lives

How do I ensnare a world with such a limited lasso of charm to be rewarded with its smile, a bijou of facets hued in midnight hour

I long to adorn the mystique of this flower, to know and permanently scribe inside what my hand yearns yet the briar denies with “ours”

This possession of my soul, to mark anew and to mar sentences old—my memories are pages with you being this enchanting designed floral

The key to this prison of a ribcage once like dried cement, finds itself being embraced by a divine prominence in the guise of a lush garden

The twisting of the briar surrounds me in sprawls, the only jewel lies before me—a urban flora like alina baraz pushing pass a city jungle

The expectancy of a flower depends upon its ability to adapt and flourish, and the one I reach for has already left me smitten with stars for a garland
©2020 loose.leaf.lover

These Will Just Be Places To Me Now

 

 

​You can smell blood in the air stemming from unresolved matters as if it were cinnabari

Hard to breathe when there’s such a fragile peace, asthmatic wheeze before aesthetically layering

Been too long in this intimacy with 3 a.m, I’m literary a pendulum oscillating pantheism and nihilism layings

These cogs and gears a tailored fit no longer, each thought is off for iambic pentameters

My heart’s a mess in mesh and plated armor, yet the links are lynx or mink like a pimp’s apparel

And just as slippery a fellow, I bled out from the marrow waltzed cryptic yet narrated thorough

Keeping up appearances, I’m Pharos to Alexandria; beyond that, I’m really the heart of Pluto

I wish I could be the warmth you wanted, but silver is this ray held on a mid-autumn’s day – shivers throughout the kingdom

Not a dove with olives but an eagle whose talons were a quiver of arrows, this is how I reach to claim her

And I’m sorry if all I’ve done is a dinner and tea for vultures, the only company whose pillaged was genuinely normal

The muse and the music inspired, this is the sound of roses when the bitterness of the wilted and withered they’ve come to know

A poet of the fall, a minstrel of the winter; tell me, phantasms, what I’m supposed to say now

(Artwork by Chiara Bautista)

©2016 loose.leaf.lover

For Every Rose…

For every rose that’s broken or bruised
Countless grey vales left thorny we’re due
Rue the day that doomed love took root
A curse, conscience, garland for thy ruse

In the void of winds,
Flowery expressions of passion & disenchantment
Musings on a whim,
Lost many petals of love and not’s used

Where precious dew becomes blood blots
Where once was ambrosia, now there’s loss
Streams of psychosis in every surreal jot
My cup runneth over into the deepest cracks

My love’s craft, lovecraftian amidst candlelight
Regale many with tales of sprawling madness
Piercing the veil of bravado showing real life
Addicts of misery derive orgasms off the tragic

©2021 loose.leaf.lover

Memento Mori Through The Window

In a state of slow decay, rotted wood and rusty for days, flash freeze memento mori accented with bouquets
Wasteland full of broken dreams, weaver of the interconnectivity between grains, augmentor of reality
Shuffle around the blocks, thoughts trying to solve the riddle of a prison from the corner of a sidewalk
Twisted like the scripture upon passing train cars, my life formed out of a graffiti passage none sought
A bird cage open but none leave, the claustrophobic with wings suffering underneath the weight of being
Although the sunbeams and gentle breeze say to thee “come to me”, there’s that storm of the unforeseen

There are places that consume whole wide worlds without tiring, in the blink of an eye out from under you
Battlefields with mounting deaths contributing towards first world opulence, bankrupt the moral conscious view
Then there’s cloudy skies circling overhead with artificial flowers at your bedside, few family and a morphine supply
I don’t know what can be said that would reverse this fate, if only there was the thread that could be rewound for your sake

All I’ve ever written has been love letters to a star laden abyss, the “tales of” hidden amongst the missed
I languish under storms of fallen and a cosmic disk, the language can shift between melancholy and bliss
Every inch of divinity dwells from hilt to saber tip, it’s single edged works toward whatever you wish
Grasp with steel both our righteous and ill will, never turn away from the deeds which bare our name
And although the flames may be ruinous to the gains, it means everything just to embrace all of it in the end
The vast expanse met with a star-studded hand, finally these wings have a lift in the right direction it seems then
©2018 loose.leaf.lover

Retr0grade

I write waves tangling with moon phases bathed in its beams, the wax and wane of stress and strain my heart on everything

I’m on a plane of a page flooding with my thoughts of love and pain, conjuring forth every single lunar shade for creativity

Graffiti coursing through my very veins, gushing greetings in the form of a bouquet of abstract roses and hugo scented cherubim

On everything like love scribbles on notebook pages, school desks, park benches, tree bark, subways and a winding list of women

I’m amidst the rhythm and rhyme of a tranquil state of mind, charmed by the graine à voler upon the bayou like gains under the bodhi

The bodhisattva of cypress coursing through the murkiness of water, abstract wisteria tattooed over the bruises obtain from falling too deeply

Smudged ink on sheets til the words bleed like watercolors drifting across a canvas, rorschach of manic depression all bundled up Hendrix

This abyss is peerless like infinity pooled over the edge with all sorts feelings, trying to maintain balance before a gapping maw that’s endless

Every step feels pretty privileged when you’re alive to the possibilities, knowing fully well that the slightest misstep will not be forgiven

Everyone’s a critic when it comes to you making a living, may I always be vivid in my sentence until either the casket or publishing
©2019 loose.leaf.lover

A Diamond In All That Roughness

Countless arms with hands reaching towards the stars, palming them out of existence;
A darkness dawning yearning to be quenched, what sort of dismal magic is this?
Gazing for far too long into the abyss, what madness coupled with knowledge’s kiss
Threatens to move us entirely past the precipice, into air between dogged devils and menacing oceans?
And I’m just a romantic on a road trip, indulging self in cosmic rambles trying to make sense
Of just how bright our high’s and dark our low’s will get, a whisper written into the midst of ethers
But I saw us as genuinely diamond amongst all that roughness, our struggles towards ascension
So exquisite this story our journey from nothingness to thriving, hopefully it will serve a purpose
For far greater have fallen underneath black wings to weep in mourning, a funeral shroud too many
Just to build bridges above our ignorance, so another generation can cross safely enough and go on living
Intricacy is intimacy, and I get lost in the middle of a mystery between atoms and galaxies
But how to stave off the apathy encroaching upon my soul with each analytical surgery?
I see, or I think I see all too clearly…Phantasm of a kaleidoscope dream
©2015 loose.leaf.lover

I Said What I Said

Sending positive energies, until there’s a hint of it emerging from the depths of me in the guise of solar disks and late night aurora motifs

Prey that it isn’t the sinister splitting that deadens the sense like nuclear atomic, the heavens moved because of a sudden mood shift

Anticipation like emancipation from a worsening situation, the more deeper and complex the more muck from the mire’s saturation

And I’m just tracking it in everywhere I go—from home, places to relations—the very essence of a abyss that cursive my lips with sensations

Cusses crisscrossing curses in wisps and plumes like smoke, I watch my words wound in invisible struggles for the throat until tears are back choked

The miasma emanating from just slight tokes, unravels the serenity of apologetic words and wishful works that ultimately find a third hand croak

Just because you highlight and accent it in silver and diamonds, doesn’t mean freedom from burdensome problems or a place to hide them

Because amongst all that glimmers and shines, there’s a darkness more pensive and primordial than a trivial ornament on a shrine’s step

All I can do is restart from the un-photogenic finish, hope that each shared daily affirmation can be instead of coming back just empty

That every one of my works can be of worth with enough muscle fiber fired immensely, restructure the fake until I’ve made it the real dream

©2020 loose.leaf.lover

Red Devil

In a room full of
fun house mirrors,
lost and in pain,
every reflection
shown laughter
in a malicious way

Look my way
and say my name

Their intentions
seem vague,
fog creeps in
a neon haze
and I’m dazed—
a landscape
changed,
a city labyrinth
constantly
shifting gaze

And it is
when I’m here
that I need you near,
a gentle hand
breaching the
surface water
above my head
all in aid

Look my way
and say my name

The rhythm’s off,
and the course
blurs and grows soft,
walking on
velveteen clouds
amidst
technicolor skies
medicated

Hallowed is
the feeling
that I’ve come
to find after
each ripple has
found me
hollowed out,
echo chamber
myriad thoughts
none being sacred
©2019 loose.leaf.lover

Spiral Of Day

Because what’s dead is dead in a season of countless moving on, I’ve grown more hollow now

Twilight draped in armeni with touches of an autumn crown, summer leaves in embers brown

Myself, a shade of bourbon drowned inside a heart-shaped crystalline, so fragile a restless mind

I’ve embodied a spirit of hellfire that engulfs every wish ever announced, a love that devoured the divine

You’re always someone’s ugliest arrangement when it comes to breaking up, screams of broken cords

You see the sun from far away, the life nurturing rays glimpsed by everything kissed in holiest hexagonal

The weather changes but that one feels a constant that might stay, but people are seldom that at all

Consumed by fires that remain from day to day, my hands have known paradise before fallout occurred

Somewhere I overstayed has taking up the palest grey, the price of a burgeoning flame is constant loss

I dwell the wintry depths for some sort of normalcy, the relief from curses tied so neatly to my own

To live is to traverse every part of the spectrum hands have wrung, bleed experience of the bygone

Even the sun has a setting it can’t avoid, a sword recklessly unsheathed shall surely know blood

What wondrous eden these eyes have seen of, I can still point to the exact scar love is buried on

The faintness of a smile wrestled from an intrusive fog, I see angels where others deem devil’s are

And to this all I’m not above, I burn in the deepest hue of you regardless of if it’s known

©2022 loose.leaf.lover