Friday, January 26, 2007

Valentine Wish

Mine heart, thine hands, no wedding bands.
Your steady eyes stare at my heart
It's washed and wrapped, it's still alive
To give the fair'st of all the lands

I want yours too, but take your time
It's you and I and none between
You have all day, I have all night
You pray. I'll wait to be your knight.

Thinkers think and dreamers dream
And hope's for the heart, for things unseen
But through my trials and every storm,
I'll be yours, yours in the morn.

When clocks fail and time's past,
Please be mine, at long last.

Copyright © macalurs 2007

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

If I swore I was Immortal

And hath thy snail left its home
In thoughtful explore? Oh poor philosopher
The oblivious swagger aflicker candle roam

How useful be the snail, yet her feelers unwind
Need not I those, as my eyes, my curiosity frustrate?
Said the spider to the bat: "Is not life better lived blind?"

Once I lived, once out-slied I a fox
Twice died, out-witting a lion.
"So who's the shadow now?" my shadow mocks.

I could have sworn I couldn't die,
But I raced the snail-- T'was a tie!

Copyright © macalurs 2007

Monday, January 22, 2007


I'm tired. My mind is slow. i'm working two jobs, and the poems don't seem to flow (sorry 'bout the rhyme). I'll be fine later.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

Welcome to Eden

To a place where roses on green thorns grow,
To the valley of death where rivers of life flow;
To man, who God's from dirt to make,
To a mind so fickle but for immortal sake.
Where He displayed His artistry--
That angels marvelled it's majesty,
But serpents walked, and apples grew,
And lions skulls of rabbits chew'd.
To existence and beautiful vainity--
To organised chaos, and veiled disunity;
To illusion and to God's greatest magic,
To life, and happiness ever tragic.
Like beauty out a window toss'd,
Welcome to Eden her paradise lost.

Friday, January 12, 2007

My Cold Hands Her Stay

That forever we together be,

I wish. My mind it plagues uncertainty

For human doth I mistake make

Approximately occasional, I may

Her subtle heart of beauty break

It seems like my cold hands never wer' her stay.

The worst lover, and best sinner

Of sorts I am. But my love and forgiver,

She remains soothing ever bland

Like she waits my return to my old way

That she may smile and gently tap my hand

If her love wanes, could my cold hands be her stay?

That forever we together be,

I wish. But to the restless, his uncertainty.

Copyright © macalurs 2007

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

The Virgin Boy's Story

Our lips met and time stopped
As the sun watched a mortal kiss a goddess
When eyes are kissed shut, emotions erupt
And souls entwine in their own furnace
I pause as tears from her eyes roll
T'was just us two, and no tomorrow.

The wind is still 'tis evening
Nothing's moved like nothing dares
Even the birds refuse to sing
Like God hath paused His chores and stare
She moans softly as I kisses trace;
I lick the sweet tears from her face.

My melting heart I cannot help
My tears let go as taste I her breasts
She smells like angels ought to smell.
And I shall make her bosom my nest
And let it be told and re-told in the cosmos as destiny;
That I slept in her arms, and the rest-- history.

Copyright © macalurs 2006

Tuesday, January 9, 2007

As You Walk...

Through the sorrow and the wine
Immerse in liquor stupor thine
Starve thine gaunt atwitter mind
Today a prince, tomorrow swine

Through the hellish fate and caste
Wish for palace, but feed the rats
That teach you digging tacts and tricks
Beneath the earth thine gold amassed

Through the wins and all but loss
Watch thine feet with fingers crossed
As to the gambler's toss, his coin
All thy treasures worthless rust.

Through the toils and all but rest
Sweetest vine ye soothe thine breast
Afeast like no tomorrow be
In pursuit of happiness.

Copyright © macalurs 2006

Thursday, January 4, 2007


A walk alone--
Life's hacked terrain;
A song's drooling tone,
Same beat, same refrain.

My unfocused stare--
Barren lands, its futile thrive;
My withered hands on torso bare,
I feel the beat, I am alive.

Splayed out on its hacked terrain--
Skulls of battered, bones of bruised;
That's the trainman, where's the train?
I love his coat, his hat, his muse.

I feel the beat, it thumps inside--
But for the heat, I'm still alive.

Copyright © macalurs 2006