head cases for soul traces
mind races for deep embraces

thought oceans, rich and complex
drown darlings, of the psyche, perplex

aphrodisiac, brilliant mind
labyrinthian  lovers,
the "thinking thought" kind.

neurotic, symbolic
sensual, hypnotic
fire for the frolic
mesmerize, melancholic

word exchange
for the love arrange
want of change
of "the average", estranged

syllables, speak
the sexual peak
of heaven inside my sought, your seek

touch-less and timeless
forever, not, this "you'll be mine-ness"

banter, behoove-ment
insights, improvements

eyelids frame insides
your captivate, my fascinate

your maze, entrance, on a higher erotic
this haze, stunned for stung, this longing, symbiotic

psychotic?
i...don't...think..so...
just the more you do , and do not, show
the more i glow and the less i know

what to make of you
before my eyes
and the quiver within these enlivened soul cries
that hold the key to my self protective, locked thighs

that want to spread
you got in my head
and want to behold
your prominent pulsate, towering, untold

my.god.
you are so striking to witness
and even more so, to take in, prove surrendered, resistless

to the depths of your divine, incredible mind
within those haunting, heart drenched, man eyes.

captured, 'stockholmed"
and "syndromed"

within this encapsulate of "we",
captor of rapture,
love.me.



2014 ringwald love

wandering in the land
of lovers and strangers.

where the stranger is a lover
and the lover is a stranger.

danger?
doesn't matter
hidden selves, hidden meanings
riddles, insights,
the "run away" feelings.

the walls have words too.
think first the "f" and then the "u"
easier that way, you know what i mean?
cut, rewind, re-film that scene...

the one that plays over and over in your head
the "what have i done"
and "wish i hadn't said"....

or had.
maybe
maybe not,
can't stop it.
the gushing of emotion
that speaks of "you melt me, devotion"

thus, the walls that really want to fuck it up.
as in "go away now", before we're both out of luck.

to be able to pretend
it really didn't matter.
go back to "the normal" state
of endless babble, soul deafening chatter..

with the "everyone's", that are, the easy and the "understood"
it's nothingness that's comfortable now
and the "get too deep"
is the "no one should"

even dare to got there.
stop your train in your tracks...
pierce that heart, with "something", a gift
called real soul sight, cause an inner being shift

shaken, to the core
then the silence says it all..

the dream will fade
and the beauty will fall.

away.

spoken
"do not see me, do not make me feel it"
the real thing (love)
for my heart, you will steal it.

when the stardust falls.
away
from the eyes

it's all about survival.
it's all about the prize..

thrive.

(that's a period there.)

through the glorification and gain of "self".
the swallow of anothers'  empathy and intimate
for position of power and the dominion
of drive.

(welcome to the land of the throwaway sentiment,
soul meaning, eaten alive, at the the expense and slaughter. of the sensitive)

thank.god.i'm.getting.older.

wiser, to the will of the heartless,
feigned affection, all just pretend and pretense
for power and ambition of image, wealth
the using of another, the empty and ego starved "capture and kill"
just for the sake of the moment and the "win of it"...

when the stardust falls
all that is left
is the sting and the burn of "the learn",

in the eyes
and the search for the salve,
another fractured, "fallen forgotten"
whose heart still throbs for the purity of the sensual,
passionate exchange, call it real love, masculine.

understanding,
communion,
built of unbreakable bond.

have grown wise,
beyond time,
but still of innocence, fond.



2012 ringwald love.

should've been a suicide
but now i'm on the other side.
the place, inside, i know i've died
but to the outside world, i am still alive

tell me what it means to thrive
when i've seen the fall in too many eyes
the haunt that says "i don't belong in this world"
amongst the pretty and the petty,
power games of boys and girls

an ache of lonely
that hovers, like hell
that no one and nothing
can ever fill or heal
this is what it means to suffocate and feel
isolated and alone,
confused why all that was,
and is actually real

there is this life in your head,
so many have tread
rich with beauty and soul,
and a love, drenched, untold

all the angels i have truly loved
most, now are gone, less, the light, on my skin,
felt once, the glow, in begin, from above

that used to connect and penetrate, "the within"
until i broke, held, neck down,
in darkness that said "you see now, i am your only lasting friend"

watch the faces parade, past my eyes
as if an unbreakable connection, the holy grail here, grand prize
something most ascribe to "the normal"
is lost to me here, walls called skin, damn me, "over"

and done with.
no dreams now, dare to believe,
for a moment, they can truly come true
just to survive, days and out
is all that is left, once again, right, to do

should've been a suicide.
so all the sadness, here, it hides
i sort of did, but didn't, try
and now, in numb, "verge of never"
drown me less, drought, the cry

a purgatory of promises
i and they, now we, pawned, golden
looking back is all i have
the whispers of innocence,
the wound bleeds,
re-awakened, re-opened.

a life built on dreams,
visions now vanished.
to have died, but "live" on
never the same again,
happens.

stances
for chances
never took, live in fear.
of all the eyes and all the laughter
that made you feel terrified,
paralyzed,
your "happily ever after"...

as just the "un" in attainable
your place,
amongst the sun,
that vision of him, towering, for him, "i could've been the one"...

beat the smile from your face
should've been a suicide
but i couldn't give in, the disgrace,
the eyes of that was "expected of me"
the disgust, embedded, stained, set me free.

and.

the screams of the boys on the playground of forever
bludgeon me hundreds, but did they touch of me,
never.

and not again,
fuck, repeat,
like the "when"

for vanishing games,
call it "should've been a suicide" blame

on all that i felt, that was somehow,
always out of reach

the truth may be brutal,
but the scars, they do teach...

of rights and wrongs
and where a lost boy belongs
in the arms of another, man of pain, be him, strong

a bloodied survivor, "should've been gone"...

but isn't.
has endured,
dark of night, far too long...

a "should've been"
for a "see the heart in him".

all the things that are silent and speechless
and never again, would i have to explain, or repeat this...

why.
i should have been a suicide,
the truth of which, ingrained in my eyes.
a sadness, like flood
that experience, pain, did it guide me.
deep, oceanic, secret friend, sit beside me.

and never leave
as it watched me grieve
for all the things i could not stop
and all the love, that i felt, heavens' drop

upon me, so fleeting
and then, gone again, altered
suicide, "should've been", or not
did i never forget, or falter

from the gaze of the gorgeous
when it shined upon me, like miracle
look upon your reflection, find the evidence, empirical.

no words,
just more feelings
in the silence of your eyes
lies the cure, "emergency room dealings'

like "the heal" in the real
that is so confounding, here, to decipher
no thought, no word,
just your pulse, pull me tighter

into the  unspeakable, dare we attempt, even speak it

for feelings suffocating underneath the skin
let them go, let them bleed
be them beautiful, come

completed.



2014 ringwald love

my proficiency in deficiency
has caused me, unintentionally
to assume my doom
and make no room
for the light in life
so I became consumed...

with worry and fear
and who has left, not stood near
with skin crawling anxiety, falling
apart at the seams,
but hell, I did it without balling...

can't cry, don't know why
but I know the soul of a
"please kill me now", sigh..

the kind that hides
all the tension and rage
for the insanity of this life
feeling stuck, the same page...

over and over and over again
not a question of why,
but a question of when

someone will leave,
and again, I will grieve
my misunderstood passions
and the perpetual ease,
misperceived

as some kind of crazy,
when I'm some kind of "not"
just too open, too honest
too heart touched, framed, for naught.

as in naughty and nasty,
one second, then next..
I am pure-hearted of purpose,
and of others projections, perplexed.

that I am, some kind of freak,
for my sensitive.
and not much worth knowing, then
but "so sweet", my attentiveness

to all the things lacking
all around us, this game,
but it is I, walk alone,
more like bleed, crawl,
In shame.

of the fact that I love,
to the realms of divine.
always writing, to the sky,
"please, a heart throb, be mine"..

but he shows himself, always,
to say goodbye, just the same..

I'm "too much" and not enough
see my eyes, haunt of pain.

the kind of which, lifetimes
not enough, to explain

yet again and again,
do I try, give my all,
bleed, in vain...

so that is why my love song
Is not "be my baby",
It's "use me" and maybe..

If you do, I will, get something else, in my end
Incapable of "guard railing",
broken heart, mind, for the mend

of just be playful, just let it flow,
simple
like the good little boy, I once was
"shirley templed"...

as in adored for my ebullience
and want to please, for the crowd
sing that song of love, hope,
sing it strong, sing it proud

so instead I hide away,
keep my head, hopes, tamped down
for in love, and the light of such
I have a tendency to drown

In ways that confuse and even worse,
then confound
so the back to being alone,
that circle spins, round and round

I would die to be normal
and I would love to be loved.
but in trying so hard to prove myself
I overwhelm, floodgates fucked.

as in open when "awed",
by an other, so rare.
that I can't stop myself, compelled
as if to dream, take the dare.

that maybe, just maybe
of my "feel deep", he'll want it.
mask ripped off, in rapture
nothing false, as in front, it

but let's get to the end,
so you, won't run away, too
I'm a heart
soaked, in the red of romance,
left forever wading,
through a sea of baby blue

that's all I can say,
and please believe me, it's true.

I wrote the book of love,
but it got lost, somewhere
can I find it, safe and trusted, in you?



9 April 2019
ringwald love