The Passionate Pen

The Passionate Pen
Pulsates with luminescence.
Its source transcendent,
Pages radiate, injected with ink incandescent.

The sun squints when the strokes soak.
The sheets must be sheathed in a quote’s cloak.

‘Tis no quill
Taken from a bird’s nestle.
‘Twas a thrill
To concoct the ink, with a firm pestle.

Lava for determination,
Stardust for high hopes,
Starlight for inspiration,
Glacier water for rejuvenation,
A drop of the Savior’s blood for salvation
And a speck of His sweat’s salt for eternal preservation.

Finally, I siphon a raging scream of emotion
Into the cartridge to keep the mixture in motion.
Swirling like undercurrents of the ocean.
Merlin has never known so potent a potion.

An elixir of passion.
I mix it with passion.

The pen glows
And throbs with a tempo.
It plants seeds,
Watch the stems grow.

The false poets—watching at bay—
Flock, & they say,
“Long live the Passionate Pen!”
As, once again, the Passionate Pen
Conquers the day.

Project x

My bones are diamond shafts.
Each eye a sapphire gem.
My blood is liquid rubies.
Dare I divulge my name?

My members, a master’s crafts;
No bacteria, germs or phlegm.
I live free of formal duties.
Shall I flaunt for fame?

No epiglottis or voice boxes,
My heart’s a rocketing comet.
No esophagus needed to imbibe,
I just absorb—like the perfect heist.

Hunted by shamans like foxes,
Fronted by the pickpocketing prophet,
Who’ve seen what I now struggle to describe:

A human creature reborn in Christ.

He & Her (Part 1)

He saw starlight in her eyes.

All he had known prior was the anguish of isolation and loneliness. His youth was a constant gauntlet of rejection. A heavy heart beat in his chest pumping caustic fluid, scorning his mind. Flowing into his tear ducts, causing him to cry acidic tears. Leaving scars that penetrate like erosion in his flesh, deeper with each tear; carving his own paths of pain. Until…

He saw the sunshine in her smile.

Her name was…
Dream.

She was the hope he’d held, come to life. He gazed into her pupils, as though they were gateways to another dimension. A dimension where they two only existed. With galaxies in arms’ reach, on an island amidst a nebula. Her skin smooth, radiant as pure gold shimmering in the light of high noon. Her hair like fine silk flowing like a glorious cascade…

Her presence consoled him.

They met like two lovers destined for bliss, whose fate was inscribed in a timeless novel. He saw the part of him he had been missing when he saw her; and she saw the same in him.

And so their love began. A love so pure that they were cleansed of all mischief and vice. So rich that they would never lack any substance of holistic companionship and intimacy.

Or so they thought.

It all began when…

He saw starlight in her eyes.

(To be continued…)

The Raindrop

The raindrop
Stands alone
Then escapes the cloud
Like a skydiving soldier on mission
Whose face is proud.
It stands alone
In its descent,
Only to embrace the ground
As if it had a hand to hold.

But the earth is dry
And land is cold.

The rain drop is simple
And cool at heart.
Its thoughts so fickle
To make the foolish smart,
Yet I sometimes wonder
Were it sentient would it ponder
The significance of a lifetime between earth and yonder
And the sentiment of finding a purpose fonder.

For we are all like raindrops solitary
With a finite life span, temporary.
Some stand alone, and some find another
To join together and become stronger.

The lonely raindrop stands alone
But every raindrop makes the planet whole.

Mother Earth awakes, smiles at thunder
And says, “Mr. Lonely Raindrop: you have a home.”