Fire Water Protection Bubble (poem)

You've seen my face,
wild with joy.
And you've witnessed,
my madness.
Looked directly into my eyes,
and cradled my sadness.
What if, now, you choose:
to sustain a gladness?

An explosive phoenix, currently embers,
it wants fire, but can't self-sustain, needs someone else...
to massage and maintain.

The fire has consumed me,
and nearly destroyed me.
I can barely breath,
and I fear oxygen.
Never able to control myself,
but maybe, by helping, we can.

A closing toroid of flame,
a vacuuming jet.
It's next to a lake,
but it can't get wet.
The water boils near with whistling rasps,
tendrils of fingers stream by plumes.
Untimely close to extinguishing gas,
damming dowsing holds certain doom.

The steam is a barrier to the fire and heat.
You need to enter to complete the cell.
When you're safe, I am too.
Conceive, breath, weave, do.

Help me, but don't put me out.
Strike balance in love, let's end this bout.

Opportunity

My harp strings resonated, reverberated, and quaked a fissure in the ground. I had struck a high and mighty chord. And in the chamber which produced the sound, I viewed the crystal hilt of a glowing sword. Lava seeped from the crack, jets of fire plumed, then I saw the serpent's back, shimmering image doomed. A dragon of diamond reflected in the setting sun. "Well, shit." I thought, "this story will be fun." An inferno engulfed the dark, as the beast snarled and roared, but it didn't pass the harp, and couldn't melt the sword.

I held the blade and prepared for a lethal strike. But, the dragon turned her head throwing flame up through the night. She brought her ear to my harp, so I lowered the sword, then I scratched her neck and recited spoken word. The beast purred out fiery rings, and hummed harmonic peaceful things.

I climbed up her neck and continued to strum, her legs rhythmically beat the ground which started a drum. I don't know how I knew why, but it would be alright... as she got ready to fly, I embedded the blade to a scale on my right. She uttered a stifled whimpering wail. Then she stretched her wings and snapped her tail. I straddled the hilt, and held the harp. We ascended as a pair into the dark. She made light, I made music.

If we don't hold what's bright, we just might lose it.

Agni

The scars of Endor...
from fire and chaos.
Enemies lurk
and relish our loss.

My name is Agni,
time traveled templar.
Outcast from home.
Afestus' avatar.

A life of regret.
Death blaze burning.
I cannot die.
World's keep turning.

Rise from the ashes.
Blood oath I've sworn.
Extinguish desire.
For the love I mourn.

This cycle's perpetual.
But now it must stop.
Records are spinning.
Let's make this beat drop...

Try keep up,
my pace is too fast.
I've been to the future,
but come from the past.
Come to close?
I'll light up your ass.
Try to keep up,
you might crash.

It's time you heard about my story.
All the guts and all the glory.
Shit I do, now I'm free,
Fire ball degrees:
need no degree.

The corpses of demons,
blow through the heavens.
Screaming heathens!
Templars weapons
Silent screaming.

Try keep up,
my pace is too fast.
I've been to the future,
but come from the past.
Come to close?
I'll light up your ass.
Try to keep up,
you might crash.

Countless nights, countless fights.
Terrible sights, terrible strife.
Hear my plight, what is right?
Feel your fright, feel the light!

Written pages, worn out sages.
Timeless ages, rampant rages.
Dungeon cages, it's outrageous.
Brittle basis, I am ageless.

Try keep up,
my pace is too fast.
I've been to the future,
but come from the past.
Come to close?
I'll light up your ass.
Try to keep up,
you might crash.

Yang

It will follow you.
Everywhere you see.
What is the other half?
A part of you and me.

Dawn to dusk.
Growing so small.
At noon it's gone.
At twilight: tall.

Creeping continuous careless.
Darker. Dismal. Dimmer.
Following fleeting and fallen.
Slithers sidelong simmers.

Stretched outlasted outcasted.
The hater of all light.
Broadcasts shine explosive.
Darkens inner fright.

And it wouldn't exist...
without it's lasting bane.
Because pure darkness
all looks just the same.

The Conduit

Spirits are speakers.
I'm a conduit of verse.
Angels and demons
use my pen for their words.

Angels are SO fly.
We are forgiving misgivings.
Each moment orgasmic!
We're here for the living.

If only you'd celebrate Eden's bliss.
Shed your coats of gluttony and greed.
Then you'd be sated with all this!
And from your hatred, you'd be freed.

You speak of ages: brass, silver, and gold.
But only your sages tap times of old.
We condense in perpetual light
and disperse like peppered
stars in the night.
Our existence is love,
our existence is light,
our breath is life,
our stories are sight.

Tantric tempers in a meditative mist,
inhale the vapors of wistful wisps.
You can't see us, but we're here,
and you'll hear us when we're near.
The shamans, scientists and story-tellers are adept to feel us...
yet you so often fear their interpretations,
realizations,
and
potential reformations.

Our words are all around you,
consistent,
caring,
considerate,
true.

Call us heavenly.
Call us divine.
But we too hold on to mortality's vine.

Sadistic traps exist in our realms
seductive demons over arch, overwhelm.

With peace you can exist in perpetual bliss,
towers of feelings cascade through a kiss.
Every moment a journey from the moment before.
And only laughter at the idea of a "bore".

Life's a gift,
you can be a saint,
open the rift,
cosmically paint.

Cliff

Walk off of a cliff.
Cascading rays.
Gregarious friends.
Ender of days.

The waters are brisk.
Mermaids will catch you.
Taking this risk:
truth shall fetch you.

A penny for jenny.
A doctor of pacts.
The advice she lent me...
Feelings for facts.

Gioia C

You know, you're far too kind.
Seriously, it's undeniable.
You also share my sense of humor.
Which is affably reliable.

You know your way around a kitchen.
That's undoubtedly true.
Whether it be haggis or lady cakes...
Or something fresh and new.

You know you're a craftswoman.
Wood, pig skulls, and chicken feet!
I smile in wonderment:
"What might be the newest feat?"

You know your Scottish accent
when reciting Robbie Burns.
And yet I haven't heard it!
Maybe we'll take turns?

You know I'm very sorry.
And once again my friend.
This poem might keep growing,
but for now it has to end.