Where Beauty Resides

The bells of liberty

by your stockings rung

The deepest restraints

in my hands … undone

A ladder of splendour

slowly climbing

Your sacrament melting

upon my thirsting tongue

quenched in the ocean

of love’s perfection

Down on bended knees

lost in the tender squeeze

of your wholly communion

To ride the high tide

of hard won liberation

Yet … I’m a captive slave

to your will being done

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The Grand Artisan

God … the ultimate Artist
The supreme Scientist
The intimate presence within
and throughout this existence
Regenesis … poetry in motion
Is she masculine
or is he feminine?
Is the answer
beyond our understanding?
Are we just avatars
in a game of actual reality
Is this life
an artistic documentary
viewed through
all the agony
and the ecstasy
the triumph and the tragedy?
Have we truly
been given a free hand
by the Artisan Grand
upon the canvas of eternity?

Or are we just
rats in a laboratory?
A collection of quarks
traversing the dark?
Mere particles within
the part and parcel
of subatomic intricacy?
An infinitesimal spark
in a dimension mechanical?
Speaking of relativity
where is the power and the glory?
A perpetual quantum
crunching the numbers
in some mindless continuum
Is that the universal story?

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Contra Versia

The contradiction
within creation
a perpetual balancing act
with the disharmony
of destruction
That spark of oblivion
as sharp as a knife
From every dimension
in every direction
a never ending question
Salvador Dali whispering
. . .  “Everything
that is contradictory
creates life.”
Conformity is death
Imperfection breeding strife

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The Placebo Diaries (3)

Las Meninas Placebos

that sacred place

at the crossroads of existence

where piece by piece

Pablo disassembled his muses

upon a wafer of painted canvas

a sculptured vivisection

a patchwork of stained-glass

the transubstantiation

of a new wine frozen in time

the sacrament of broken flesh

a surgeon’s scalpel

the artist’s brush

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