the winds of change,
by wit, some lay claim,
bring for some, providence to fame
to others, a wrath to disdain
regardless, it does remain,
the human spirit can sustain
challenge; by the winds of change.
Viewing old pictures of my brother next to me
He appears the more masculine in nature
The difference is not hard to see
This quirk of genetic unfolding
A hidden clue for differences to our journey path
He the wiser chosen; accomplishments all showing
I the sufferer, to all life’s potential wrath
This is not a sobbing tale of sibling rivalry
Nor a sorrowful cry of `oh wow-is-me’
But a case for simple human discovery
Of genetic unfolding of one’s life to be
it’s a sunny day but a cold wind blows
the kind of day it normally snows
though Spring season is formally here
by all accounts this fact has not been made clear
the seemingly endless months of winter’s norm
renders the mind grey as a raging storm
pointless seems the need from bed to arise
especially when snow-flakes float before your waking eyes
woh’s me; want away from this infused-winter gloom
endless back and forth strides in my living room
if this spring-summer’s warmth fails to soon arrive
It’s not sure how much longer this life’s place – I will abide!
prisoner to this world of literary creation
word-smith to constructs of elation
though accolades are a deflation
feedback commentary give indication
if want is for self-immolation
or search for alternate vocation
both a source of much consternation
yielding less pleasure than masturbation
thus rendering this poem to nullification
Cosmic conscious’ wave cascading, rippling through universal mind of One affecting the transcendence of effable energy force to the enigmatic presence of Being, cellular morphing thought-mind genesis creation of All emanating as fractal reality, programmed dissolution of Body, sole Soul reason to experience tactile, sensory presence of cosmic conscious’ wave cascading, rippling……
Porn magazine display spills painted undressed flesh enhanced to virtue by pushing latent sexual wanton voyeuristic expression subconsciously infusing unattainable immediate demand for physical exploitation upon the distracted unassuming encounter of like-vision frustration imposing inexplicable desire for un-reciprocated caress by spontaneous orgasmic fulfillment.
Sex-search classifieds of men, boys seeking love
Love not purely of the emotional kind
Their word’s read of innocence and naivety
To brutal harshness of a calcified heart
That masks singular loneliness imposed by orientation
Driving their pursuance to anonymous exploitation
Motivated by need of purging sexual frustration
Fueling willingness for graphic display of wares to want
Ensuring debasement of integrity and mutual respect
Disregarding expense to potential future relationship promise
He looked into my eyes, through to my want of soul
He knew I desired him but at what cost, what toll?
His beauty of youth so obvious, not to be denied
But morality’s grasp did, our chance to love, belie
Age, the discriminator to each living life
Through its passage, experienced, is much emotional strife
It need not be this way, it makes no common sense
For often and, most certain, it’s to our own expense
We struggle to retain our vibrancy of youth
But each reflective glance, garners the harsher of truth
As each year moves closer toward an unavoidable, death end
It leaves the want to be old and living , harder to defend
Beauty, it’s said, is bestowed to the eye of the beholder
But not if such beauty is found of one young by one older
Attraction should not be defined by the measure of time’s passage
But by the degree loving hearts become emotionally ravaged
To look into the wanting eyes of one’s youthful admirer
Full of innocence and want to fulfill a yearning desire
Ignorant to the morality of adult guilt self impose
Blind to the consequence that yields such advances forever closed.

I have been more then expressive, speaking from the heart,
All but a few mental words is needed to give a start,
To convey meaning to a message, an emotional spark,
To its reader; my intent being, more than just a lark.
Accolade or attention is not the purpose of desire,
Simply, it’s the earnest intent by words, to inspire,
To garner an expressive response that does fuel my fire,
To give meaning to all I do, rather then from it, retire.