Oligopoly relations

Beyond the pale boundaries

of reality’s imaginary reservation

My rogue depression

is my best oddest of friends

that remains long after others left

Which seeks me out, inopportunely

for its own dark desperate needs

whilst giving me a malignant purpose

as I try to replace the rifts void

knowing full well, I’ll answer

with my torn empathetic heart

and dependent open arms

because after all, this is… who I am

Poet of the Light © 2019


Lying so often to ourselves, they become truth

We revolve like sun and moon, seeking eclipse

Fearfully following societal flawed constraints

You’ve save yourself from hurtful heartbreak

For having never dared a moment on…our love

Poet of the Light © 2019





By divine extinguishment of my fragile mortality,

My immortal legacy will be truly born- pure.

One that keeps me well; alive posthumously.

As such, by my own volition what I bequeath,

Is me residing eternity- in my breaths of…poetry


Poet of the Light © 2018






The Half-Finished heaven

(c) Tomas Transtromer

Despondency breaks off its course.
Anguish breaks off its course.
The vulture breaks off its flight.

The eager light streams out,
even the ghosts take a draught.

And our paintings see daylight,
our red beasts of the ice-age studios.

Everything begins to look around.
We walk in the sun in hundreds.

Each man is a half-open door
leading to a room for everyone.

The endless ground under us.

The water is shining among the trees.

The lake is a window into the earth.


My personal take when I first read this poem to me was; I think in one aspect it serves to tell us that despondency is like water; where it fills and feels at home within the vessel that holds it so closely guarded. Perhaps in part because despondency may well be for some of us, the last of our feelings we can still manage to feel within the eye of a storm we alone have become and out of an earnest love, we refuse to share it.


At times and out of the blue

It’s as if she cuts a swathe

Clearly through to my soul

My attention; split wide open

Her scent, her voiced whispers

Her fashionable teasing eyes

Touch and permeate all I am 

And even at inappropriate times

I’m stripped of nearly all modesty

Envisioning our bare bodies at play

I turn red, caught in a sinful smile

My eyes held closed in visual luxury 

Droplets creep on my skins surface

Wiping fantasy lipstick from my lips 

Sure, others around have noticed

Hoping I do the same to her…any moment

Poet of the Light © 2018


For others-

She was perceived an enigma

They even further thought

She should be shunned

Everyone saw she was different 

Most fear the queer unknowns 

Seldom being attentive

To anything not their preference

Or not under their control

But for me-

She was divine beauty- truly  

Wildly and yet most refrained

Being reveled in glimpses

Like rare sparkles of a diamonds 

When prismatic sunlight cascades

And I- admired her from afar

Sometimes getting lost in awe

Ignoring even time as it ticked on

She taught me about art

In my many of mini-lessons

The pristine kind seen in motion

And caught only by perchance 

Life gifts in mere micro-seconds

And fewer human minds

Acknowledge so instantaneously

Retain and relish indefinitely

She- like a muse inspired poetry  

Colorful words that seemingly

And esoterically came out of no where

Appearing on sheets, white lien, inked

She had that effortless affect

If for no one else, certainly for me

She’ll always be present in my presence

And I suspect long after my departure  

I could be wrong, in bias preference 

Thinking we shared a connection- love 

Unseen or heard yet felt, deep within

She changed me for the betterment

Innately for me I’ll permanently feel 

As if she existed- just to touch…my soul

Poet of the Light © 2018