1adorningandadoring.html0100644000274600007660000001044307702017264015033 0ustar area51otbiz12 Adorning and Adoring
Adorning and Adoring

Nakedly, he looked her through and through,
adoring and adorning every contour of her
femininity. It was as if a carnal touch were
haunting her through days and nights
of grief and great desire left unmet,
within this space of solitary grace, that
could not satiate her sense of touch.

She wavered then, within her flight divine,
where angels beckoned to her to go on, and
paused, just for an instant of eternity, to look
into his eyes and read the pleading longing
she found there. Still, shed been here
at this very place that lives beyond all space
too many times before to just give in.

This feeling though, was somehow yet a
different kind and type of moods
translation that she worked on now;
one shed never gotten through before. And
now, just now, a hunger rose (but was it his
or was it hers?); flesh itching yearningly
for just another touch of other human flesh;
while something somehow other and the same
as just herself was felt to enter in between.

Was this her angel, truly then, guardian of all
she ever was or hoped to be? Or was it merely
fantasy of better days that might ascend, if only
she could find a way to mend the many wrongs
of powered structures? Anxiously, she drifted
off to sleep, trusting yet again those dreams
that dared to dream themselves into reality
nakedly adorning and adoring everything...

? Michaelette ?

5/4/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1afriend.html0100644000274600007660000000507307702023062012607 0ustar area51otbiz12 A Friend

A Friend

A friend, true friend -
appearing out of nothingness.
Inexplicable, the majesty
of synchronicity, advancing
in the feel of love itself.

Hand upon a hand, to comfort and lead,
when another comes to lose their way.
A hug to share the essence of our strength
as flesh and spirit intermesh again
within our need, the mighty need,
of love itself for being.

How strange and instantaneous
the joining of two hearts and souls
that meet across the distance.
Hand to hand, our souls will touch,
While in this touch, our hearts
expand again...

? Michaelette ?

3/24/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1agingmemories.html0100644000274600007660000001523007702014750014025 0ustar area51otbiz12 Aging Memories

Aging Memories

This place, this space, rings hollowly, in
memories of those who used to overflow it.
Even echoes of the past are fading quickly
into overwhelming silence more and more.
And I know I must move out and on,
discarding all the dreams that kept me
here through all the many years before.

An errant tear for one last hug; to have and
hold what was so dear once more; as fear of
the unknown takes hold and wraps itself
around my heart and soul. What I built to be
so whole and solidly connected, has been
shattered into bits and pieces now, slowly
yet so violently, that nothing I can do would
serve to mend or gather all the pieces
back into coherence once again.

The parts I played, those roles upon that stage,
are simply over. The play itself so old and worn,
that banners (hung so long ago in its announcement),
grew old and torn. Unreadable, they hang upon
these worn out walls in shreds, within an atmosphere
of dread increasing in the air I try to breathe.
Dust gathers thicker day by night.
I seldom have an appetite; for all I loved grew
stale before it melted and then disappeared.

My calendar is clear these days; the phone so
seldom rings; my energy abandons me, as
hopelessness becomes extreme. Betrayed,
as if my destiny itself no longer cares to
whisper of a pending mystery. A veil hangs
too heavily oer doors that used to be so open
and so innocent. A scent of cloying age
assaults me, every time I stop to take a breath.
I wither as I while away this time; no longer rushed
by any need for clocks or speed, for only
make-believe and memory fulfill the needs
that I so deeply feel.

I ought to sleep, but even sleep evades me now;
while little naps seem more than I can bear. I
need to share so much, but no one real will even
take the time to listen now. Instead, they look
at me with pity and a cloying sadness in their eyes,
that once were so delighted by my wit and charm;
abundantly I used to be alive.

I wonder if I might somehow just let it go within
my sleep; and drift into a mist of lighted fog,
where I might have the chance to live again
the gist and meaning of these aging,
yet so poignant memories.

Once elders were respected for the wisdom
they had gleaned in the experience of every
moment lived. Yet it seems that nothing I now
do or say can matter much to youthful ways
not in this modern day and age - not any more...

? Michaelette ?

5/9/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1alchemicaltransitions.html0100644000274600007660000001312507702015515015560 0ustar area51otbiz12 Alchemical Transitions

Alchemical Transitions

Intermediary, liaison, ambassador of love;
whitely seeking, shadows now ascend
to lightly touch reflections of the sun.
Systems ranging outwardly, as inwardly
they steal the vast appeal of our attention
with emotions that seem powerful enough
to rearrange it all.

Between the starry heavens and the blasting
heat that rises from the core of earth itself,
we stand; commanding or commanded by
the power running through our hands,
rising from the land into the vastness of the skies,
descending then again, both as and yet again
as if right through us, to nurture and demand
we be the source of its awareness.

Yet we are more than any conduit or circuit,
for we make and break connections by the
force of our free will, as we alter and we change
our point of view concentration opening out
into a particle of universal loving energy, that
sings itself right through our hearts and souls;
each time we dare create a harmony of
understanding, while upholding every nuance
of our individuality.

Moments of stillness, poised between each breath
we give and take; to abate the mighty trying power
that seems to overtake us in each rush of blind
emotive power. Until the midnight hour wakes
us from a peaceful sleep, heart racing with a
newness that must overtake the rest. Visions
rise, as if a misty magic spell were being cast;
so clear and pure that were transported there -
entirely to moments of pure beauty, held within
a sense of timelessness that never alters, but
merely flows into itself again and yet again.

Oceans arise while minds must sleep; bleeding
seeds of creativity into the depth and height of
all we dare to reach for and achieve, becoming
width and breadth within another breath of
startling understanding. As Mercury, so swift
and fleet, begins again his great, transcendent
flight of winged feet. Quicksilver ever altering
its shape and form; yet staying still, the same -
somehow untamed and yet unbroken as it
spreads and yields itself to yet another vibratory
tone and rush of motions energy.

Intermediary, liaison, ambassador of love;
now singing through the strings of just one
golden lyre that only Orpheus can bring to be.
Enchantingly, vibrations lift the many veils
from these mortal eyes; and skies of indigo
become alight with yet another blazing trail
of golden white, tinted now in hues of roses
blooming tenderly, as dew ascends...

? Michaelette ?

6/04/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1allenlightenment.html0100644000274600007660000001053107702017225014530 0ustar area51otbiz12 All Enlightenment

All Enlightenment

Within these mists
of all untime
how does one come
to a point, an opening
of resurrection or enlightenment...?

When truly is the power of all life
contained within
an everlasting cycle
born of ever-changing form
yet so familiar, as forsworn
in ancient days that seem so new
within these skies of blue that deepen
yet of which we breathe our very being
to conceive again an utter harmony
beyond the pain or the contempt
of any puny condemnation

The seagull knows
as do the crows and eagles
and too, the tiny sparrows
that dare to fly into these skies
of all that man may think unknown
they know the worth of air
and mighty need of this
the breath of all creation
within sight that seems mere fantasy
or feeling just now coming

to express our deepest need
that eggs us on to just become
ourselves, in all the mighty splendor
of just being
not this or that or something else
for all is one
even these, the sun and moon and stars
joined within this love, one love
that still creates and recreates
this mighty form of all enlightenment...

? Michaelette ?

3/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1allourhealing.html0100644000274600007660000001001607702017613014023 0ustar area51otbiz12 All Our Healing

All Our Healing

I wonder as I wander
oer the landscapes of the earth,
observing nature as she speaks
in images so freely given
of particles becoming now
pure volumes of the truth.

Yet as I come to know
the people of this earth
basically, as individuals
born of this supposed splendid
species of humanity,
I cant help but wonder further
of what within our evolution
has gone so very wrong somehow.

I delve, I quest,
I answer most requests as best I can
yet still I find too many blind beliefs
that stand as walls between us all
the mothers and the fathers
the husbands and the wives
the sisters and the brothers
the sons and daughters born
and then reborn
within a linear flow of time.

The answers seem to lie
within relationship
as invisible emotions
that communicate themselves
one unto another unto all
and I delve deep into the in between
to find that love is still the answer;
the base, the glue and too,
the building blocks
of all our healing...

? Michaelette ?

4/24/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1allthatsmeanttobe.html0100644000274600007660000001161407702016334014714 0ustar area51otbiz12 All Thats Meant To Be

All Thats Meant To Be

Spirits speak as hearts reach out
to touch the love we are,
magically transcending everything
as beyond all time and space, we sing,
not of the love we know or knew,
but of a feeling flowing through
the multi-levels of our soul,
as all that was most personal
is finally set free.

Distance seems to disappear
and time floats off in spacious grace.
We drift, we dream, we touch
in other realms that seem so real,
we cant deny the feelings streaming through,
uttering our being further yet
into a life of flesh and form,
further than its ever been before.

When there, a door,
conspicuously absent until now,
begins to open out into
all we never knew before;
where mists are seen in swirling hues,
hinting at the power of creativity,
spiraling through dark and light
in spectrums of delight.

And then, the pause,
in wondering of what might change
the moment that we step just past
the threshold of our dreams,
and bring reality to bear
on all we hold so close and dear.

All thought breaks loose,
alive and burning,
as imagination takes to flight
to soar above the many fears
that held us back within a past
that simply fades away.

For now a new day comes to be
the sum of our reality;
changing, endlessly -
all that is to
all thats meant to be . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1allweveleftbehind.html0100644000274600007660000001554107702014654014673 0ustar area51otbiz12 All Weve Left Behind

All Weve Left Behind

The flowers in the garden that I tended.
The walks, both day and night,
when you attended.
The hands we held.
The love we felt.
The childhood dreams
that fell just out of reach.

Rain forests falling, falling, falling.
Ghostly voices calling, calling.
We all finally need to cry
for what we left behind.

The goals that we never achieved.
The faith that we rarely believed.
The sense and safety of community.
The dolphins that still play
to heal eternity.

Rain forests falling, falling, falling.
Ghostly voices calling, calling.
We all finally need to cry
for what we left behind.

The tenderness, your soft caress.
The way our bodies mingled.
The sense of blessing when we met.
Demands that in the end
just meant goodbye.

Rain forests falling, falling, falling.
Ghostly voices calling, calling.
We all finally need to cry
for what we left behind.

The life we lived, from day to day.
The pain we shared and somehow shed.
The burning of the sacred fires.
Foreseeing future in your eyes.

Rain forests falling, falling, falling.
Ghostly voices calling, calling.
We all finally need to cry
for what we left behind.

A moment at our mothers breast.
Her endless touch of tenderness
that soothed and took all pain away.
The tears she cried that we might sleep
and dream our way back to reality.

The loss of our belonging
when we finally realize
that we are never
coming home this way again -
not without Love.

Rain forests falling, falling, falling.
Ghostly voices calling, calling.
We all finally need to cry
for what we left behind.

That silent sense of empathy
just as the night was falling.
The dreams of nights born in your arms.
The splendor of the song of morn.
The grace of our own mourning cry,
now that Love has been undone.

Rain forests falling, falling, falling.
Ghostly voices calling, calling.
We all finally need to cry
for what we left behind.

Too swift, too swift,
we move ahead
to all weve left behind...

? Michaelette ?

4/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1anaffair.html0100644000274600007660000003007707702013572012755 0ustar area51otbiz12 An Affair

An Affair

I remember when my father was in his
early forties I was a teenager then,
when a great commotion ensued in
our family, very loudly heard by all
of us, even those too young to understand
at all just then. It seems my mother had finally
somehow forced him to reveal the awful
truth of his affair. He seemed happier
then though, during the short course of
his affair, than ever before or after in
my memories of him, and so I found
her upset quite perplexing.

She had no proof, as proof is seen, that
this was really happening no sight or sound
or sensations report, other than an emotion
that the invisible feeling realm of her intuition
brought uncannily to her awareness then.
Hed contrived a lie, to cover over the truth
of where hed been on those nights when he
kept telling her he was merely working late.
And yet she knew, somehow beyond the
shadow of a doubt, just what it was he truly
did during those late hours.

And so she poked and prodded, pushing
every button in him that she had discovered
in the long years of their marriage and living
together. She always was much quicker
with her wit than he. And she questioned
him so endlessly about minute and seemingly
unimportant details of his time away,
that at last she caught him in the
unrehearsed juxtaposition, the core of truth
that lay at the very center of
one of his own fabrications.

He knew hed lost the battle then, of
playing power games with her, and so regressed
and acquiesced, admitting that she had
been right again, through gritted teeth, but
still, the essence of confession nonetheless;
and he awaited nothing more than just
the penance shed decree for him.
He never could imagine though, how
great a penance she would willfully
impose on him. I see now that, unknowingly,
she had imposed the same
great penance on herself.

The details of his supposed sin were never
really important to her at all; for it seemed
that all she really sought was a confirmation
of her own inner knowing (that she so often,
even now, confuses with her blind beliefs of
faith in something other than herself). Yet
within the compromise of his confession, she
felt justified, at first in just her anger at this
one experience of exposure; but then in
ever greater amplitude. For to her then, any
anger that shed ever felt toward him at all,
no matter its inanity, was also eventually
justified within this same sense of knowing;
even though the things she really knew
were still so very unclear to even her.

For in her mind then, and so much deeper,
at the core of all her blind beliefs, her building
rage at him was religious and righteous, and
therefore entirely right and justified, quite
beyond any bounds or bonds or reason on
her part. He had, however, somehow silently
accepted the penance she would impose into
his being, so he too held obviously altered
attitudes of right and wrong. Both of them
bound then, to this penance of eternal wrath,
that only gods could really bring to be, sank
within a pool a guilt and shame and blame;
lashing out at any momentary slip beyond
perfection that the other always made
within the course of time and thus, their lives.

And it was as if, within this penance, she
became so much more his mother than his
lover or his wife, and he another version of
every father never known. Even now, five years
and more after his death into another state of
being, all too often still, I feel that same rage
and wrath of ancient ages pouring out of her;
yet she still seems to feel a great sense of
power in it, even as it bleeds her health away,
that empty, endless, useless feeling of the rage
of all destruction.

It seems to me, even now though, to be born
of more than merely Christian creed, or any
sense of a religious or spiritual need. It feels
more as if it were drawn from an abyss
where centuries of anger unexpressed abide,
still active, for this energy has never been
transformed or transubstantiated. And I
wonder as I wander now, if perhaps that
second coming is upon us now, and if
that ancient Adam is reborn in female form.

New visions of those dying myths that have
lived unchanged for so many centuries
might finally come to find a balancing point
in this, a telling tale of deed - finally reaching
for a point of truth that used to seem so
nebulous and unbelievable. So this one
affair becomes, in tides of time, an
affair to be remembered now
in every detail of its experience,
by so many more than
you or I alone...

? Michaelette ?

5/4/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1ancestry.html0100644000274600007660000001052207702017226013027 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ancestry

Ancestry

Of royal lines do we descend
into mortality of flesh and form
Why do we scorn the source
of who we are?

We are forged of the fire of spirit
and now our task must be just this
maintaining all the quality of form
that eons known as time have spun
into this tapestry of life we live
its source: the womb of all
that is most feminine

Love does not hurt, or kill, or maim
nor does it seek for fame
Oh no, true love doth heal it all
the sane and the insane at once
within a stream of its continuance
in every beat of steady rhythm
that our hearts must beat for life to be

Like blood that flows so mightily
through veins of flesh
it intermeshes in its healing
bringing everything we treasure most
back to the measure of all life itself
this flesh and form

Continuing into eternity
from whence it came
this stream of ancestry
that truly is most royal of them all
for all we are and all weve ever been
and thus all that we hope now to attain
is this love of life itself
that ancestry has brought into
this realm of all reality for us
yet more, indeed
for the continuance of life
depends right now on our awakening

? Michaelette ?

3/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1ancientimagery.html0100644000274600007660000001230707702016020014170 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ancient Imagery

Ancient Imagery

There is always one more task to do we save
them up, you see. When all is said and done,
we wash the walls, thinking to begin again with
yet another color of a dawn that might just mean
enlightenment. Yet muscles, so long weakening
within that deeper sleep of our unknowing, refuse
to move themselves again somehow; no matter
how our mind commands, demands and wills it
to be so. For all we were, we gave away, and all
that we composed within an instant of intensity,
we always placed outside ourselves, and we have
bled the very strength of us away.

Sluggishly, we move once more, into another door
of blind departure, sorrow speaking desperately
of all we left behind. For we are blinded, dont
you see them now...? Mirrors endlessly repeating
plays of shadowed imagery; anciently, it dances
through these days of make-believe we live. While
we are forced to sit within the utter stillness that
every life denied its deepest longing must become.

No matter that another image rises distantly from
ancient past; redeemingly, its gleam has now been
altered and abused; words flowing into phrases
that can never be complete, yet one sentence will
repeat itself, as it flames time and again within a
burst of great desire through us all: "My God, my
God, why have you forsaken me?" It screams in
potency yet still, while we search for fame and
glory, even as this endless story plays our lives
upon its stage of never meant to be that fantasy
of tortured misery, turning death of flesh into the
one and only savior we may ever know at all.

See it fall; that burning cross so quickly turns
to ash as sunlight floods the ancient scenery
into the meaning of all life that must be lived
into eternity; where high and low just need
to meet and come to know themselves
complete within the truth of all thats
written in between...

? Michaelette ?

5/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1andsoiam.html0100644000274600007660000000633107702021321012764 0ustar area51otbiz12 And So, I Am

And So, I Am

Reborn within a conscious state
of innocence unfolding.
Unhinged within the basic myths
that are the very source
of the capacity for creativity.

Unknown and seldom understood
for what they are,
or all that they might come to be,
as time (that seems so precious)
becomes lost within a search
for nourishment that seems
to matter more than life itself.

Of this we are -
and so, I am -
if only recently unveiled
to the greater multitude.

Oh child, so divine,
how can we ever be
this opening into divinity,
if not for thee...?

Yet still, of this we are -
and so, I am -
as a purity of being
seeks to come to understand
itself again...

? Michaelette ?

3/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1angelblue.html0100644000274600007660000000620707702021452013136 0ustar area51otbiz12 Angel Blue

Angel Blue

An angel sits there, weeping,
just on the edge of the crescent moon.
Her wings surround herself
within an unearthly protection.
As she wonders where next she ought to go,
or if ever she had really done
just what it was that she was meant to do.
And a single teardrop dared to speak,
whispering "I love you too..."
as joy became a living entity.

Lonely and forsaken then, it fell,
knowing only this,
this one pure moment
of a love so true,
that it knew that it must carry on
for the sake of love itself.
And it was carried then into existence,
where the winds will always blow;
and melted there, into the earth,
becoming more and more.

For all the worth of love goes on
to grow into each flower that blooms
in every gift of spring...

? Michaelette ?

3/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1angels.html0100644000274600007660000001344707702015357012464 0ustar area51otbiz12 Angels

Angels

I feel angels all about me now, without
a touch of fear to foul their loving
atmosphere. A glowing tone of harmony
becomes the nearness of all space that
endlessly arrives without a glimpse of its
departure. A cloud falls down, surrounding
me within a heavy mist of moisture, pregnant
with impending nourishment of springtime rain.
Birdsong drifts so sweetly from a nest
where nestling is everything.

It moves too swiftly in a pause, developing
transparently this vision of perception - so far
advanced beyond the mindlessness of time
and linear thought, that logically unfolds
itself back into a nothingness again. Questions
coming, answers fleeing there just out of
reach. Where, if only for one pure and utter
moment, we were to set the question free,
all the answers might then find the room to
breathe there being into us.

Pristine, this touch of insolidity: where clarity
of vision takes a chanceless glance into
invisibility; and mists become a drift of
timelessness forming a reality of angels
arms, awaiting just your opening, to caress
all flesh in tenderness again.

Just then an angel spoke aloud, within one
mind receptive: "Fear not these endless feelings
of your opening into a death divine for life
awaits you fully there, just past that point of
the death of disillusionment. Allow yourself
just this propensity to be reborn eternally
right now.

Do not be surprised when an endless longing
carries you away from all you have attained;
attainment is no longer necessary here, for
you possess it all without a trace of that
possessiveness drawn near the stars,
the moon, the galaxy; the splendor of each
vast and earthly horizon, where the sun
arises in a continuance of setting, reaching up
and settling down, vision of invisibility yet still
you see it all in this one moment of eternal
verity free of the illusions of all fear.

We hold you now, so gently with our wings,
that your pain will never enter in again."

? Michaelette ?

5/4/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1archetypallyenhanced.html0100644000274600007660000001123207702016576015374 0ustar area51otbiz12 Archetypally Enhanced

Archetypally Enhanced

Archetypally enhanced
life dances joyously again
refreshed by every ancient wind
of springtime glory growing
in this future of all form.

To glance askance at sunshine
dancing on the ripples of the pond
with such abandon, life goes on,
wind blowing warm and fresh and wild
overthrowing winters moodiness
and every sense of seclusion's solitude.

Unblanketed and only now unfolding;
cyclic, these reforms of life in time,
flowing, ever flowing to a sense
that speaks in words of our forever,
spirit reaching in this bliss
for the evolution of all movement
within another moment
of the purest ecstasy.

Green grasses long enough to sway
just slightly in the breeze,
flowering trees - a majesty of beauty,
as from the earth the green grows up
and buds upon the trees become
the leaves that speak in summers grand
and eloquent confession of the wind.

Archetypally enhanced
life dances joyously again
refreshed by every ancient wind
flowing so precociously
through the very atmosphere
we live and breathe.

You approach me once again, just now
when all the power of growth is rising
from the very center of the earth
and thus, I know you feel it too:
the need, the want, the deep desire
burning splendidly through all we are.

? Michaelette ?

4/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1aroundthebend.html0100644000274600007660000000557507702022130014023 0ustar area51otbiz12 Around the Bend

Around the Bend

Altar boy eyes and demons schemes -
what dreams abound within the dark
behind your starlit eyes?

Devils horn arising, leading to
another rendezvous;
seeking out the unicorn
for just a touch, a glimpse, a glance,
a trance-like state of magic,
conceived within the brilliance
of its glowing golden horn.

And so a tryst within the mists begins,
where nymphs will always dance
and play the night back into day,
while muses sing their sultry lullabies -
crying out to those who start
to come awake again.

To lead them there, around the bend,
where all their dreams
turn into schemes
of coming home again...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1artistry.html0100644000274600007660000001134407702016531013061 0ustar area51otbiz12 Artistry

Artistry

Is it worthless then?
this quality of beauty that we seek
that comes of loving tides and times
when moon and stars so simply glide
without a thought or worry
through skies in sync
in both the inner/outer worlds
where we abide

Yet the artist and their artistry
how often do they dwell?
within a rubble left behind
by those who seek no more
than just a power too great
to ever understand

Do they think then?
that some mighty hand
invisible within their blind beliefs
comes down to feed us
or to keep our artistry alive
and growing, glowingly
that even they might sight
the beauty and the splendor
of creations dawn again

While out of control
the rich and famous reel
in just one moment of creative depth
while all their misty visions
blow away within a mystic wind
and deep in fog, just now dispersed
upon a vagrant wind
gave in to just a touch of warmth
from sunshine singing far away in space

For always and ever
has this been the truth
all inspiration and all life
and so creative power itself
are found within the depths
of pure emotion
that sings itself awake
within one moment
of the fortitude of nourishment
in form...

? Michaelette ?

3/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1asif.html0100644000274600007660000003405707702013442012126 0ustar area51otbiz12 As If

As If

It is as if you are possessed
by something other than yourself
within these spans of time,
when all seems lost and bleak.
And still, the demon speaks
in words you cant quite comprehend.
Not yet, but soon,
this reality of all that is
will bring the power
of the moon to bear
within her cyclic spin.

when quite suddenly,
again you turn into
the alien you always swore
youd never, ever be.
While in the mirror, you see
no more than just a mere reflection
of your suffering face,
unrecognizable within this core
of time and space unraveling all around.

And the reality of evil creeps
so swiftly all around the edges,
seeping deep into your world -
the one you thought you knew so well -
even as your pores are opening out,
refusing to deny again
the wrath that dwells inside.

Just as suddenly, you realize
this propensity has always lived inside of you.
(What will you do with this new piece of truth...?)
Yet now, completely unconcealed,
the many pieces of the puzzle
start to fall into an order
never known to you to be before.

Secretly, you choose
to wrap yourself in mysteries -
a mystery incomprehensible to other beings.
As secretly again, you try to keep
this rage of ages from exploding
in the here and now, no matter
For you know of all the harm
that this might bring.

Instead you laugh and sing,
pretending everythings all right,
while just beyond all mortal sight,
the devil gathers power
from each instance
of your untold misery.

While daily, in each moment,
these surreal experiences insist
that they unfold, and here and now,
the pressure rises undisguised -
from your bulwark of excuses,
that in the past would always blast
this evil into distant space,
somewhere outside yourself -
where responsibility and consequences
reek their havoc without touching you.

Yet this return of yours is written
by the hands of fate itself -
for atrocity lives on -
a sequel that sustains its opposite;
sought always in the good and kind
that knew of love, yet claimed instead
the attitudes that lead to fame;
that live within a withering belief
as no more than faces
of a death that never really
had to be at all.

Again and again, this inimitable need,
overwhelms the right and good and true
that love would speak;
within in a past that used to keep
you moving on into another day.
While you, so close to that one point,
that lies beyond all resurrection,
refuse again the love that might redeem
your soul from the extremes of right and wrong.

But you believe that no one must suspect
the cruelty that lies inside
the very child you were once were.
And yet, the cruelty exposed
within the vision of this one reality
still speaks its way into your very life
within your chosen attitudes.

The point of no return has come,
and you feel that you must
face these demons down
without an inclination of the reaches
or the darkness of deep.
And suddenly, you start to sink
into the depths of all you
used to think you knew.

Oh, exorcist of catatonia,
please let the demons feed
upon your life and soul,
for without them, you can be no more
than just a useless lump of clay
that plays with gross extremities;
and never comes to find
the center and the balance of it all.

Do you believe then,
in illusions of such pain...?
The moon turns red again.
"Oh dread, I beg you,
please leave me now."
And this becomes the only call
the only words that you can form
within your state of altered consciousness.

Denial of the dark side of reality.
So steep, the price we pay
for some beliefs...
and I sit here wishing nothing more
than an end to all the torments
you keep bringing here to me.

While still you frame
your unlived promises
of utter beauty found in love,
within a vision that can never come to be.
For the beauty of illusion cannot live
without a long and lasting attitude
that promises the moon and stars,
and then becomes the energy
that makes these dreams come true.

I love, yet all that I receive now
in return, is misery and loneliness -
for you have traveled to your past again.
And I find the tide reverses yet again.

Oh friend and foe
of all thats meant to be,
if only you would tell me what
it was that you still want from me.
But instead a silence, deep and telling,
brings the roots of all insanity
to haunt me here.

The gift, the grace,
the power of disgrace -
such are the weapons that you wield.
And somehow I must find a way
to remove myself from all this power
of your misery...

? Michaelette ?

3/10/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1askyourheart.htm0100644000274600007660000000407307702024144013545 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ask Your Heart

Ask Your Heart

There is no rhyme or reason to it;
the rush and crush and clash. Let go
that greed of needing things and simply
ask your heart to rise and fall in you again;
opening and closing in its slow and steady
beat; gently filling all you are with love.

Then know the feel of every need fulfilled
for centered here, within all heart, you are
the gist, the crux, the core, of all...

? Michaelette ?

6/01/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1askyourself.html0100644000274600007660000003477607702013362013564 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ask Yourself

Ask Yourself

Its the strangest thing, the way these
invisible realms work their way into
the patterns of our lives - so completely
interwoven with the seen and therefore,
clearly known to be - juxtaposing all
we try so hard to remain unaware of
about ourselves, even at times when
another is glaring in angry passion at us.

Perhaps you need to ask yourself, why
it is that when an other (especially one
you love) draws back into themselves, or
seeks a space and grace of openness
unbounded by the feel of your enclosure,
the muscles in your stomach clench and
tie you up in knots somehow. Or why it
is so different for, you to sleep at night
when no one else is there.

Or what, pray tell, it is that keeps you racing
through your waking hours, in search of
something (anything) to do that might keep
you from reflecting on just what you really
feel inside. Do you run from grace or grief
or apathy; and then slide yourself exhaustedly
into your lonely bed? The one that someone,
seemingly so alien from yourself, already
occupies so fully without you, so that it is
hard to find the air you need to breathe
yourself to sleep.

Do they impinge then, too, upon the very
dreams your soul would dream you into?
Enclosing with their overwhelming will
to power and control, the very space of
openness that allows your continuity
in love and life beyond all sense of time.
Do you wake within a sweat of startled
terror, never sure just how or why it ever
came about? Heart beating frantically,
as if some prehistoric beast (or perhaps
some ancient fantasy of agonys endurance)
were chasing you; breathing close and hot
upon your neck and back; never stopping to
perceive, the awareness of your need to just
let go and be let go of; so that breathing of a
wind thats free, your soul might find a space
of healing, for this, your racing heart.

Do you wander through those endless days,
just wishing them away? Those days of constant
productivity, where others insist that you must be
so gallant and so kind, that every sense of care
and love must then be left behind, lost within
those creeds and deeds that lead to blind
perfection of beliefs that keep inventing
(recreating) all the habit and the sameness of
your never ending misery. While something,
small and slight yet powerful, kept hidden deep
inside (safe somehow from all their prying eyes),
paces endlessly in circles of your own propensity
of circularity; never erring from that pre-set path
that leaves your spirit dying to be free.

Where then have they gone,
the fantasy and creativity of days when,
just allowed a running free, your body
danced in pure delight of sensuality?
Nakedly embracing every touch and tone of free
sensation.  Tasting, deep and sweet, each moment
of fantastic mystery - as your motion, slowly swift,
would drift so easily into a future never known
for sure; within unknowns of utter faith, that waits
(even now) to capture every particle of your
attention; warm or wet or cold and stiffly dry,
just waiting for another step, another breath,
beyond the borders of a past that only seemed
to be another moments unreality without
your grace and space and place and sense
of utter presence, when all sensation acted out
in unison, and all you are became a gathering
of all that you could ever be. Silent seeds of
deepening that need to open out and blossom
in that solitary fantasy of everything you are.

Have you ever dared become a star? Shining
bright in indigo that sultry color of each sleepless
night, where dreams arrive as if theyd always
silently awaited just that moment and totality of
your attention. Advancing now, receding then,
bleeding themselves openly into eternal space,
where angels gently usher in the sweetest passion,
nurtured by the nature of a love felt as divine;
climbing, effortless, to heights of ecstasy sublime;
where time and distance fade into one point
that echoes sweetly of the harmony your life had
so long left behind; now it glows out in a symmetry
of infinite and lively motion, circling the center of
itself, yet somehow so completely intertwined within
another, that exquisite states of purest being, simply
ease and answer all the questioning equations
born within the deeper meaning of all life.

Have you taken then, another flight of freedom?
Diving deep into the wondrous rushing, poignant
movement of the sea; where life is born so constantly
of great emotive depth, beneath the airy wonder of those
lighter realms you see. Answering the sirens sweet,
seductive pleas of all-enticing mystery; an utter
urge returning constantly into the womb of all
deliverance, without a touch of painful memory;
to find an eerie light that glows, so deeply of an
ember of pure magically induced electric currents.
And there, within that silent and unspoken part of
you, felt a longing, deep and sure, of a need that
left unmet would only suffocate itself within the
apathy of just another endless day of the safety
of survival; that really never seems to live itself
in full at all.

Have you discovered how all depth and height
are nothing without breadth and width? This
circularity of all that is, reflected in each
particle, the core of which must open out into
forever, if ever it would feel itself alive at all.
And oh, that breaking light, just as awareness
takes to heart, this totality of pure existence;
in a tone, a chord, an utterance of a sublimity
of understanding nothing in particular at all
but merely allowing it all to be whatever it is
truly meant to be changing everything
as its essential verity rises from a depth
of airy light now within you.
Have you then, accepted this reality at all?
Perhaps you need to ask yourself again...

? Michaelette ?

5/4/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1asuddengust.html0100644000274600007660000001335707702015407013535 0ustar area51otbiz12 A Sudden Gust

A Sudden Gust

My boundaries are becoming
more clear-cut again, as if the
wind blew somehow, much more
easily through me now.
The misty places where we merged
and became so confused in one another
are fading into nothingness again.
Or perhaps, rather than nothingness,
its that there is more and more clarity
in and of all that lies beyond you.

Where once my world seemed filled
to overflowing with you, others are able
to silently enter now people and things -
allowing me to see the way I used to see,
yet too, enhanced and still somehow
the images are gentled now,
softer, pliable almost like wet clay
awaiting the clear molding of my vision.

Sharp corners seem to round themselves
as I step closer; anger somehow melts into
a wondering sense of curiosity.
A slight sense of sadness wafts
through the freshness of the springtime
breezes playing through the trees.

The sunshine sparkling on the water
no longer is too bright to enter into eyes,
and I see them then, just there -
sprites dancing joyfully together,
just where a beam of fiery light gently
comes to meet and greet the
heaviness of darkened moisture.

The newborn leaves on greening trees
whisper in a melody divine, even as
another sprite will enter in, this time to
dance the teardrops on my cheek away.
Children play, just out of sight;
their laughter and their giggling
come join this festive air of spring.

I see your eyes in the sunlight again
there is that wonderful twinkle,
even as the corners of your mouth
lift themselves into another smile not just
for me, but just because if feels so
good to be alive in love again.

Alas, the image fades once more
touching close, yet never really
touchable at all; and a sudden chilly
gust of wind sends me flying
back inside again...

? Michaelette ?

4/29/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1atall.html0100644000274600007660000000461707702023402012275 0ustar area51otbiz12 At All

At All

Dreams, so fast, become a memory.
Were you ever really here at all...?
Or just a misty vision blurring
back into the mists
of all untime itself;
where nothing ever
stays the same at all.

Count the heartbeats,
one by one,
adding, multiplying, and dividing.
Yet truly, does this counting
make more or less of love;
or does it just increase the need
for more and more...?

...as if the feeling of eternal ecstasy
could ever be increased at all...

? Michaelette ?

3/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1atasteoflove.html0100644000274600007660000001422607702015206013674 0ustar area51otbiz12 A Taste of Love

A Taste of Love

Chocolate covered fantasies
and sugar-coated dreams.
Ghostly lovers bleeding sleep away.
Symbolically, they bleach and blend
the multi-colored hues of day
into the deep of indigo - mistaken
for a total absence all to oft imagined
as a blackened void where spirits
somehow lose the sense of one.

Lollipops in rainbow colors
memories repeating themes
now reaching past the schemes
of minds that work within the dark;
unknowingly exposing gross desire.
Exploding then, as clouds of mushrooms
blend and bleed into a cyclic atmosphere
of healing energy that reaches out to be
a newborn miracle.

Yet nature knows
and the moon still glows
within its golden hues;
while starlight speaks
its truth within each night.
Extending and replete with satin light.
Exceeding concepts centered on
the existence of a nothingness
that simply cannot seem to be
enough for any definition.

While these realms of our awareness
now insist on understanding more
than modern concepts can conceive.
For creativity forever lies beyond a cure
that practices no more than intellectual vanity;
crying out within the dark of flesh
for so much more than blind expression
or moody attitudes that never seem to end.

As gold and blue run into red again
and white exudes rose-colored attitudes
to begin the flow of hearts that love just when
we reach and touch the next dimension -
invisible to comprehension.
And oh, the beauty opening out
in colors of a misty lilac hue
that whispers gently of a purple majesty
when spirit first begins to speak itself.

Seeking and then finding strength
that lives in realms beyond all compromise.
Settling then, within a tone of utter verity;
ascending and descending through
the evolution of much more
than just humanity.
For all that seems most alien
might, in the end, become our friend -
loving, simply loving, all the way . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1atodds.html0100644000274600007660000001710707702014407012461 0ustar area51otbiz12 At Odds

At Odds

At odds with our society
we seek to find our self-esteem
somewhere beyond the crowded places
opening in silent spaces
waiting only that we hear
and dare become ourselves again,
composer and the composition
of this grand reality of consciousness.

While still, we dream of fitting in,
perhaps within a touch of leadership
still far beyond the partnership
that stems from true equality
and seeds the need of this:
our quest for immortality
of one still separated and alone.

We find ourselves rebelling,
for causes lost before they een begin,
and telling all our secrets to the wind;
for the wind is trusted more right now
than the vows of all political maneuvering,
or laws that leave us wanting and desiring
so much more than even they can bring;
when what we really need to be
must bring us to a point of truly
feeling once again alive.

The earth begins to shake and quake -
She feels the need of this rebellion first,
and alters all our heady moods
within sensations attitudes,
that feel no matter what we come to think
as we live and breathe in fields of emotion,
willed into existence by the oddest
sense of pure contrariness.

Walls tumbling and crumbling;
at times just running down themselves
within a splendor seldom seen or known,
as tunnel vision just collapses,
opening all mind to its deliverance
of reaching out within a consciousness;
accepting all that is
within its scope.

Liquidly, we feel our way into
a space and place wed never truly
come to know before,
beyond the doors erected in defense,
in days of yore, just when our innocence
was first and ultimately threatened,
by an erroneous belief in death
of life within these forms.

While the sections we so deftly
once created in our sense of intimacy,
now expose themselves
within an intricate and finely woven lace;
it speaks beyond denial,
of unity within a turn of mind,
where Love is ever left as undefined.
Such is the life conceived
of intellect that still divides
its very definitions of divinity;
still left alone, encased within
its fear of the unknown.

And so we find ourselves at odds again,
remembering at last the moments when
our world revolved without a center,
and simply spun its feelings -
this emotion of sensation
into a life that seeks
to form itself complete,
beyond all odds
at last within us too...

? Michaelette ?

2/29/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1atoneagain.html0100644000274600007660000000571207702022014013301 0ustar area51otbiz12 At One Again

At One Again

Echo of all night unfolding
bring your dreams to me
beyond a misty fantasy
into the consciousness
of all reality

Moon, oh moon
your golden glow
so soothingly arrests
the push and pull and stress
of those still driven on a path
they call success

And star that shines
so temptingly
come into me at last
that together
we might live forever
in the fiery ash
of stardust found in this
one kiss of everlasting sight

Echo of all night unfolding
speak through me your ecstasy
and we shall be at one again
at last...

? Michaelette ?

4/10/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1atonewiththee.html0100644000274600007660000000547107702022256014055 0ustar area51otbiz12 At One With Thee

At One With Thee

Seduction and capitulation
how easily the tides of life can turn
as endless embers burn so bright
that ecstasy seems imminent
and so we dive
deeply into mystery divine
not knowing when or where or why
we might find ourselves alone again.

Free spirit drifting in the wind
speak to me this night
within your ancient voice of verity
of all the many changes
that your presence brings to be;
for now I feel at home
within the vastness of your mystery,
more welcome than I ever felt before.

And I would be at one with thee
beyond the bonds of all capitulation
flying free to heavens heights again...

? Michaelette ?

4/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1authority.html0100644000274600007660000000636707702021251013234 0ustar area51otbiz12 Authority

Authority

What authority do you hold true these days...?

Rising from the base of all creation,
where daemons dwell and try to quell
the rising tides of energy in motion,
authority must find a way to speak
within a potency and purity
of power reaching up and through
the heart.

Where embers burn, so endlessly
we bathe ourselves again within
the warmth of sizzling glows
as potency becomes a stream
of living, loving words and deeds
authored from the base of form itself

Yet what can mere words mean
within eternity - when spoken
and forgotten in the essence
of a clarity of motion?

Sleek and strong, the pure white mare
ran so long and hard upon the earth,
a golden horn is seen to gleam
in stardust streaming from the feet
of just one great ascent.

What authority do you hold true these days...?

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1awaitingamiracle.html0100644000274600007660000000500407702023154014474 0ustar area51otbiz12 Awaiting a Miracle

Awaiting a Miracle

Hours spent in great anticipation
of something never known
yet never feared.

Sweet, the seduction that
lures us to sleep, before we
start to weep into the night.

Awaiting a miracle...
Timelessness - a spell of
pure magic enchantment.

Dizzying, the heights
of our sensation
opening.

Fire of the sweetest
of desires of them all,
whispering upon a vagrant wind.

Awaiting a miracle -
feeling its grace
draw near...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1awayagain.html0100644000274600007660000000662307702021005013135 0ustar area51otbiz12 Away Again

Away Again

Few the words it takes to break
a mood, a spell, a concentration,
as feelings rush away again
to rise another day.

We seek the source of pain
even as it runs away to hide,
venturing only to the edge
but never past the brink -
where change begins to
come alive in this reality.

And rainclouds come to drop
their gloominess into our lives
gray and heavy with misunderstanding;
needing just to weep
yet not allowing this release -
oh no, not yet.

For the pressure is still rising, rising,
almost reaching for the peak
but never quite arriving.
And few the words it takes to break
a mood, a spell of incubation
as concentration drifts away
into the dark of our unknowing
once again.

When will we take the time
to find the light in which
we finally see it true...?

? Michaelette ?

3/06/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1backdown.html0100644000274600007660000002061207702014233012763 0ustar area51otbiz12 Back Down

Back Down

Im coming back down
from the other side of the moon.
Round and round, so lost and found,
yet now it seems I finally see it true;
as magnetizing light fantastic
pulls me back to life.

I swirl and spin within its rays
that emit bouquets of spring in an abundance,
swimming through the emptiness of space,
pulled into an attitude
of exemplary existence.
For life goes on beyond the strife
of painful episodes.

Past that time of desperation
that held us all too near the deep,
within a feel of near obliteration;
surfacing within a trembling sense
of fear drawn out and through
each particle of being;
and yet we feel so very near
the end of this insanity,
as we reach again for dreams
we know are there.

We pause, extending momentary
idioms of our appreciation of the past,
yet never quite achieving what we feel;
and joy astounds us as a tear
leaks slowly down our cheek,
speaking all the sorrow held within -
for we realize that we have found
a friend who understands our deepest needs.

When seeds of hope and charity begin to multiply
as heartbeats slow themselves into a rhythm,
gently easing indecision by a fission
quite beyond the want or will of our creation;
and all we feared might mean oblivion
begins to show itself as the means to our salvation -
the past begins to fade deep into mists
never to be seen in clarity again.

The need for our defensive posture leaves,
yet poses such extraordinary questions,
of who we really are without those masks.
How can we know what were supposed to be
without a guide or sign or sacred symbol
we might follow yet now it seems were being told
that were supposed to lead.

To where, my soul, will these expressions go?
Im told I choose and yet my choices
seem so very limited -
for others always enter in
insisting that they know a better way.
Punishing, instinctively, those such as I
without a seeming reason why,
except that we refuse to live indifferently,
the way they choose to do.

And they are jealous, oh my soul,
of this I know Im not mistaken!
No matter how Ive suffered to become
the one that I now know myself to be,
so that even as they claim to care
I feel the icy stare of their disdain,
and deep remnants of their pain,
left still unimagined in their minds.

As I make my way again back down again
from the other side of the moon.
Round and round, so lost and found,
yet now it seems I finally see it true;
for magnetizing light fantastic
pulls me back to understanding
the differences that somehow we all share;
when at last we dare to feel it true,
and I know that this is so
for the moon confided in compassion
the wisdom of an understanding past all vision,
just when the dark side of the moon
was me . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/15/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1backinthedays.html0100644000274600007660000000734407702020172014012 0ustar area51otbiz12 Back in the Days

Back in the Days

Back in the days of loves beginning
you used to share the everything with me
the good, the bad, the in between
of all you were and all you knew to be.

You said you wanted to fly free
within the arms of love with me forever
but now it seems forever that you're gone
Now the empty place where you reside
encompasses one lonely particle of sand
that used to dwell upon the shores
of love that lives forevermore.

The time has come and gone and come
as it always does, in endless cycles
but youve chosen yet again to live
within your walls of utter separation.
On rare occasion, you allow a memory
of all the love we shared in utter unity
to enter in the chosen place and time
of your present day reality.

And you wonder why I am not thrilled
that you bothered to remember this at all,
when back in the days of loves beginning,
you used to share the everything with me:
the good, the bad, the in between
of all you were and all you knew to be.

Now, no matter how I search
I only find again that you are
gone away from me...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1basicchanges.html0100644000274600007660000001513207702014764013617 0ustar area51otbiz12 Basic Changes

Basic Changes

You feel the want and need of change
both in and out of you,
yet still you scheme
to keep yourself the same;
while circumstances constantly
just seem to reach beyond the point
of the control that you so desperately
wish to retain.

But you have reached the point of no return,
where sorrows angry pain
is felt again within your heart.
You start, you stop, you quake and shake,
yet no relief is to be found -
not now.

Stubbornly, you hear, but still,
you fail to really listen
to any intuition; for that might lead you
far beyond that prison that you built
so long ago - and viscously,
you blame your soul again;
not as a part and parcel of yourself,
but rather as a thing outside
that somehow brings these
feelings of great misery to you.

And this you call
the crux of your responsibility -
this blame, be it of self or other,
that only brings yet more extremities
to battle there inside of you -
the you, you think so innocent and pure.
But oh, my dear, youve done it yet again;
feeling without understanding,
while with your mind and will
you still insist on the atrocities
that blind belief will always bring.

And so you continue to cover your own eyes,
blaming some absurdity of fate or of divinity,
or een at times, all of society,
for the pain youve never chosen to release
or yet allowed to feel itself
into another, brighter state of being.

Instead, you choose the crutch
of that unfeeling scientific attitude
of chemicals that popped or breathed
might make your dreams seem to come true,
even as the truth cried out within your inner ear
expounding each and every move
that you might make in spades,
and yet you take this voice so wise and full,
and call it just another mood
that needs no more than to be pushed aside.

Oh, these points of no return,
when each sudden and emotional decision
moves you into realms of action
that simply cannot be redeemed at all;
until you choose to follow through
on the very basic changes
that the wisdom of your heart
insists upon...

? Michaelette ?

3/8/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1beautysloss.html0100644000274600007660000000462407702023404013555 0ustar area51otbiz12 Beautys Loss

Beautys Loss

Beauty is so intricate
in essence and of soul
that this ever growing whole
is made to bow
in great respect
and honor of such transformation

Yet the artist by whose hand
it is created
can never take the credit
for completion on and of themselves
nor can this beauty be contained
and not be shared

Else all the beauty gained
will once again be gone
as they feel the pain again
of beauty lost...

? Michaelette ?

3/15/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1becareful.html0100644000274600007660000000566707702022023013134 0ustar area51otbiz12 Be Careful

Be Careful

Be careful how you play those games;
you might get burned into a crisp -
for there, within the mists that lie
surrounding intellectual mind
exist the powers of forevermore.

They are raw and they are mighty
awesome in a terrifying way
and when the time for change has come
they never will abide the will
of man alone.

For there within the mists
lies every passion, ever kissed
upon the lips of all thats feminine
and she seeks now to avenge herself
of all the harm that man has done
unto her form within his mortal time.

So be careful how you play those games
of strategy and intellect;
for truly life and love lie in the balance
kissed again beyond the mists of time...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1beginswithus.html0100644000274600007660000000700007702020570013703 0ustar area51otbiz12 Begins With Us

Begins With Us

Mirage or miracle in motion . . . ?
Air quivering with heated molecules
bringing into being what divinity desires most
as it entices heart and soul into
a burst of creativity.

Sensation opening out into a vast humidity,
revealing and repeating an eternal ecstasy
in the worship of a deity of all integrity -
seeking still to blend us all within infinity.

Metamorphosis into a flash of feeling.
Moaning in a tone of utter sensitivity.
Moving past the threshold
of all passionate advice,
we sink so deep, we learn to fly again -
into satin skies that never seem to end.
Where every move endows our mood
with more than any particle of flesh
had come to know itself to be before.

And so we skim, we sink, we swim, we glide
until at last we reach the other side -
reaching out to bridge the light and dark
into these glowing hearts that beat in sync.
Linking every thing with every other.
Knowing, in a sated flow of sleepy dreams
that everything begins again in us . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1behindthepower.html0100644000274600007660000001012007702017526014203 0ustar area51otbiz12 Behind the Power

Behind the Power

Hot, this friction now evolving,
electrically, in energy that
grows in weaves and webs
that reach beyond the world
of all we used to know as real.

Erosion of erosions, etching patterns
in the sands of all of mind,
akin to living, desert winds
that stretch the sand into
eternal ridges of belief.

When will we find the sketch
that might endure into infinity . . . ?
if not within these forms of flesh,
abiding in abeyance,
just beyond all time and space.

Where spirit comes to interlace potential
in unending seeds of happiness,
and moisture flows within unending gales
of the power of one natural,
emotive, sweet release.

That blinds us to the binds of consciousness,
opening forever into those unending fields
that speak beyond all words into
the power of the dawn;
requiring no more than this expression
to reach again a source of understanding.

As friction, hot, becomes the steam
behind the power of everything
that dares to speak and reach
and touch this flesh
and its forever undiluted
feel of ecstasy . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1beingborn.html0100644000274600007660000001201607702016231013137 0ustar area51otbiz12 Being Born

Being Born

A word, a phrase, a stanza: birth -
A poem is being born.
Arching out from heavens of the heart
from one image, tone of harmony,
that purely taken in, must come to be
its own totality.

Tiny as a grain of sand, or huge
as vast horizons spanning distance;
in the end, each living particle
will find its way to words
that must be spoken.

Then the known and the unspeakable,
grasping as a lonely heart prepares to die,
become reborn again within a sigh;
and then again, within a chance,
a glance, a spark of light that reaches out -
touching there pristine and utter beauty
in a single drop of rain upon
a silent window pane.

And there, a flower blooms
so serenely into scent and sight;
a touch of satin softness if we dare
to reach and find the innocence
in its embrace; or there, the towering tree
that sways in rhythmic grace
to a celestial harmony when will we
live the wisdom of its chant?

Images and fables, ornaments and tables,
wondrously enhanced within
a curvature of glance, soul reaching out
through eyes now meant to see
the beauty in each thread spun in
eternal fantasy.

Shall we take it in then, endlessly,
until we overflow with its great presence?
Grasping till we burst within its
mighty shifting tides these moments
of experience so utterly adrift within
the air of all emotion.

And so the day must come, you see,
that feeling deeply all we breathe,
a note, a tone of utterance, breaks out
and through the bounds and bonds
of what we thought we used to be.

A word, a phrase, a stanza birth
another poet born.
How is it one, so small as me,
encompasses it all...?

? Michaelette ?

5/2/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1bestofall.html0100644000274600007660000000525507702022572013161 0ustar area51otbiz12 Best of All
Best of All

Do you even now remember
how it was you used to look at me...?
With starlight in your eyes, when
love in purity of flesh ran so
completely through your being
that everything I was just melted
into all of you, and then we flew
through endless skies, formation of
pure magic in the making of our love.

Electronically, our messages would
fly into each others hearts and souls,
within an ever building sense
of one reality that pleaded just
to be made flesh and blood. Twas
then it seems, I knew you best all.
And yet, we can't go back to that,
not now that we have come to know
the touch...

? Michaelette ?

5/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1beyondallhighs.html0100644000274600007660000000630507702021327014174 0ustar area51otbiz12 Beyond All Highs

Beyond All Highs

Double helix, chain of being.
Signature of all we've come to be
growing in a surge of soul-struck memory.
Squaring itself in infinite cycles,
meandering through satin streams
that come unbidden through each strand of hair.
And touching air, we take to flight again.

Angelic wings are glowing, growing -
seeding hope and faith and charity
within the bind of blind belief
of aerospace and chemistry;
taking us to spaces never known before,
where the source of sacristy lies waiting,
welcoming each one who dares its door.

To step beyond the threshold of all pain,
where feelings wax and wane unnoticed,
for ecstasy has taken hold, refusing to let go
in a natural high of pure enlightenment
that speaks through particles and cells.

Doubling, then squaring all the best
just as we spread our wings and start to fly
beyond all highs into infinity . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1beyondbalance.html0100644000274600007660000000662207702020767013777 0ustar area51otbiz12 Beyond Balance

Beyond Balance

Over the edge, beyond the brink
flying high just as we sink
to an abysmal depth;
as all of mind is spent
into one particle of being
a pure expression of itself,
alive in never-ending tapestries
of its construction and creation.

It sinks to swim to flights of height
through the abyss of a nighttime sky
and comes to know the stars reborn
again within their oh so mortal form.
Yet these wings precede each embryo
and every chance to dance this life
within unending tapestries of pure delight.

Where yours and mine become no more
than passing fantasies of yore;
here and gone within a wink
that blinks itself awake;
desiring more than what is known
has ever been before.

While here, upon this distant shore
all mind rebuilds itself anew
just over the edge
and beyond the brink
of all we think is real . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1beyonddeparture.html0100644000274600007660000006533207702012720014376 0ustar area51otbiz12 Beyond Departure

Beyond Departure

I knew by mid-January that you werent going to stay
that all your promises of forever were being swept
back into those very connections you so desired
to escape from. Even you did not want to admit
that though. More and more, you became no more
than just a guest here, instead of an inhabitant;
at first in ways so subtle as to confuse both heart
and mind but still, they were real and I felt
the shifting sands begin to break apart
beneath my feet, as our foundation of love
began to crack and slowly crumble
under the strain of all the weight
of your past, returning to you then,
as always it must until resolved.

I kept hoping though, that it would prove to be
no more than just a passing phase of growth
concomitance of our future being
somehow regrounded anew. So I chose
to believe your many words and phrases,
repeating themselves into my ear
in tones that felt so real, at least just at
that moment they were spoken; and to
focus on those moments when still
we were able to share love.

More and more though, I felt you drifting
back into your old life, as time went on.
I railed now and then against the vast
unfairness of it all. I used every bit of energy
that I could gather to myself to try and find
a way to make it work. Plan upon plan,
reasoning within rationalization, I presented
all these things to you as best I could.
You rejected it all though, never stopping
long enough to even consider
the implications of where your nature
was driving you to again, or why.
And so you simply let it go, a little
at a time, this love of ours.
Yet every time you did, I felt
a deep and poignant pain.
Why didnt you...?

Two more months went by, within
those extremes of love and ambivalence.
With every passing exchange between us,
each communication, even all of those
that were left unspoken, yet garnered
in a touch, my heart cried out in silence
"You must defend yourself!" But alas,
I couldnt then, for the greater part
of my own strength had somehow melted
into you; and the longer you were there,
the more depleted I became. And I felt
this vast confusion, for reality and truth
had split apart. I realized, a week (or
was it two or three?) before you left, that
the greatest portion of your best energy
(which by then was also mine) was being
spent by you and sent by you right back into
that past of yours that youd never really
separated from yourself, or mourned
the loss of.

I attempted, in so many ways, to tell you
all of this, even then, but it all seemed much too
complicated to explain or for you to understand;
and you were already so caught up "elsewhere,"
that you did not even seem to hear a word I said.
Your past became a wall that stood between us,
and finally, in the week before you left,
I managed to begin a breaking free from
that overwhelming feeling of that unreality
that your focus on elsewhere kept bringing
somehow into me. I began to make my own
decisions again then, for I had no other choices
left at all. Youd made it so clear by then that
I would never be a priority in your life.

You began, even before you left
to withdraw your deepest self from here,
even then expressing a sorrow for each
of the loving moments we had shared.
Your tears seemed so out of place to me
at that point, in my unknowing state
of choosing to believe in our love and your words,
even then, when you had given up on all of it,
but yet untold to me. Still, your impending totality
of departure was beginning to bleed itself
into the very air and atmosphere I breathed.

And oh, the many momentary lies
that you conceived then, still wanting
every precious drop of love that you
could get from me. Where once Id felt
that love returned from you though, then
I only felt an increasing sense of impending
utter grief, but the why of this was still confused
in all the words of love you gave to me.

By then, I hardly slept at all by night,
for the only time I could even begin
to make sense out of any of it, was
when you slept. You resented that, too,
even that little bit of personal freedom
that I sought for myself while you were here,
and your growing resentment of me
hurt me worse than anything else you did;
for I felt it, yet you kept denying it. And I had
spent my every energy loving you by then,
every day, in every way I could. Perhaps,
this then, is the crux of my mistaken attitude,
that I had not withheld enough of my own love
to keep me going, as yours petered out,
spent again on all youd said youd left
behind for good.

Twas then the end began, as you left me
and returned again, so many times, in so
very many ways, at so many levels. Near the end,
in the course of nine short days, I was left reeling
by the ferocity of your movements. But you
kept telling me that you were coming back home
to me, returning on that eighth day and I clung
to those words, that last promise of yours to me,
as a drowning person would cling to a float.
You returned then too, even if not quite the way
youd promised, and one last time you convinced me
to pour all the love I held inside into your being.
That done, you lingered for a while, projecting
yet more of your sorrow into me, which still I
did not understand at all, for hadnt you come
back home to me as promised? Just before
you fell asleep that last night, you finally told me
that you were moving out for good.

No discussion, no communication, no hint from you
that this had been your plan for weeks already,
if not longer. You shattered me completely that day
just tore my world to crumbling bits and pieces.
By then, having vented the worst of your many
emotions into me, you fell asleep. Now under
the brunt of so much pressure that had been yours,
that somehow was blowing itself apart
inside of me then, adding so much weight on top
of my own feelings, of course I couldnt sleep,
no matter the early morning hour we had reached.

And so I chose to walk, out into the indigo,
even as the fading starlight was bringing
the morning dew to form again. I couldnt think.
To try to feel it all at once just then would surely
have killed me; and so I walked, I sought release
in physical movement. I was in what most
would call a state of shock, but as my body
moved itself, one emotion, clear and powerful,
began to rise through the fog of unreality.
And my own voice came back to me, so clear
and unadorned was its simplicity of truth.
And I knew beyond a doubt at that moment,
that nothing I could say or do would ever
be enough to change your mind. My rising
anger was all that carried me through
in those last hours. One emotion, the last bastion
it kept me from collapsing entirely then.

It brought me to my home again
and I woke you up - you who slept
so peacefully on my couch as I was left
to feel the consequences of your unspeakable
and uncaring decisions. Without regard,
I made you leave, right then and there,
for I could no longer tolerate your presence
that sought no more than to destroy me then.
I literally threw your possessions toward the
door then to get you out. And you threw them
then, into your car and quickly drove away,
without so much as a word of goodbye.

Unknown to you, my burst of anger spent
on those last moves you should have taken
on yourself, I crumbled to the floor on my knees,
crying out in such pain that I am surprised,
looking back, that my neighbors didnt wake
and call 911. If they had, I would have gladly
gone and let the doctors medicate me back
into numbness. But alas, no one came at all,
to help me through, not even you. I tremble,
even now, as I write this, remembering those
feelings the utter sense of hopelessness,
despair, emptiness, pain beyond measure.

I knew not where to turn except to my own
daughter then. Id helped her through a
similar onslaught from a man shed loved
as well as Id loved you, and she remembered,
and so came to me to return the gestures then.
She helped me hide or throw away the few remnants
of you still in sight, that would only remind me
that you had been here. She even helped me
change the bedding, so that when I finally
dropped exhausted into bed that night,
at least your scent would not be lingering there
to make me feel even worse. She reminded me,
so poignantly, of all I'd faced before, and lent me
that same strength that I'd lent her. She is the
only one, even now, who understands.

I have since then, more often than not, used anger
to keep you at bay, as on and off you tried
to redeem those distant connections with me that
seemed to enhance you, even as they
depleted me, even as your soul cried out to mine
in pain for a response. It is as if you can still sense
my weaker moments, even though you are
at such a distance from me now. I think
to myself, that now that you are back
in that past life you chose as your future,
it must again be happening with you;
unsatisfied with the place you are at,
you again seek no more than escape.
I see lately too, that your thoughts and focus
are again reaching for this place instead of that,
even as you reached for there, while you were
here. I wonder too, how long it will be,
before you find another time and place
and face in which to unburden yourself.

But alas, I cannot be with you at all,
while you are still so divided within yourself.
My life must be here, within myself, of
my own creation once again. I need
all of my loving energy here now, to bring
this love into being for myself again. I have
mourned, deeply and already too long, the loss
of your love in my life. Youth is no longer
on my side or yours, and something inside of me
tells me only this, that I must move on - without you,
for I cannot do your mourning for you.

Whether you understand this now,
or choose not to, I will do what I must do,
even as I pray for loving intercession
from sources beyond the power
of understanding. My life is my own again,
as ever it needs to be, and yours is yours,
every time you choose to make it so.

I see more and more how you keep choosing
though, a life prescribed for you by so many others.
Through our time together, I felt your soul,
struggling to break free. For a short time, it did,
you did. Why you choose now to imprison yourself
again, I never wish to understand. You must struggle
with that question inside yourself alone now, and
find your own answers, as moment by moment,
your life lives you on, with or without your consent.

I see in retrospect now, just where the truth
was twisted into misalignment, as I allow
within this letting go, my soul to view the whole
for me. And I know deep in my heart, just this:
my love was true. I only wish this truth
had been yours too...

? Michaelette ?

4/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1beyondtomorrowyesterday.html0100644000274600007660000002026107702014302016213 0ustar area51otbiz12 Beyond Tomorrow, Yesterday

Beyond Tomorrow, Yesterday

Beyond tomorrow, yesterday still dances
willfully into our lives; in reams of momentary
memories, still left unspoken and thus unexpressed.
We dream of days of happiness that merely seem
extinct; love scheming still, its path through every
heart; until all we are, remains within a single
particle this pureness of the life of love in being.

The sun breaks through, as clouds are strewn
in ever changing patterns that belie each solid,
solitary form. They meet, becoming one, then
draw apart again, never quite the same as what
they were. Sometimes they clash and thunder,
rumble; mere warning of impending storms to come.
But then an unexpected wish of wind blows in
and rushes them into a quick departure.

Oh, to be the grass that grows so easily beneath
all feet, rooted solidly in earth while surrounded by
support. A blade within a long-grown family that
lives in harmony; it seems to be beyond destruction.
Bending in the wind; trimmed time and time again by
metal blades, but never bleeding its essential
life away.

Hear the birdsong, joyously reporting all the
heraldry of spring; advancing as an angel will,
invisibly and yet we feel the essence of its
presence, as sight and sound is changed into
the prescience of divine sublimity.

Its a perfect springtime day. Sunbeams dancing
on the ripples of the pond, so brightly paced
and spaced, they draw me near. The soft grass
beckons me to have a seat and just enjoy
the show. The wind blows oh, glistening
crescendo of a sight! Of a sudden then, the
tears run out my eyes to only trail down
my cheeks, in memory of times that you and I
once shared. I simply allow them to be, even as
I tell my favorite trees of your sudden, inexplicable
departure. They murmur in a soothing song
of great empathic understanding, easing more
this unspeakable pain in my heart.

These trees, they are so intimately familiar with
the sorrow of departures. So many seasons have
they gained and lost again this way. The willows
weep in their majestic, magic sway of branches
and of leaves with me. The poplar tree, towering
high above the rest, rustles all its leaves in
symmetry just now, for me. The strength of warm,
dry wind ascends, amending the path of tears, too
dear to just be wiped away. And still, the sparkling
dance of sprites goes on in ever moving fantasy.

When there, within the pond, not far from shore,
I notice how a large and long-dead carp decays
himself into the living water. Scales lost, his
glamour taken, skin sways away within the gentle
movement of the tide. Muscles through the ribs
are seen, as if a mass of straw-like hair, within a
still slack gathering of motion. One open eye
stares up into the sky the other keeping peace
with all that is most deep. A cartilage, once
kingly fin, announces still its dignity in death.
Every ripple brings its ultimate assent to
moving on, as the head bobs up and down,
just nodding ever over in a gesture of pure yes.

It seems death must be much easier somehow,
than these returns of our departure; while
beyond tomorrow, yesterday still dances back
into our lives again...

? Michaelette ?

5/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1birthdaygirl.html0100644000274600007660000001521407702014755013672 0ustar area51otbiz12 Birthday Girl

Birthday Girl

Birthday girl, why do you weep?
What secrets do you keep in solitude?
And why this mood of neediness
just when your teenage years
have chosen themselves
to be left behind?
Numbers changing endlessly
into each other - what does
this do to our reality?

Could it be you never really
wanted to grow up at all . . . ?
for now you fall into a mold
that isnt any fun
as responsibility is heaped
upon those slender shoulders,
and the holders of the cards
just never seem to want
to let you play.

Already tired of the games of make-believe
that all adulthood seems to deem necessity
and dire, the consequences
of your disobedience.
So tell me then, just when do we receive
a sense of individual authority
if not right now . . . ?

Validated by our soul
forever reaching back to home,
as senses verify our every mood.
And oh, the hues as mists arise
desiring no more than just
to paint the starry skies alive again.

Look out there and learn to see
the muddied path of multitudes
that leads to only death and misery;
and come to choose another way
where visions play beyond
all nighttime dreams;
singing through these endless days
of utter harmony, when all we are
is what is best of all.

Twist and shake and shimmy through
all the bland and worn-out rules
that never really worked at all;
and in all you say and do
express yourself within
a tone of deep emotion.
For magic is in motion, even now.
Changing all the world somehow
as more and more, we all succumb
to the enchantment of its spell.

Weep for joy, for joy is near;
hear it whispering within your ear and
in this springtime breeze that plays for you,
no matter that the world says you ought to do.
Stand up and fight for what you know is right.
Straightforwardly, as if you knew it all;
for those emotions keeping you at bay
still wish no more than to come out and play.

Rearranging everything
if once we wish upon a dream
and dare to make it true . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/9/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1birthintoreality.html0100644000274600007660000000457707702023425014606 0ustar area51otbiz12 Birth Into Reality

Birth Into Reality

Did you think then
that I do not truly know
of this experience
of the pain of labor
in all that I have birthed
and yet rebirth time and again
into reality of flesh and form...?

and yet, my dear
if ever you come
to the path of mystery
its wisdom surely now
must lead you there
just past the mists
of all your suffering
into the dawn
of all tomorrows ecstasy...

? Michaelette ?

3/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1bittersweet.html0100644000274600007660000001113307702016724013541 0ustar area51otbiz12 Bittersweet

Bittersweet

A flash of lightning struck
and you were gone;
oh, bittersweet, these memories
that you have left behind.

Wanting more, receiving less
and less and less and less
of satisfaction...

Deep waves of oceanic depth
that brought us to the height
of ecstasy forever moving
in and out, beyond the known
of past experience.

Where light is spent in innocence
as flesh becomes the feel
of all thats real, not just
this emptiness of what
you left behind.

Wanting more, receiving less
and less and less and less
of satisfaction...

Dark, the indigo that seems
just the darkness of imagining
of all that could have been;
until one star, reborn in light
comes back into my sight.

Wanting more, receiving less
and less and less and less
of satisfaction...

Longing though, cannot abide
within the empty skies that scream
for no more than to dream
this love back to reality again -
and desire rises cyclically
just as the moon.

Wanting more, receiving less
and less and less and less
of satiation...

For a flash of lightning struck
and you were gone;
oh, bittersweet these memories
that you have left behind...

? Michaelette ?

5/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1breakingfree.html0100644000274600007660000001137007702016460013624 0ustar area51otbiz12 Breaking Free

Breaking Free

Like a caged animal -
ferocity now held inside itself;
unable to break free
within the greater world
of being other than itself.

He paces, first in circles, then in squares.
Now and then he traces out
a diamond in the dust of where he walks
yet never stops to note its history;
or the diamond dust that he created
with his every movement.
And so he merely treads it back
into the earthen base of his enclosure,
still so unaware of who he really is.

On rare occasion, a true vision enters in
and is consumed by him unknowingly.
Never understood within the fullness
that each vision holds within a tenderness;
reaching still, in memory, for when the feel
of running free was right, until one day,
he glanced askance, and looked beyond
his cage to see a brilliant image shining back
as if within a mirror the fiery sun
had touched upon.

He stops then, in his tracking
of a past that lives no more,
and reaches for it all.
Amazed, he finds an open door
so easy to step through
as if his cage were never really
real at all.

He listens to the wind again,
singing sweetly through the trees,
and scents the wisdom flowing
through the leaves that dare to sing.
Uttering a melody of loving moods
just starting to grow bold.
Breaking free, the spring of love
within his heart flows free.
Oh, love...!

? Michaelette ?

4/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1broughttobe.html0100644000274600007660000001277507702015570013537 0ustar area51otbiz12 Brought To Be

Brought To Be

I swing tonight, upon a star
so distant that the ordinary
simply disappears,
while a sheer yet utter distance
separates the now from all
that used to seem to be so real.

We love, oh spirit, love beyond deliverance -
accepting even what we know to be askance,
for love is truly all there is to be;
and yet the chaos still intrudes
awakening the many moods
of our deliverance from pain.

We are here, so near to ecstasy;
yet still, the past will intercede,
and blind beliefs will play their way
into the gist of each new day
until we come to understand
the vast demands of our eternity.

And now the point of no return
insists on being heard for what it is,
the ecstasy and bliss of just one kiss,
implanted in these cells of our mortality
that proves beyond a doubt that what we feel
must be more real than any theme of mind
meandering through realms of mystery.

A rhythm speaks, beyond what words can say,
as tone intones an amplitude of deep desire
just when a spirits fire burns so high;
yet what is nigh resides so deep inside
that we must fall into the depths
before the rest that we so need
becomes itself, complete, replete
within an altered attitude of high vibration.

Deeply now, it moves itself into our lives,
centering the paradox of all extremes,
even as it dreams itself anew
within the darkest hues of indigo,
as soul expands into reality
in increments that seem unknown
coming now to dwell within
the innocence each cell of life must be.

While a harmony begins to sing itself alive,
beneath the striving vagrancy
of what the past has brought to be.
Swinging now, upon a star -
and its tone expands
into infinity . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/1/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1butterfliesandangels.html0100644000274600007660000000451507702023526015411 0ustar area51otbiz12 Butterflies and Angels

Butterflies and Angels

Butterflies and angels
violins and harps galore
thus is this life
an ever-living beauty
for us all

We share so many things
emotions ride on tides
that often seem out of control
while here within a flutter
of all wings, lies love complete

Freely given and received
like butterflies and angel wings
building in intensity
free to bring the heaven of eternity
back to our hearts again...

? Michaelette ?

4/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1capturedmoment.html0100644000274600007660000000734307702020205014224 0ustar area51otbiz12 Captured Moment

Captured Moment

You captured my heart
and my soul so completely
within sweet promises
you never meant to keep at all

As the morning arises
and spring again unfolds her glory
I realize only this - that I still love
yet in truth, I cannot give
this love to you, not anymore
for you have squandered its existence

I refuse to be the sacrifice
upon your altar of denial
for that was never meant to be at all
nor torn between the battle games
you choose to play these days

Time goes on, I find myself again
alive and on the mend
my soul is all I ever need
to awaken and enlighten me
and still, I am

And so, the price you made me pay
must come around and back to you
while my belief in love
stands true and strong
no matter all the wrong
you did to me

For I fly free of you again
and find my wings
are taking me
much higher than
Ive ever been before...

? Michaelette ?

4/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1chaliceoflife.html0100644000274600007660000000747607702020065013765 0ustar area51otbiz12 Chalice of Life

Chalice of Life

The chalice of life pours forth mysteriously,
nurturing unending seeds of soul,
each precious drop a diadem
of dazzling hues
responding to each other
in an intimacy distance
all too often brings to be;
and like a string, stretched taut and tight,
oer the whittled shape of hollowed trees
they sing together,
graciously and in abundance.

A glow of subtle radiance expands,
rolling cross the bands of air waved radios,
pausing each and every time
a rose begins to bloom;
for its opening is everything there is.
And the shades of night unbend themselves,
stars sparkling with every beat of moonlit hearts,
ascending once again as night descends.

Oh indigo, how gracious
your display of starry skies,
just as the moon begins to wink her eye
in vast approval of the scheming
streams of starlit night, just as the moon
pours forth mysteriously
from the chalice held invisibly
by the greatest hands of artistry.
They sketch each beam of dark to life
again within the chalice of your form. . .

? Michaelette ?

2/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1choices.html0100644000274600007660000000575507702021734012627 0ustar area51otbiz12 Choices

Choices

He giveth and then once again,
he chooses to just take it back -
as if the darkness of all matter
must truly be his too -
no matter the level, no matter the feel,
no matter emotions that make him now reel;
yet too, so very real,
that he must pause and reconsider
the actions that hes taken in the past.
And contemplate the vast, unending
changes he has wrought
within himself, yet even more
within so many others.
And how this all
just keeps expanding out
from one lump sum of motion,
alive within his chosen actions,
while his soul abides in loneliness,
speaking, but not listened to
abiding by the heart of truth
he might yet live,
in his reality in form...

? Michaelette ?

3/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1choosetobe.html0100644000274600007660000000572207702021774013342 0ustar area51otbiz12 Choose To Be

Choose To Be

So many moments wasted
already in this flow of time
that still, you seem to deem
some shrunken form
of all of deity of heart and soul
imposed by those who know
not of the worth of who
you truly are, including you

When will you finally
choose to be
just who and what
your birth unto this earth
has deemed to be...?

You have the will
the mind, the power, the form
of spirit fire that burns
eternally within your heart

So tell me now
when will you finally
choose to be
just who and what
this life we live
meant you to be...?

? Michaelette ?

3/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1choosing.html0100644000274600007660000001013407702017521013005 0ustar area51otbiz12 Choosing

Choosing

The world begins and ends
in you and you alone
and all you come to choose
to believe in as reality
and thus begins the ending
of every new beginning
of eternity in form

What then will you choose...?
(for this choice is offered only
once within infinity)
the world as it once was
or all that you believe and feel
this world was truly meant to be...?

Or would you lapse again
into the mists of all untime
that some fair maiden
never really chooses
to become at all
yet in her choice of all that is
chooses even now to live
her life within reality
with love

Make no mistake
this choice is yours
and yours alone
and will ever live within
the one reality
of flesh and form and you

And if you, yourself
cannot find the truth
of this existence
in the form of your creation
then how on earth
can you expect
some other form
to take you there for free...?

? Michaelette ?

3/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1chosen.html0100644000274600007660000000555307702022157012465 0ustar area51otbiz12 Chosen

Chosen One

Elixir golden, shining bright.
Taste of ecstasy's delight.
How tender, your sweet nurturance.
(Just then, the full moon, shining bright,
begins her great descent into the night...)

Diving deep and rising high, we come
to meet the fire of the greatest of desires -
for life in all the splendor
and the glory of conception.
(Oh glowing sphere of numinous attraction,
ever drawing nearer to the heart.)

Passion flowing, moonlight glowing,
wind singing in an everlasting harmony.
Each touch a revelation of communion.
Every breath, another melody.
(Divine, the scent and sense of mystery
uncovered and enhanced by history.)

Oh, chosen one, this destiny
was ever meant to be...

? Michaelette ?

4/9/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1clarity.html0100644000274600007660000000645507702021153012652 0ustar area51otbiz12 Clarity

Clarity

The sun arose again
to shine upon the salty seas
of Her own making;
endlessly diluting ecstasy
within the scope of mortal sight,
for division reigned oer all the lands
born within the unity of Her creation.

White, the light of beams too strong
to bear Her tenderness.
Golden then, the death created
from the might of all Her innocence.
For one alone can never rule it all,
nor seek to school the neediness
of divisionary tactics back to life.

Rain forests fell then, to the might
of electrically enhanced displays
of light that never could be true at all.
For machines had come to rule
the world of man, who willed
himself to stand alone again.

Still, they wander, endlessly,
within the dark of night,
seeking for the source
of all the life they never dared
to really live with Her...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1clearaway.html0100644000274600007660000001000007702017617013142 0ustar area51otbiz12 Clear Away

Clear Away

A storm was brewing
somewhere there
within the world at large,
affecting each relationship;
as if its strength of violent division
might somehow be appeased
by who we are.

At first a peace is felt, deceiving,
within a silence held before each storm;
for nature, in her wisdom
plans these things well in advance.
And yet a feel of sensitivity
cant help but bleed itself into the air,
for those who have the countenance
to recognize the signs.

There within, without -
a battle brewing;
attacking everything as if
an alien invasion had occurred.
If only we, for once, could see it clear.
Wed find that all that seems most alien
is also part of all we need to learn.

And that the fear we never dared
to reach beyond before,
then suddenly begins to disappear,
within a mist that seeks a fiery light;
burning through a distance
that never really eer existed here.
Shining bright to burn this burden clear away

While inthe wake of every passing storm,
unending hues of blue
and ultimately sunlit skies
begin to bloom again...

? Michaelette ?

3/12/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1coldandvaporous.html0100644000274600007660000001707007702014414014403 0ustar area51otbiz12 Cold and Vaporous

Cold and Vaporous

Cold and vaporous, the breeze blows through
imprisoning all clarity behind a wall of glass,
where people hide as spirits glide right through;
and moisture waits, so patiently, to be let in.

A fog is forming, hauntingly,
without a thought or word;
yet whispering in taunting phrases,
longing to be part of life again.

As it listens to the silence of nostalgic voices
seeping out of focused lines of sight,
wondering aloud through memories
of how it used to be and all that might
still come to live itself eternally to life in form.

Memory swells out again
within their tattered minds,
tempering today with specious attitudes
of all that yesterday could never really be;
insisting that all happiness become some
worn-out sense of their proprietal reactions.

Yet their frowns betray it all somehow -
the jealousy and loneliness,
the anger lying unexpressed beneath
that unguent smile they place upon their face.
And they cant explain the shakiness
they always seem to feel.

A sense of routine unfamiliarity
extrapolates the blankness in their eyes,
that dryly cry in dusty motes
where sparkling streams of light once shone,
but now a nervousness resides,
overriding streams of utter sensitivity.

They are touching close
yet never seem to reach
quite far enough to know each other well,
as if a spell of insanguinity once cast
refused to seep through pores
of masks they wore for oh so long.

They form and then reform again -
in truth, always the same -
yet gaining weight in great accord
with what they think as gravity;
as mass unconsciously expands itself
around, about and through
the many moods they never
quite have come to know at all.

For to feel is anathema to
the world that they have learned is true,
and they rail against the feel of their emotion;
thinking, ever thinking, as if thinking could contain
the very soul that brought their life to form;
as they seek, time and again, to tame
all that instinct names as natural.

Yet this truth that they believe
is made of factual mass that lacks
the creativity that life is based upon.
It's become the gross of a metallic mode
that speaks in tinny moods of gray and black,
while in the purity of white lies hiding
all the many hues that brighten life.

Skies reaching down to breathe themselves awake
yet still they take the tried and over-traveled road
where all they know is what life used to be;
as cold and vaporous, the breeze blows through
imprisoning a sense of clarity behind a wall of glass
where in a mass, they hide from the reality
of what theyre meant to be . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1collage.html0100644000274600007660000001033307702017371012606 0ustar area51otbiz12 Collage

Collage

Collage of pictures turning
round the world and in the mind.
Which angle and which view
can any one now choose
to make it right...?
Without excluding anything at all -
not even any small and tiny
insignificance of seed that speeds
to grow into the truth.

Which shall we nurture, tenderly
to life in full if not them all...?
The mighty and the small
and too, each one that lies
just in between.

Here in us
or there in them -
the same, when sums
are balanced at the end
of all beginnings.
Yet what, my friend
can truly lie between?

Time or space or distance?
Deeds of fortitude?
Altitude or attitudes?
Moods and moodiness, oh yes.
Watery, this realm of contemplation
as feelings stream
through reams of memories
discovering that love
was never really lost at all.
It simply waited
for our arrival and attention.

Collage of snapshots taken,
captured and released.
Now flowing free
in us and on the wind,
always in love...

? Michaelette ?

4/8/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
\Take me home . . . 1cometogether.html0100644000274600007660000000312107702024550013657 0ustar area51otbiz12 Come Together

Come Together

Heaven and hell have come together
here inside, yet too, the world over
this time within a harmony
so sweet the angels sing
an ever newly written song of songs
to rise within a dawn of evermore...

? Michaelette ?

4/4/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1comingout.html0100644000274600007660000001664007702014451013207 0ustar area51otbiz12 Coming Out

Coming Out

Afraid of his own power
as he constantly submitted
to the blind demands of time
thats never really come to know
itself in form at all.
He drifted in a dream
of others making.

Away he ran then, constantly,
abasing life that he might be
just what the others
thought he ought to be;
consistently deferring to demands
that made no sense
within the greater scheme of things,
and yet commanding
his attention nonetheless.

While tension built within him,
straining his preponderance
of peace and of propriety;
and he began to fight society
unconsciously, within his many
moods and attitudes,
instigating insurrection
with every tone that lay behind
the voice hed trained so well.

Waves of emotion started to swell,
moving ever closer the shore.
Could the land withstand this strength
of oceanic movement?
As the spirit of the earth began
to rise in tides that seemed to be
so inaccessible to their demeanor,
that visions swam behind his eyes
inciting only more to come to be.

Attraction, creativity,
and the seeds of all destruction,
lay equally within the core;
and all that he abhorred the most
somehow became the center of it all -
rising, fading, shadowing,
his every mood and move.

The walls of blind belief were being shattered
while all that mattered most to him
seemed suddenly a sham.
When once again he ran into a wall,
ivy-veined with fear and pain,
recorded in a past that left its scars
deep within the wells and walls of flesh.

He wondered when he closed his eyes at night
what visions of the day would turn and sway,
returned to him as if theyd never
seen a sense of clarity at all;
rising once again as if within another realm,
encompassing a purity of atmosphere,
unhindered and unhampered
by the grossness of society at large.

When finally, the night arose in indigo,
within a glow of healing tone,
that spoke to him in hues of violet light -
deepening, somehow, his soul
into the very center of each cell,
where crystal glory opened unto him.
For truly here beyond the definition of all sin,
pure beauty found an inspiration,
speaking then in words of loving hues.

They whispered that
hed more than paid his dues
and might come out to play
yet once again . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/07/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1completeinlove.html0100644000274600007660000000611207702021553014222 0ustar area51otbiz12 Complete in Love

Complete in Love

Emotion streams,
its power surges;
source and force of all our lives.
Rising from the center
of the very earth itself.
beaming through unending
multitudes of particles
that seek to blend into the love
of all our being.

Dancing motion swirling through
in misty visions of the dream.
Opening to inner eyes
that dare to take the time
and space to see.
Are we wise enough
to come to touch, to know,
to sense, again in innocence
the truth of what we feel?

Mindlessly, we search, we seek,
feeling through the dark
of all that matters
to find ourselves
complete in love again...

? Michaelette ?

4/8/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1computation.html0100644000274600007660000000372307702024270013543 0ustar area51otbiz12 Computation

Computation

Add it all up,
whats left in the end -
a never-ending story
of the misery of sin...?

Then tell me, love,
what do you think
thid ecstasy of love
is all about...?

Add it all up,
for the sums must be told,
here, within the greater toll
of heart...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1conceivesitself.html0100644000274600007660000001025607702017426014372 0ustar area51otbiz12 Conceives Itself

Conceives Itself

In the silence of this atmosphere
where even wind dares not to stir,
footsteps echo from the deep
of days we thought too ancient
to repeat.

Tomb-like, this ambivalence
of hearts that beat among
the dream-like state of all
we thought was dead;
as a fearsome awe of wondering
invades the channels
we once thought we knew.

Just when the modern cables
that seemed to bear the power of light
into this realm of ancient
and yet still begotten mystery
abruptly cease to function there at all,
for the fall of innocence itself
now seeks to rise again.

It is born of centuries of mans denial
as this earth hung in suspension
revolving in an orbit of misunderstanding,
conceived of intellect that is confused,
now reeling dizzily into the real
that feels its way into all life again.

For the heart of earth itself has born
the pain of all our ill-begotten misery
and knows beyond all doubt
the time has come to rediscover
this timelessness that life is based upon;
and so we spin, were spun, were whirled
into a tapestry that must conceive
itself complete within each form
of its deliverance...

? Michaelette ?

4/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1constantalteration.html0100644000274600007660000000767707702017703015134 0ustar area51otbiz12 Constant Alteration

Constant Alteration

Nothing ever stays the same, no matter how
we try to make it so. The ambiance, the glow
of love demands our constant alteration; within
this space and time of yours and mine. As a great
power of this mystery divine, bleeds itself through
all we ever thought that we should be; ever altering
each subjective attitude we hold.

And time moves on within an empty space of
galaxies, forever moving through an indigo that
glows and flows itself alive, into each misty night
of dreams that seem so real - so real we touch;
awakening within an ambiance surreal, that
speaks into that inner ear where intuition tries
again, repeating endlessly, its chant of love
within pure being and the essence of this flesh.

Reality, this innocence of sweet desire;
fire burning brightly through the endless
days of habits great demise. Fireflies
explode again within these dreaming nights
of yet another summers great awakening;
teasing, pleasing every child to rise again
and play, no matter any age that time might
claim. Forever will this child of such divine
and natural affinity, live on within this
constant alteration of it all...

? Michaelette ?

5/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1crashingwaves.html0100644000274600007660000000737007702020144014043 0ustar area51otbiz12 Crashing Waves

Crashing Waves

Thunderous, the sound of crashing waves
upon the rocks; resoundingly surreal and yet
familiar too, this attitude of natures moodiness.
While in one voice, that dares speak out in
insolence, the last connection spoken,
breaks the spell. It melts in icy waters
that must quell the heat of never knowing calm.
Condensed, its rage will rise again and overcome
it all, curling as it curves and falls into reality
yet once again.

For heat and fire and great desire repeat
themselves within a greater light that seeks
to simply know itself complete; burning in
an endless, cyclic repetition; speaking
ancient spells and incantations, healing with
a counter-force of every inhibition, forced
within a once-upon-a-time on minds
too young to know the difference at all.

But thundering, these crashing waves
of utter being now intone the breaking of it all;
resoundingly surreal and yet familiar too
a knowing reaching deep into the core
of every being rising now again upon
these tides of ceaseless evolutionary need;
demanding that we know the utter truth
of our own innocence,
in love again, at last...

? Michaelette ?

5/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1cupoflifedivine.html0100644000274600007660000000763207702017747014372 0ustar area51otbiz12 Cup of Life Divine

Cup of Life Divine

Oh grail, cup of life divine
How long they sought
the distant spaces
of those earthly places
for just one touch of thee
and yet within the striving
and the finding and the letting go
something sweet and gentle
composed of utter beauty
seemed lost within their time
and then an emptiness
began to fill the many
silent spaces in between
as the world of man alone
intruded yet again into
this utter mystery of love sublime

Anger raged then, like a towering storm
and they felt lost within its power
almost mad and quite insane
yet knowing they must temper this
if ever they would find a new beginning
shining out in endings of just this
the greatest quest reborn

Alone again, he sees Her form
She who held the chalice to his lips
Goddess of all life divine to him
and yet familiar too, as he dares to delve
once more into Her awesome image
of emotions beyond understanding
come to know themselves in him
but only through her cup of life divine...

? Michaelette ?

4/16/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1cupoflife.html0100644000274600007660000000665407702020737013167 0ustar area51otbiz12 Cup of Life

Cup of Life

We were best friends;
once upon a time
that is no more.

Secrets shared within the dark
somehow would reveal all answers
for our sharing was that real
heart to heart, and soul to soul
flesh on flesh, a vision told itself
with intellect no more than just
a means of reasoning.

Now loneliness creeps in
to take the place of all the love
we used to share between us
for you have fled the scene
and seek no more the dreams
that we once knew to be so true.

Other friends have come and gone
yet still the dawn finds me alone
to drink the sweetness of its
cup of life divine. I sigh, and
sunlight floods through living memories
of times gone by - no longer real
yet still somehow sublime

and I wonder why this time
this place, this empty space
no longer sings the songs
of love made real...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1dangerous.html0100644000274600007660000000736407702020147013174 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dangerous

Dangerous

Dangerous - the games you play
with other peoples hearts and souls;
using mind control and fantasy
to tempt and tease them to your lair;
telling them you care when all
you really care about is just yourself.

Dangerous - the games you play
with other peoples hearts and souls;
speaking in such tender words of love
while lashing out in lust that never
satisfied a need except your own,
yet you go on, convinced that you
are righteously enabled to live on.

Dangerous - the games you play
with other peoples hearts and souls;
bleeding them of all their vital energy
vampire-like, you feed on their vitality
and leave them hanging on to life
by just a thread of pure imagination
still uttering your loving incantations.

Dangerous - the games you play
with other peoples hearts and souls;
yet still you fear, for somewhere
deep inside of you, you know
it has its way of coming back to you
in spades and multitudes;
and so you wander, wondering
just when your misery will
come back too...

? Michaelette ?

5/12/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1darkawakening.html0100644000274600007660000005146307702013037014012 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dark Awakening

Dark Awakening

These depths seem dangerous at first;
yet still this thirst demands that we must
move beyond the deserts of the high and dry
of intellect that seeks so oft to stand alone;
seemingly composed and yet so full of fear
that its vibrations reach and touch and spread
as if a virus had become another killing plague.
All built on fear, the greatest of illusions - that
which we are still to often taught to base our
very lives upon.

They say one cause will bring just
one effect (as if it were a certainty!),
but all my life has proved itself to be
an "in between" of all the scores of every
alpha and omega that so many chose
to try to teach to me. For never has this
system of supposed great authority
been fair to me. And you see, my story
alters every prophesy that blind belief
imposes, as ever this search leads me to
so many ways to tell it all, complete.

Ordering of chaos, yes (but in what manner?);
what greater tapestry will come of all the
prejudice that still exists...? Oh people!
(you and you and you, so much like I
and she and he), please hear me now;
for somehow this one voice of mine
needs all of you to listen with intensity
and find a way (your way, my way,
our way of hearts that ever open out
between each closure) to respond.

For you see, my friends (my kin, my always,
only loving beings of equality), I have spent
five score and more of human years in time,
seeking just to understand the basics of these
heights of all awakening. Ive circled round
and round. I have been lost and ever found.
I am the gist of every mist that speaks of what
the public calls insanity. Yet I am real. (I know
you feel it too, if you are reading this right now.)

Ive studied and Ive read (and more than this,
I've understood, for there truly is a way to read
between the lines of time and space), those tomes
that universities now teach and yet beyond into
those records called Akashic; and I have found
a meaning that will live beyond those stages
of all aging intellectsl, taht are still so full
of blind dispassion.  Ive read and Ive disputed
with so many that now claim
a doctorate of understanding;
yet still I search for one (just one!), that simply
wants to come with me into this understanding
of these mysteries that unity of spirit leads me to.

One thing, within these myriads of mysteries,
stands out and in and flows throughout
these mortal forms (and this is truth unaltered
yet by any ways or means):  one word, unaltered
and forever undefined, flows through these webs
of infinite and ever living gardens that have grown
beyond all Edens and this one word,
within a language they call English
(that finds its base in ancient history),
insists it speak itself through all of us,
in every sense, right now.
This one word, of course, is LOVE.

I hear, Ive heard, so many fables told
and oh so telling (and yes, I do believe
the tellers to be true within the limitation
of their understanding be they man
or woman, or some other extraordinary
blending of these two); yet still the one and
only true appeal of what some call a merely
chemical reaction, rises to the fore when
love reveals itself to us within an intimately
private moment when we feel secure.

(Now please, my friends, allow me to explain.
I myself still seek to find one man to fill the
empty spaces that I feel inside and I am woman
yet still - oh please, you must believe! I hold no
prejudice of which I am aware, towards
friends of any aptitude that offer even just
one touch of love that lingers on!)

For I find (I found, I still believe) that friendship
must be based upon one love that ever alters
in its scope and shape and form within these
realms of time that we are hypnotized into
believing no matter gender, nor the great
supposed norms that our societies still claim
must be the meaning of all sanity. I seek,
I sought, I ever know I must still seek, for one
(just one (oh love, please do come home to me!);
and always have I known this echo of
your answer in a tone of living, moving sweet
vibrations of sensation (be they made of any
sense, and yet much more - for here within
my own completion, spirit speaks
in heavenly sensations that I know
and always knew must be the truth).

Just as the morning dew (that spreads itself
upon these populated, isolated plains of our
completion) must come forevermore to be
itself I am and I am real. I have taken
chances that the lot of some imagined polls
majority would deem no more than just stupidity;
yet somehow I am free (more free than many
rich and sanctioned human beings who
believe they rule the general population),
have ever even gleaned within
one momentary inspiration
for, oh my friends, I love! And so do you!

And so we must now come together into this
(this love that every heart redeemingly
insists we base our lives upon, and thus
the reach and breach of each decision
that we make within the ever flowing cycles
of our lives); and so, we must just learn to trust
our hearts and souls again; for now, just now,
one touch of moisture brings an ecstasy sublime
to bear upon us all (within and yet somehow
beyond all minds imagining).

While the feeling of our fear must reach beneath
(and yet beyond) our consciousness to teach us
all we need to learn; for the burning heat that seems
to fire all desire into life, has never been the type
of heat so often spoken of in those myths of hell;
where demonic images we seem to see too often
in our lives become a blind belief surpassable -
for their basis lies in love's denial. Invisible
to mortal eye, it gathers there, amassing -
particle by particle, until the too dry desert sands
seem overwhelmingly obscene to us.

Yet love, oh ever-living light of immortality -
here, just where all anger peaks and turns
into a rage that lies beneath those hardened
shields of denial - just here is where we find
the truth of who we really are and all that we
were ever meant to be. As demons tempt
and tease to please those appetites grown
weary in repeated repetition of a past of staid
and stoic attitudes.

Shall we rise or will we finally
fall yet deeper still...?
What discovery lies there, within
abysmal depths beyond emotion...?
For all that dare to reach beneath
the surface of the being that bequeaths
the sense of all sensation - the source,
the very course of all creation.

Yet too, this very reaching out
demands a coming back - departing
to return again - until we reach that
point and source, hidden within misty
dreams of every particle that we may
come to be. While time itself is held
in stasis, opening itself at last,
into eternal ecstasy.

Can you see it now...? That glowing orb!
Darkness of the moon alight
within the darkness of the night;
just where insanity takes hold
and love streams once again in truth
into reality, in renewal of an innocence
that dares to wander past the veils
of all illusion. As hauntingly, this love
will rise, in specters of that world we knew
within an innocence of youthful energy;
come alive in us yet once again.

Shall we stay stuck within those fields of
moronic repetition (or a cloning, if you will),
of emotions held in stasis by a momentary
memory of all that used to be (but is no more).
Or will we finally choose to rise into
the starlit skies...? Replete with all the
garnishments those blind beliefs can
never seem to bring into reality for us.

Oh, indigo of deepest blue, now streaming
through all soul in starlit hues, I welcome
every strain and view of this, your vast
enlightenment; for here within the darkness
of these cells, you gently come again
to entertain the mass within this ecstasy
of which love is composed in utter harmony.

And while these depths of our emotion
seem so dangerous at first; ever do they
open out into each lighter shade of blue;
glowingly, it comes to us in eyes
of sheerest fantasy again...

? Michaelette ?

6/05/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1deathbeforerebirth.html0100644000274600007660000001656107702014456015042 0ustar area51otbiz12 Death Before Rebirth

Death Before Rebirth
(albeit a life and death divine)

...The fool must die, to be reborn
within the arms of love herself...

She loves, he loves, and yet they
cannot seem to find a home
in which to meet and greet each
circumstance that comes upon them;
nor yet to meet and greet the greatest
love that ever lived.

For their stations, born of life without
a choice, decree it must be so. And oh,
the pain endured in loves survival;
most poignant when a marriage minus love
must be annulled in order for this love
to just live on.

As if true love could ever grow
within a plenitude of earthly goods;
rather than within two hearts
that beat in unison, flying past
all eyes that plead for nothing more
than just a grounded safety
of unfeeling.

But duty, be it of a son or daughter,
or eer conceived of any mother
or a father, still leads the way
in will and intellect, that never take
into consideration, this feeling
of the love of heart at all.

Were you weeping when you told
her last of your great love? He dies,
yet still has yet to meet his void; where
violent winds blow deepest seas
into the heart of him, now rising up
yet once again in misery; only to be
reborn again, within the arms
of love so true that all he is
cries out in ecstasy.

She sings a song of all substantiation,
crying out within a wind of pure
imagining. A song that those who think
themselves to be the wise and virtuous,
have never come to sing. She is the muse
of this pure flesh (oh goddess, form of
flesh divine, do not desert me now).

His mind has learned so much
of family and duty and his fate
as seen by those who steal true love
from every endless lovers heart;
that he reels in the perplexity of what
has come to be the truest venture
that reality has ever brought to be -
just there, within the heart and soul
of he, himself at last alive.

Does the dove coo in expectancy;
or could it be that once conceived,
this love of just one passing eve,
might finally know itself complete,
in the depth and height and width
of her reflection...?

And yet not sun, nor moon, nor stars
could ever feel this great awakening
of love itself. They seek us, endlessly
to thus transition and transpose, every
touch of this divinity that really feels
in every sense of its formation,
the divinity that lives and breathes
only through us. And never could an
other take the place of this true bliss.

Fight, oh fight, for all you love the best,
stands now, just there, seemingly beyond
the common sense of gross reality; reaching,
ever reaching for this commonality of
love itself. And yet these births, this utter
song of love itself we are taught that it
belongs within some other world,
miraculous and blind,
that reaches for this essence
of an ecstasy divine.

For so long, the queen looked down,
from that, her throne of solitary power.
Yet even she responds to all the rapture
of their ecstasy sublime; reaching,
in the silence of all listening, to touch
and then revolving back into herself,
within these realms invisible; where
indigo begins to speak this touch,
our touch, into an ecstasy that simply
must complete itself again.

Oh, sacrificial lamb and maiden,
lying now upon the altar of this death
of flesh transposed into the end
of all beginnings; if truly you have
ever been enhanced within your will,
and freely given any choice at all, or just
one other now, to see you through is this,
the end of love and life, what you would
would truly choose right now?

She rarely eats, she does not sleep,
for lack of him, her one true love.
What would he have her do alone,
within the face of that, such overwhelming
wealth and power; or strength of an
authority that reaches so far back
in time and history (the power of
which, still keeps een him somehow
at bay)?

Her strength is lessened, day by
endless day, for each night she pines
away for just one kiss of their almighty
bliss; so endless and yet so surreal,
denied by him een as she reels for
lack of his essential nurturance.
And so she slowly dies within
the bliss that only he was free
to offer once to her.

Just then, she tried and failed to demand
her own arising within him; for all that
he had offered her became no more
than just a fleeting wind; as the roles
he played became for him no more
than that which, even now, he chooses
to display out there, out in the world
at large, that again begins to win the
endless battle for the essence of
all love, which simply cant exist
within a world of warring opposites.

And yet, now cast aside, she shrinks
away from world and even as must be,
away from life and this eternal touch
of flesh, that once theyd lived so well.
As there, within her, every goddess weeps,
for all that keeps the world of man
from this, this love divine that shines
within, above, beyond all thought
of every deity; even as this death becomes
reborn eternally within their past
of ecstasy in momentary moments
of a life now thought divine and thus
beyond all mortal mind...

? Michaelette ?

5/6/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...a 1deathimpending.html0100644000274600007660000000646507702021141014161 0ustar area51otbiz12 Death Impending

Death Impending

Filled full with images of death
He found he felt himself no more
His fall into the void began in earnest
There was no up
There was no down
Silence, not a single sound
No light, no wind, no moistures worth
His senses overtook him then
but nothing, nothing, could amend the void

Until he moved himself from deep within
and a single flame began to burn
oh sight, how precious just to see
(or was it She that moved with him?)
yet still he was alone within his sense
of death impending
until she spoke for him again

And words began to flow
with a feeling of such deep emotion
that all he was responded
reaching out to capture
an illusive wisp upon the wind
for she had disappeared once more
while he sensed an open door
just as his newly opened eyes
began to seek in earnest...

? Michaelette ?

4/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1decisions.html0100644000274600007660000002162307702014143013156 0ustar area51otbiz12 Decisions

Decisions

These decisions, that stand so
strongly in between us now, I need
for you understand that they are
based on emotion; for emotion
is the base and strength of every
value ever lived. And yet it seems
to me that still, you cannot
grasp or understand the intimate
significance of what you really feel
and thus express to me.

You made your choices, based
on that, a strength of emotion that
ran fleetingly through you - no matter
where it came from, no matter that
you never took the time to understand
its roots. Its become no more than
yours or mine, with nothing in between,
according to divisions you so
earnestly felt you needed to make,
and these great emotions run now
through such separated veins, that
it seems as if Id never really been
with you at all; not in this way.

Where once we stood in strength of
love together; now the path is forked
and we move on, further and yet
further from each other in each
moment that now comes to pass,
and passing, passes us by too, still
moving on to yet another place
and face and space and time in
every motion of the vagrant wind.

I cant help but wonder then, what
purpose this will ever serve, this
love, this loss; the solitary mood of
your depression, that comes to me
upon the wind each time I think of you.
You seem to choose to just keep busy;
involved with any other thing you find
that does not remind you of me, or of
those moments that we shared so
intimately together for a while.

You call once in a while, you write
sporadically, yet still you really havent
one true thing to say to me, that might
address the stress you have created.
And so we do not heal, nor mend,
for you hold too much inside unmoving,
and therefore left unmoved by you.
You cling to memories of better days,
yet even the brightest of memories fade
into the distance spanning in between
what was and what will come to be; and
it still grows in increments, larger than
you seem to think exist.

I feel a vastness lying between us,
continually recreating itself these days;
a mighty void in its capacity to bleed
the meaningful from much of what
I do and say; as if some essential
element is missing from my life,
and I am slowly fading into mist.
For all that I believed, became the love
I felt for you; and you have disappeared,
as if each experience of you were now
no more than just of fantasy, created
merely of imagination.

Yet even inspiration needs a kindling
kind of fire to live on; and fuel to feed
the flames of its existence into greater
being, and youve left me barely with
an ember glowing now. This mourning
lies too heavy in the air, its hard to breathe;
much harder at those times you take
to really think of me still only in a memory
that whispers now of never really meant
to be at all. For your conviction has
evaporated, at every point where we
might meet again; except in this the feel
of grief that you still bear in this continuance
of the division your decisions brought to be...

? Michaelette ?

5/6/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1delayedreaction.com0100644000274600007660000001350607702015421014145 0ustar area51otbiz12 ]

Delayed Reaction

No matter the time or the space or the place,
the truth of our emotion must come through.
To attempt a delay may seem to save us for a day
from the truth of the pain that we carry inside;
but no matter our will, or our want, or desire,
the force of spirit burns too bright
to ever be ignored - and emotion
is the means of its expression.

A raging fire burns out of control.
An icy river raging in its course
is the only force of nature
that can stop the path of its destruction.
And there, just there -
standing still within this flow of life -
a fawn stands shaking, shivering;
nakedly, as trees are turned to ash.

Frozen toes and too, at once,
the heat of fire burning in its lungs.
Yet it knows, instinctively, this life goes on;
and a look of awe, exquisitely enlightening,
is showing in its eyes,
as its innocence becomes the mystery
of every answer in existence.

Yet back within the warp of time,
nothing seems the same as it once was.
Moments of eternity go on,
while minutes only press and stress
our system to such strange extremes,
that all we ever dreamed becomes
a faded memory
that can no longer please or tease
us back into reality at all.

And then the fall
of fear that leads
directly to denial -
and the minutes are delayed
as we stand frozen in the icy stream,
while heat releases reams of memories
within a killing rage of agony unspeakable;
that feels itself again, so startling real -
yet like the doe, finds innocence again -
just there, within the center of the stream.

If we follow blindly then
well find our instincts turn it all
into the angel wings that take us home;
as soul becomes each particle
responding, passion rising into
loving streams of joy we ride -
flying high above the winds of time...

? Michaelette ?

3/21/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1delayedreaction.html0100644000274600007660000001334007702015416014333 0ustar area51otbiz12 ]

Delayed Reaction

No matter the time or the space or the place,
the truth of our emotion must come through.
To attempt a delay may seem to save us for a day
from the truth of the pain that we carry inside;
but no matter our will, or our want, or desire,
the force of spirit burns too bright
to ever be ignored - and emotion
is the means of its expression.

A raging fire burns out of control.
An icy river raging in its course
is the only force of nature
that can stop the path of its destruction.
And there, just there -
standing still within this flow of life -
a fawn stands shaking, shivering;
nakedly, as trees are turned to ash.

Frozen toes and too, at once,
the heat of fire burning in its lungs.
Yet it knows, instinctively, this life goes on;
and a look of awe, exquisitely enlightening,
is showing in its eyes,
as its innocence becomes the mystery
of every answer in existence.

Yet back within the warp of time,
nothing seems the same as it once was.
Moments of eternity go on,
while minutes only press and stress
our system to such strange extremes,
that all we ever dreamed becomes
a faded memory
that can no longer please or tease
us back into reality at all.

And then the fall
of fear that leads
directly to denial -
and the minutes are delayed
as we stand frozen in the icy stream,
while heat releases reams of memories
within a killing rage of agony unspeakable;
that feels itself again, so startling real -
yet like the doe, finds innocence again -
just there, within the center of the stream.

If we follow blindly then
well find our instincts turn it all
into the angel wings that take us home;
as soul becomes each particle
responding, passion rising into
loving streams of joy we ride -
flying high above the winds of time...

? Michaelette ?

3/21/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1disappearance.html0100644000274600007660000001353707702015341014003 0ustar area51otbiz12 Disappearance

Disappearance

A hush falls oer the drunken multitude
as if some spirit stole within the room unasked.
Unequaled, this one moment of pure silence.
Smoke rises, soon to disappear,
as cigarettes are left to just burn out
Man and woman stop and stare
become as if suspended
in a breath of freshest air.

One alone sits quietly within a booth,
hidden in a darkened corner,
warming hands around
a cup of steaming coffee.
He just observes this great phenomenon,
unfolding once again within his presence.
He is the only one who seems to see
the brilliance of the angel
that just entered in.

Light of light, oh sphere
outdistancing the distance
soberly, he writes himself a note,
beyond all thinking:
"The moment is now, the time has arrived."
He watches as the veil is lifted then,
waiting as this startling form
of clarity begins to build.
He know beyond a doubt
that this vision is the truth.
He feels it too, in startled recognition,
somewhere deep inside, as if a quivering
of strings upon a lyre were stirring them.

Movement returns, time runs
ahead of itself again.
Someone drops coins in the juke box.
An old love song begins to play
and he remembers, even as he moves
ahead again into the vastness of all future,
what it was to be held and loved completely;
nurtured in the strength of his mothers nature,
lying against the softness of her breast -
healed so completely by her touch.

He remembers now, too, for he must,
each time his wife, his one true love,
who passed away last year
brought to him the healing of her spirit
within her tender touch -
and there she stands
the angels form completed
and substantial.

He puts his coat on then and pays his tab,
walks out into the soft of night with her
and simply disappears...

? Michaelette ?

4/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1dissolution.html0100644000274600007660000001222707702016045013555 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dissolution

Dissolution

The triangles are dissolving
as that geodesic dome
turns back into mere particles;
unconnected, floating free,
back to a misty fantasy
that never will be real.

Morose, he entered back into
the world that he once knew
choosing just to follow,
and thus avoid the pangs
that leadership will bring.

Vaguely drifting through the days
that used to be his life,
he focused once again
upon the mediocre course
of productivity.

So apt was he at his denial
that rarely did he feel the pain
that came of losing all the love
that he had left behind.

Blindly, day turned into night
and back into another day
just like the one before;
no highs, no lows, no sense
or een sensation of extremity.

Wondering, but only distantly,
just why at times his heart beat
painfully within his chest; but
having chosen what the others
thought as best, his focus narrowed,
more and more, as if a silent door
were closing, imprisoning his soul.

Denying all the longing
of that spirit so encased
within the tedium of every day;
passing out at night in pure
exhaustion, never rest,
for all the best of him was left
somewhere in between the pain
that he so stoically denied.

Then numbness was the very best
he could achieve; smashing every
fantasy to bits dissolving then,
that geodesic form hed once
created in a state of ecstasy,
and settling for nothing much at all...

? Michaelette ?

5/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1divinechild.html0100644000274600007660000000412507702024120013452 0ustar area51otbiz12 Divine Child

Divine Child

Child divine, awaken within me.
Play with me your ever-living
games of fantasy.

Seek and find, this night
an answer to all mystery.
Let love flow free and easy
as a summer breeze again.

Oh, gentle child, centered
in a flower delicate,
divinely open once again
and free this heart divine...

? Michaelette ?

4/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1divinityofearth.html0100644000274600007660000000550207702022250014402 0ustar area51otbiz12 Divinity of Earth

Divinity of Earth

Systems crashing far and near
The new millennium is here
It is not of mind or make-believe
Passion rises all around
Emotions ride the tides of earth and air
For the earth is now aware of what you do
and will not take your disrespect
upon herself again

She rises to a higher power herself
to take her throne within
the heaven she created
to rule as man has never ruled before
of heart and mind and body, soul
complete

Demanding now, Her own equality
where wisdom speaks
of all emotion
raised now to the highest
power of all...

? Michaelette ?

4/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .
  1divinityoflight.html0100644000274600007660000000727607702020257014425 0ustar area51otbiz12 Divinity of Light

Divinity of Light

Oh great Apollo, fiery warmth of light,
your rays of pure delight
run up and down my spine
now tingling in a flight divine.

Sweet sorrowful longing of all indigo,
the stars of the night unfold within thee,
even as your springs of warmth
meld and blossom into all we see.

Darkness abides at times
in a lowering power of weighty clouds;
so full of emotion they thunder in
lightning striking down on innocence.

Yet there, the oak once shattered
by gusts upon a stormy might
puts forth again your truth, in pride
of every branching youth reborn.

Still longing for your touch divine,
reborn within your fiery light;
mind of ancient, ever now
reaching into skylit blue.

Too distant to touch, yet you stream
right through every particle of flesh;
enlightening what once could only dream,
now feeling all the warmth of your reality.

Allowing now, this opening of pores and eyes,
I see you dancing through the skies of day
and night becomes again this dream
of your awakening...

? Michaelette ?

4/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1doublehelixofdeliverance.html0100644000274600007660000000570307702022004016225 0ustar area51otbiz12 Double Helix of Deliverance

Double Helix of Deliverance

Dante at last comes to meet the Anthropos.
Mestopholes himself withdraws into the underworld,
observing and expecting to enjoy the show.

Incarnate now, the god must face himself
alone within the ancient halls of his denial;
seeking yet for heavens gates
that lie within a realm of feminine composure.

He finds instead this paradise of earth
consumed and thus consuming all
that lies just at the core of lifes existence;
and thus the three must add a fourth
to find totality.

To bear upon the course so often thought
to be created merely of the masculine;
daunted now, this Dante spins
into the double helix of deliverance
lying in the heart that beats itself
as daemons play a harmony
of all that is for him...

? Michaelette ?

4/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1dreamofdreams.html0100644000274600007660000000654107702021073014011 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dream of Dreams

Dream of Dreams

Are they angels then?
Souls that without flesh
have found a way to fly
into these loving skies
composed of dreamlike fantasy.

Reflection of reflections
door of ever opening
come to me, oh winged dream of night
enhance my life with
a touch of rapture found
in your essential presence.

Unrepressed and unredeemed,
great hope of love that lives forever,
rise in me yet once again
that I may feel the jubilance
and glory of this springtime singing.

Let me know it as each particle
of flesh fills up with pure delight
heated and so softly pulsing
ringingly into the atmosphere;
rising and then falling, peaking
calling tenderly in ecstasy.

Let my heart fly on your wings
into unuttered realms of salient blue
and let it all be true
this dream of dreams...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1dreamoftime.html0100644000274600007660000000633707702021315013476 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dream of Time

Dream of Time

The dream of time runs on
within a rush of linear power
straight and swift, its mighty
death approaches, gently hidden
in the many things we touch and see.

Can you feel it now? So light, it treads,
it trembles in a waiting grasp, a gasp.
Yet death is when forever opens out
into the silence of all ears
that never really heard at all
while still alive, within that
linearity of time.

Where cycles burst their boundaries
and angels sing ecstatically
in a stillness of mute harmony;
even now, when only one alone
makes the choice to simply listen.
Spiraling, this sphere of living light
abides in symmetry.

Yet within mortal minds,
that dream of time runs on,
illusion of a devastating stress;
while sun and moon remain unmoved
within this moment of eternity...

? Michaelette ?

5/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1dreamsoflullabies.html0100644000274600007660000000736207702020150014672 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dreams of Lullabies

Dreams of Lullabies

There is something in your touch
that I have never felt before -
a warmth of love unbiased by all else,
tingling as it heats the chill away
to keep my troubled mind at bay;
and a melody then enters in
to play these strings of heart
right through it all
unaltered by the spans
of times eternity.

Mistily, I spy a shadowed form
rising up above the everyday,
glowing with an aura seeming supernatural -
when suddenly, your lips are touching mine,
giving and receiving, one unto the other;
entering, receding, beating rhythms so sublime
that any thought of time must simply cease -
while a span of ages plays a lullaby.

Then sleepily, love seeds
the dreams of our tomorrows
as liltingly, an oh-so-gentle voice is heard to sing
enchantingly of other realms of being,
where all we are becomes what we are meant to be;
spiraling through rounds of universal empathy,
as we see and hear and scent and taste
the feelings that have always proven true -
growing now through you and I
as we sleep the dreams of lullabies anew . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/06/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1drewitself.html0100644000274600007660000000601307702021657013352 0ustar area51otbiz12 Drew Itself

Drew Itself

Centered in a drop of dew
one particle of light refused to die
and it drew itself within itself again
one-pointedly leaving the wave it had spun
as ultimately, closure and resistance came
to find an ever present opening expanding.

One particle is dropped without a clue
into the ocean of infinity itself,
reveling in every new experience,
immersed and thus immersing mystery -
discovering the vastness of its being;
all because it dared explore what was
unknown to it before.

While waiting in a shaking reverie -
oh, feeling of this love thats meant to be,
awakening from silent slumber
to become the definition
of the ultimate of destiny,
hidden all the while within
one particle that dared to spin
and drew itself into itself again . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1driftalive.html0100644000274600007660000000551607702022210013324 0ustar area51otbiz12 Drift Alive

Drift Alive

Prosaic fantasy,
unaltered by our wish or will
instills our nights and days
with stark, unchanging emptiness
as habit makes our every move the same
mere players in a game
we never reallyhad to play at all.

Hearts beat in silent wondering
listening to shadows speak
of all that spirit holds
within these days of night unfolding;
waiting in the shadows
to behold the light of day,
dreaming peacefully of our arrival;
rising as it falls within a moodiness untold.

Feeling every little thing that we refuse to see
touching an eternity of dreams half spun
waiting - for each of us to raise the call
and drift alive, into a dream come true . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1driftaway.html0100644000274600007660000000613307702021526013172 0ustar area51otbiz12 Drift Away

Drift Away

Starlight streams into his eyes
reflecting more than light alone
could ever hope to be;
for it enters him completely now
freeing heart and soul
to love again.

The heart strains to redeem itself
again within one form that moves
past the many stresses, pressing
past the form a mortal system
could eer hope withstand alone;
yet it seeks a hold within itself
like pent-up music, waiting to be played
or lyrics sung with all the meaning
a voice of pure expression
brings to be.

The rain has passed
Oh, dark and heavy clouds
you tremble now - lightly
through the brightening sky of blue
passing with this passing breeze of time.

I wonder when this my heart of mine
will drift away in love with life again...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1driftingbackintime.html0100644000274600007660000002353607702014000015030 0ustar area51otbiz12 Drifting Back in Time

Drifting Back in Time

I feel myself drifting back in time
to days of innocence that seemed
as if that world of ever-dreams
would never end.

And I find myself now wondering
if in truth, it ever really ended as it seemed;
for the child inside still cries in pure frustration
and seeks yet for an answer,
when the question hasnt quite appeared
searching for a clarity that must command
all answers to be found beyond
the sound of reprimand.

And I feel my soul arising
in a spirit that cant be denied.
For I know this writing
streams within my veins,
insisting on expression
in these words of seeming solitude,
that speak in moods of vast emotion;
reaching out to grasp the way,
as interactions move and swirl and sway,
connecting all we say and do
to all that seems most other than ourselves.

Mind drifting then again
to a moment undeniably complete
within one memory that
speaks itself again out loud,
when the sound of one small bird began
this quest that never seems to end
at a time when nine seemed juvenile,
yet spoke in volumes of the wilds
of soul in all its glory.

Twas a sleepy day of heat, and I in school,
bored by what the teacher
tried to tell us was the truth
seeing, even then, the variations left unspoken
in multitudes of angles
opening out within my mind.
When, schoolroom windows opened wide,
I drifted on a tide of spring
about to bring the summer into being.

And all that I was taught was real
faded in a sense of ultimate,
unaltered clarity -
one-pointed in its purpose -
yet in multi-flavored
hues of natures song,
compelling me to come along
and glide within its currents of pure air.

When just outside the open window pane,
almost hidden in the leaves of springtime green,
within a bush, one tiny bird began to sing,
leading me to realms beyond belief;
and teaching me, within its sound
how rounds of inspiration came to play
within the light of day and me.

For you see, just then I knew, beyond a doubt,
the meaning of the trills that sent
my youthful spirit wondering through
an alternate reality of gratitude,
where beauty played itself alive
so naturally, a sunlit sigh
escaped itself and entered into me.

And this meaning still is singing
understanding through my life.
Even now, in words of poetry
that merely float into the flight
of fingertips that type.

For mind is drifting back in time
gathering the errant threads,
to complete another picture
in this tapestry of life
within these words that finally utter
the true magnificence that can be found
within the height and depth
of each experience.

And I will never forget the enlivening feel
of becoming a bird through the tone of its trill
while still I seek, I need, I want
no more than that all others understand
the symmetry of our connectedness
within the vast effects that stream
within each tone now uttering
itself through every living thing
and us . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/23/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1driveit.html0100644000274600007660000000470207702023302012640 0ustar area51otbiz12 Drive It

Drive It

So easy it seems
to drive it all home
within a tunnel focus narrowed
into a beam that only speaks
of time that ends itself
in moments composed
of no more than the just this:
the fantasy of all departure

and yet your return
can become no more
than an illusion of pain
all loss, and no gain
for you believe
in money over love
while love itself
must be and is
the crux of all reality...

? Michaelette ?

3/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1dynamicpatterns.html0100644000274600007660000001147707702016400014407 0ustar area51otbiz12 Dynamic Patterns

Dynamic Patterns

Dynamic patterns,
so much more than personal
and yet the universe demands
an explanation of these realms
of the most intimate of all -
where emotion speaks in whispers
of its moments of pure ecstasy.

Past left behind,
the primal now arising yet again,
refusing to be quelled or understood;
just as the whispers of the wind increase.
beating in a rhythm
that we simply cant deny;
for the rivers of our being
run beyond our sight or seeing,
stemming from the source
of the creation of it all.

One spark, a great explosion.
Could this truly be the only explanation
for the meaning and the worth
of all our lives?
We must come to know
and understand somehow -
unuttered centuries that live
beyond all space or time
and the heat within this primal beat,
or else we shall remain encased
within a feeling of depression.

Each cell confronted with disease
is seeking for the means
of this expression.
Here, just at the point
where the reports of our sensation
seem to alter.

As another new, and yet
enchanting pattern enters in
to this complexity that utters,
in moans and groans and sweetest sighs,
yet doesnt seem to understand
the gist or deeper meaning
of the feelings these dynamic patterns
bring into play with all we are again...

? Michaelette ?

3/13/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1eachcell.html0100644000274600007660000001047007702017251012737 0ustar area51otbiz12 Each Cell

Each Cell

Mind is whirling within
a dervish of delight;
cells come alive
that never knew
the light of life before;
and a trillion more wait in the wings,
desiring their turn to sing
the fire and desire of love
back into our lives again.

Chaotically, soul seeks to speak
a wisdom known in times of yore,
before the paradigm of time
and space became the base
that knows only the multiples
of base division in a mental consternation;
even as the Net of Indra shines
directly once again
into the webs we know as mortal time.

Revealing, the vastness
of this altering within connection,
as distance comes to be no more
than just a theme that has grown old;
and tales of yore come to the fore
within a magic incantation,
uttered by a host of mediums
that speak the truth that lies
beyond all mortal spans of time.

Magically, these secret mysteries
repeat themselves within a unity
that simply must accept all variation;
for the story of creation must go on
as all mind begins to whirl
in an astonishing delight,
at last come home to dwell within
the center of each cell that spins
itself into a life that never ends . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/1/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1eachother.html0100644000274600007660000000534007702022457013145 0ustar area51otbiz12 Each Other

Each Other

We know and love
and thus have known and loved
each other in an infinite expanse.
Yet still the meaning grows,
for still, we come and go
in altered states of consciousness
and thus in varied points of view.
Yet we must understand this much:
that the facets of a single point
will always be unending

So we cannot and we must not,
allow these changing points of view,
to consume or be consumed within an other.
For our task is greater still -
to somehow comprehend a greater view
even now expressed
by the unaltered wisdom of this flesh
that comes together, yet again,
in love...

? Michaelette ?

3/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1echoofeverything.html0100644000274600007660000000545007702022323014545 0ustar area51otbiz12 Echo of Everything

Echo of Everything

Echo, echo, right or wrong -
which song will play tonight...?
Upon these waves through brains
and on into another composition.

Tired, so tired;
the war unravels us,
each side retreating
to the warmth of home.

Where lovers underlie
the sense of all sensation
and procreation must become
our one and only love.

As this symphony of life
at last enhanced, begins to dance;
sparkling in an energic amplitude
that flies beyond the mood of every day.

Echo, echo - right or wrong
the only song worth singing
lies within one tone of harmony,
accepting everything for what it is . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1electronictransmissions.html0100644000274600007660000001471307702015046016167 0ustar area51otbiz12 Electronic Transmissions

Electronic Transmissions

Electrically dispatched oer waves
and wires so astutely conceived
to be the shallowness of modern day
communication; enticing an awareness
of the power of the written word
within a sometimes sense
without the true sensation
of reality.

Angelically, this healing, so real,
descended in a feel of intuition; all within
the feel of an emotion still too oft
regarded as a momentary fantasy
(for isnt every fantasy just this and
nothing more?) Yet oh, the more, so
sweetly does its heat rise in our flesh.

Pictures flash, across a monitor thats
seldom monitored at all; for this modern
school we live to learn, discarded all
such stuff, that lives on still in an
ambivalence of the power of old authority;
yet ancient, and so anxiously, anticipation
builds within itself, within a growth
of sight and sound thats not quite heard
or seen, yet clearly felt
and written in those words,
just there between the black and white,
while we find that we must ask
ourselves again, are they the truth?

Does your spirit resound through
the sight of their sound, or is it really
just a tingling of flesh, too oft unmet
in loving ways? And when you reach
to touch it all, does that fire-dried glass
of your own monitor, really answer
as another human touch is known to
do within the fullness of an amplitude
that only love of all reality can bring?

Minds expand, connections seem to be
unlimited, for the information shared
is freely given. Yet is it truth or just
another fairy tale in the making? (Trailing
somehow, far behind the evolution
of all heart, this heart, one heart
that loves eternally for thee.)

And if this distance of our flesh
can be proved to be untrue,
then tell me, love,
what is it you propose to do,
to make it real?

Too many questions, still unanswered,
lie between the here and there
of our reunion in this flesh, no matter
electronically induced hallucinations,
for pure presence speaks in tones
that simply cannot be denied,
not any more...

? Michaelette ?

5/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1emotionalintensity.html0100644000274600007660000001636607702014512015144 0ustar area51otbiz12 Emotional Intensity

Emotional Intensity

Just past the feel
of this emotional intensity,
lie fields of spring
awaiting patiently the growth
of seeds that cant help
but conceive themselves;
within a state that speaks
into a purity of form,
unfolding and enfolding sound
as silence of a voice unformed
begins to build into an utterance divine;
breathing in the clarity of air,
expanding and contracting as it seeks
all that it needs to just go on.

Reach out and touch.
I know that you can hear it too -
this plea of future calling out,
resounding through the atmosphere.
For we breathe into
a sense of form unbound,
reaching and receiving life in form
surrounded and surrounding
the sensation of the incubation
of this life that sings itself
into beginning yet again.

Can you hear it now . . . ?
the scent of green and growing
grass that longs to sway and bend
within a summer breeze;
and then the sound of mystery,
as hues of summer cool themselves
amid a repetition,in this grand
awakening of growth
within the evolution of it all.

Seeking for the past in variation,
ever new yet ever quite the same,
sung within harmonious refrain;
een now as winter seems to beat
unending waves of cold into this heat
that simply cant be turned into
the icy cold that blows a chill of
wandering into our sleep or dreams.

And then the dream expounds itself,
uttering within its sleep
of all that we are meant to be,
beyond the bounds of all society
or blind and ordered hierarchies of family;
that need to free themselves to come alive
into this dream-like state of fantasy
where love abides.

And oceans of emotion play
an endless game of composition,
positioning themselves yet once again;
as particle by particle, the world spins
itself into a state so new
an ancient reverie unfolds,
for time and space reverse into
a tone of preconceived deliverance.

Within the beat of hearts that hold
this love within the inner worlds
of heart at last unfurled,
composing yet another theme
within this realm of composition;
now beheld as mists that swirl
in an ocean of emotional intensity
and in their movement
must complete it all . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1emotiveenergy.html0100644000274600007660000002134707702014165014067 0ustar area51otbiz12 Emotive Energy

Emotive Energy

And here we are again,
lost in our meandering,
within the labyrinths
of this vast emotive energy.

(Dark, the flesh of all that truly matters -
growing within fields of innocence)

Relax, renew, within this realm
of vast unconsciousness;
for the show has just begun, my friend,
and all that was, must end
before beginning once again
to shine itself into infinity.

(Deep, the indigo of darkest night
as moon and stars become the light
of gently everlasting feelings)

Rivers flow, each drop
a glowing realm of mystery
that moves itself in endless sacristy,
within the light of moonbeams' luster;
undeniably complete within
the essence it expends.

(Oh essence, come to be again in me
as I accept this destiny of my mortality)

Take me back into the future rising
where oceanic waves of being
wash upon the shores of evermore;
as magic plays its way again into our lives,
completely satiated in this flesh we are.

(Oh being, speak to me beyond
the realms of this complexity again)

Simple now, the rhythm of a life,
before the thought of strife
begins to enter in.
And oh, the tone of love that sings
beneath these wings so oft denied
your currents of pure air.

(Fly, oh fly, beyond these
patterned skies, oh soul of mine)

Succulent, this tone of utter being,
magnetizing as a mind is mesmerized
into one slow, sweet breath of air,
that always dares to enter in
into these realms of all deliverance.

(Deliver us, oh breath that sings
so sweetly through these days and nights,
becoming all the right of wrongs extremity)

As love, unuttered in its lack of mortal definition
seeds itself within this realm of our sensation,
bridging chasms seemingly so deep, that
an abyss of unknowingness begins to seep
into a will that intellect alone created.

(Once upon a time
this spirit of all life
flew freely forth)

Emotion, so invisibly enhancing,
touches still just at that point
where every cell of living flesh
is centered in itself;
while sensation speaks
the words of every peak and valley
ever known within an exploration.

(Flow, oh mighty world composed
of every earthen form; where all that is
becomes itself again)

Wisdom dwells
within the center of each particle
of every form thats ever come to be.
And now, we must begin to see -
and more than see, to feel
the amplitude of this reunion.

(Heart, oh heart that beats so endlessly,
accept this flesh become at last
your immortality)

For this reality holds meaning
long forgotten in the mists
of history too dry to speak itself;
while we find ourselves
just where we are again -
lost in our meandering
through fluid fields, unending
awash within emotive energy . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/1/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1endofarelationship.html0100644000274600007660000001500407702015026015051 0ustar area51otbiz12 End of a Relationship

End of a Relationship

And so these tears,
and remnants of the joy and pain
that we experienced together,
are truly all thats left.
Memories that never can achieve
a state of this reality at all -
not any more.

Why is it now
that death seems a deliverance,
when looking from this point of pain
that you have left me to endure alone?

Consciously, you took from me,
the love you promised for eternity.
Yet I dare not agonize -
not any more -
for you chose to walk
right through that door
to neer return again.

You've taxed my reserves
almost beyond the point of reparation.
Yet somehow still, you justify
the cruelty of these, your chosen lies,
by trying to enclose yourself
within the greater systems once again.

Yet I know, deep down inside,
that this will never do -
not for you, not eer again -
no matter your avoidance
of this pain that youve created.
For this pain is yours
and I refuse to take it on ever again.

The pain of all the fear and anger
that you yet refuse to come to know,
and therefore just cant rise above at all;
no matter all the highs you sought
and still you seek as a means of your relief.

When the love we used to share
could have filled more than the universe.
But you have chosen otherwise,
and so for you, this love was never true.
I find I must refuse to ever travel
there with you again.

For love abides
beyond all tides of right or wrong,
and the only suffering found
is its denial.

I love, I loved, and still I love
for I cannot veer again
from this path that I must walk.
Yet this love can never be of one alone,
within a sense of preservation,
or worse, as if an ownership is spun
rather than an inclination
to keep it growing, moving on,
as it rises from the deep
of all we are.

And so I choose my course again,
to seeking this love, and ever more
to be alive in this reality...

? Michaelette ?

3/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1enoughtosaygoodbye.html0100644000274600007660000001035007702017345015116 0ustar area51otbiz12 Enough to Say Good-Bye

Enough to Say Goodbye

He sauntered in on his Palomino,
so charming when he chose to be;
laying on that sweet old Southern charm -
wearing it so practiced and so well,
assuring her time and again,
that everything would be all right.

She sees now, that was her mistake -
to think his ways could ever be her own.
For it was nothing but a pose for him
to cover over all the stress
and lack of hope
he really felt inside.

He had a silver dragon too
but he never let it fly,
and therefore couldnt join her there
within the starry skies.
Nor would he ever be content
to see her soar without him.

For no matter how she coaxed or pleased,
he refused to spread his wings and fly.
So now her door is closed
and locked to him.
She knew that she could never win
the many battles that he fought inside.

White stallions rise now, in her mind,
purposeful and proud -
code of honor evident
in every flowing motion.
And this is what she truly needs
to speed her through recovery.
For her wings were somehow
broken in his grasp.

She loved, she loved, and still she loves.
For she loves herself enough
to say good-bye...

? Michaelette ?

3/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1erstwhiletwin.html0100644000274600007660000000622707702021422014107 0ustar area51otbiz12 Erstwhile Twin

Erstwhile Twin

Illusive mystery of lifes illusions
bring to me a clarity of vision
never known to live within
the light of too-bright days.

Ah, but night is falling deep
within this heart of mine tonight,
speaking all the truth I never
ever wanted to behold before.

Yet one by one, the doors are flung
wide open to the wisdom of all intuition,
and I know right to the core of me
that I am seeing true.

One last jolt of pain and then the flame
begins to burn in ever-bright of fascination
taking me back to a space beyond place
just where Ive always loved to be.

Flying free upon the winds
where clouds escort
the erstwhile twin of my affection
back into my loving arms again...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1eternalflame1.html0100644000274600007660000000507607702023057013726 0ustar area51otbiz12 Eternal Flame

Eternal Flame

Eternal flame of heart divine;
feel of endless bliss found only
in the kiss of love itself.
Drifting in the only true reality,
where hearts expand
and hands touch hands
within a gentle empathy of being.

Eternal flame of heart divine,
shine in love of flesh sublime,
at the deepest levels of creation,
to the core of every particle.
Enter this reality
of form and multiplicity,
and then, within your harmony,
create another symphony divine.

? Michaelette ?

4/9/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1eternalflame.html0100644000274600007660000000351007702024405013632 0ustar area51otbiz12 Eternal Flame

Eternal Flame

Eternal flame of love
burn bright in me
for all that I have come to see,
becomes yet more and more
an understanding of the need
for more of thee.
Flame of love that
burns eternally...

? Michaelette ?

3/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1everbeen.html0100644000274600007660000001204107702016215012765 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ever Been

Ever Been

Will you ever wake to feel the real
just waiting there for you beyond
the gross reality prescribed
by generations lost to all the
suffering of their own making?

I reel within your dizziness
composed of intellectual, unfeeling
understanding of those lives
that die without demanding
an answer to it all.
Particle or wave...?
To love or to conceal...?
Tell me now, whats really
real at all...?

Right here upon the border
of an everything that speaks
in words that simply cannot
be ignored not any more.

For it contains such utter truth -
these emotions lying in between
communication at such depth;
still unfound within the lives
that were supposed to live
in freedom of expression.

But you have chosen and you will
your mind and heart to close again
to live without a power that
masses see as just pretend
while all the while, this pretense cuts
your heart and soul apart.

Shall I seek again to understand
your massacre of heart...?
I think, therefore I am no more
than intellectual confusion;
a science seeking for belief
that leads to mere illusion.

Did you think my soul
would ever let me go so far as that...?
back into no more than mass
of movement never understood
when here, right now
I know the truth I am;
yet I now wonder if youve
ever been at all...

? Michaelette ?

5/2/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1everborn.html0100644000274600007660000000437207702023646013032 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ever Born

Ever Born

Ancient wisdom, ever born anew.
Light in gentle, radiating
spheres of energy.
Intuition born at last within.
As heart and soul and body
come at last to understand
each separation and division
of a mind that now expands;
Through these sweet sensations
of totality that only love can bring;
wishing, willing, in its deep desire
that all the best of everything
just come to be the crux
of all reality, now known...

? Michaelette ?

5/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1eyesunveiled.html0100644000274600007660000000536607702022434013707 0ustar area51otbiz12 Eyes Unveiled

Eyes Unveiled

Ghostly images enhance the atmosphere
speaking in desire for a life complete in form.
Ancestral, the beginning of all innocence.
Yet now, those seeds of innocence
have come to live in us.

No mother and no father
yet somehow both at once
striving to get past the opposition
of the very battle stance
so often held.

Each time we reach,
a memory repeats;
sometimes sweet
but sometimes merely raging pain,
and we wonder where the rain comes from
as teardrops fall from our own eyes.

When in just a glance, we start to see again
ghostly images of past to future forming
in eyes unveiled to eternity...

? Michaelette ?

4/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1fadingstrength.htm0100644000274600007660000000455607702023455014045 0ustar area51otbiz12 Fading Strength

Fading Strength

The strength of your love is fading;
as if lost within a distance
of eternal memory,
more and more enfolded in a past
that seems can never come to be again.

While spring, in all
the essence of pure growth,
calls out again to rise
and take a stand.
Why didn't you...?

You, who swore to make
our dreams into reality.
Instead, you choose
to sadly feel
the strength of our love
fading all away...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1fallingallapart.html0100644000274600007660000001370207702015307014335 0ustar area51otbiz12 Falling All Apart

Falling All Apart

Irritation, aggravation -
systems falling all apart,
within chaotic swells of our emotion.
Yet still, we speak of ordered sanity
Even when we know so well the feel
of every great sensation
swelling like the ocean's tides,
speaking in a foreign language
from somewhere deep inside.

Listlessly, we drift through days
of peakedly unanimated recitation;
believing we must never tell the world
of all the anger dwelling deep within.
Seeing red in lightning flashes;
seeking now to splash a color
back into these lives become so drab.

We think, we ought, we must , we are
no more than what we will into belief.
And yet our souls seek base relief
within the darkness of our nights of sleep;
dreaming into realms we used to know
back in ages so long past
that short-termed memory
can see no more.

Yet still we feel, in growing increments,
unstructured moments we have spent
adrift within the realm of future calling.
Where every vivid color dwells,
moving in great swells of mist,
awaiting a deliverance
into this time, this space, this realm
we call reality.

And listen! Can you hear the tone
of its deliverance . . . ?
Whispering yet one more theme
before the dreams are broken into bits
by an alarm that we ourselves have set.
Like sirens screaming, shockingly,
within a state weve come
to know as merely wide awake.

Here numbness takes over,
while under the cover of masks
(where we hide to just survive),
lie moods idealistically impeded,
longing just to speak of meaning
once valued in resplendent tones,
for emotion colors everything we are.

As this feeling of deep irritation
in these systems ever falling all apart,
rises to the fore of an expressive attitude
to speak of moods now unacceptable;
insisting on deliverance right now . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1fallingdeeply.html0100644000274600007660000001740607702014357014030 0ustar area51otbiz12 Falling Deeply

Falling Deeply

Hail, virgin mother of us all
we sleep the deep of your virginity.
Passion sacrificed upon
the altar of your blessedness,
where the numbness beyond pain
makes up for everything
we dare not feel.

The walls are closing in;
his breath becomes no more
than just a gasp of not enough;
alone, he wanders through
the labyrinthine depths
of his own being.

Hot and steamy mists of ice
evaporating off the moving walls
come again in sleep to call to him,
even as the chill of intellect begins
to fall again into its flesh of form.

Passion turned to impotence,
as voices rang in a cacophony of noise
repeating every rule hed learned
before, as his brain was washed
into the habits of a past that never
dreamed of changing into futures call.

Sinking deep, the tunnel seemed
to slightly open out a breath, one
breath of fresher air was won; just
as he succumbed and settled for
the feel of a dizziness that only lack
of oxygen can bring.

His trophies, honed of glass, encased
in gold, shattered as he passed them by;
trying once again to feel another sense
of their elation on arrival; alas, the
shattered pieces fell yet deeper down,
blood running free within those particles
that now imploded into him.

The anger of his potency was somewhere
lost along the way; melting into those
whose games he played. The sorrow
that once seemed to overwhelm had turned
itself into a sense of pure and utter terror there,
just where the tunnel opened out into a vast,
a void of dark and solemn caverns held within.

The blame, the guilt, the shame
hauntingly, the specters rose and fell,
embellishing that sense of loneliness
hed never dared to face before.
How quickly forever can turn
into never at all.

Spaceless, placeless, timelessness;
it seemed this emptiness must be
the gist of his forever, within
this watery womb of shadows,
feeling himself lost. Oh how the
path of peace that death induces,
would be welcomed then by him.

Yet death was never meant to be at all;
just this, this fall into the womb of all
rebirth; where quality and worth
that once seemed just imagination,
proved themselves to be the greater
meaning of it all.

For there within the very center
of this cavern that just seemed to be
a never-ending darkness to his eyes,
a light appeared
so real and yet so beautiful, he simply
had to pause; as all his fear just
disappeared, and the angel beckoned
once again, for him to just draw near...

? Michaelette ?

5/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1feelofreality.html0100644000274600007660000000733307702020212014024 0ustar area51otbiz12 Feel of Reality

Feel of Reality

The feel of magic once again begins
to blend itself into the known of our reality;
redeemingly inviting death to up and take a hike
as we strike out for another chord of harmony,
seeding fields of ecstasys eternity
into a life, at first no more
than dreamlike qualities of sleep.

And so the future eases
seeds of dreams to grow again
even as we move through rainy days
of springtime glory oozing sensuality
right back into the atmosphere
we choose to live and breathe.

All in a concentrated effort to become
a totality refocusing itself -
somehow becoming all the unity
of ecstasy that it beholds
never giving or receiving, no,
yet alive within all loves consistency.
Ever and always living the feel
of love's consistency made real.

Within a sense of true eternity,
beating and repeating rhythmically,
through these lives of endless time
that weve only just begun to know
as streams of loving energy
that feel themselves eternally
into reality . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1fireburns.html0100644000274600007660000000755707702020024013202 0ustar area51otbiz12 Fire Burns

Fire Burns

Fire burns, the heat is on -
passion rising, senses singing,
misty light is ringing round the moon;
and yet the night is cool and moist,
giving heat the chance to cool
into a glowing, growing sphere
that speaks of all that we hold dear.

Flesh alive, each particle is tingling,
not quite knowing what to do
to satiate its need;
and so it feeds upon itself
in cyclic flows that stream
the dreams of life into eternity.

Smoldering embers breathe in depths of air,
as mistily, the fog sinks down into the ground
readying itself to rise and flow again
into those hazy droughts of air, imbibing
of an early morning atmospheric wealth,
that rises in a sense of stealth
just as the night sinks down.

While the moisture still surrounding me
keeps me safe from all the heated strife
and stress of others ways of life,
leading me yet further on
into these realms unaltered
and unuttered as of yet,
as fire burns and moisture quells
the many wells where buried voices dwell;
arising with the wind again
to speak in splendor of eternity . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1fireoflife.html0100644000274600007660000000705007702020524013306 0ustar area51otbiz12 Fire of Life

Fire of Life

Consuming fire of life divine,
how is that you find your way to me . . . ?
Let me go, just set me free.
Oh, cant you see
I need to fly more freely,
than youve ever done before.

Here I am, yet where am I?
Mere particle of sand
upon an endless beach -
or less, a drop of water drifting
in an endless ocean of beliefs
that never dared to touch or utter
life into the depth of truth at all.

I rise, I fall, I float, I swim -
yet still I wander back to the beginning -
wondering upon a path
that seeks for no return,
to choose instead a life
that lies beyond all reprimands.

Re-fueling the fires of desire,
burning endlessly into another form,
transcending time and space and place
just as the ecstasy of fate is born again,
re-writing every tale told
within the golden flames so bold
that taunt and tease us
deep into this night of evermore . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1flesh.html0100644000274600007660000000577007702021713012305 0ustar area51otbiz12 Flesh

Flesh

Flesh, this flesh, these particles
of the one and only form
weve ever known as true
reveal to me again your mysteries
held within the darkness for too long
and lead us back into
your ecstasy eternal
that used to be no more
than just a mist of infinite unknowing
merely held within the feel of memory alone

Let us fly again, right now
our freedom known and love respected
within the honor and resplendence
of this feeling that has been
too long denied
in what the others say and do
for this is all this love
the primal power of creation
that ever comes to be
reality at all

So simple this, this love
of our reality in flesh of form...

? Michaelette ?

3/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1flickeringflames.html0100644000274600007660000000656107702021040014501 0ustar area51otbiz12 Flickering Flames

Flickering Flames

Flickering flames of candlelight
dancing in the dark of night
when clouds obscure the moon and stars
and we are left to wonder where we are.

They glimmer under eyelids closed
to find a way to finally expose
the inner light that always lives
within all hope of dawn.

One shimmering, fantastic light
that glows within the darkness of all being;
as endless flames will always play
within each particle of flesh
ascending in descent of heated passion;

Crystallizing liquid drops of ice,
sleepy yet electrically alive;
tensed into reactive relaxation,
knowingly admitting light
into the facets of the firmness
of its ultimate and intimate
yet costly composition.

As flickering flames of candlelight
dance within the dark of night
and clouds obscure the moon and stars;
while we become its wondering sense
of the movement of infinity itself . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1footprintsinthesnow.html0100644000274600007660000000576407702021710015352 0ustar area51otbiz12 Footprints in the Snow

Footprints in the Snow

Footprints in the snow are left
within the white of all discovery
just as the dawn of mortal eyes
begins again to see the symmetry
between the nature of the earth
and all that we have come to know as worth.

While fear, a human metaphor,
cries out in animated comprehension
of the natural world that we behold
but yet have come to really understand.
Frozen in the aftermath of birth
just where the threshold of all horror
so awesomely expands.

And so we stand, metaphorically complete,
as the taste of sweat becomes one breath of air
in an atmosphere now drenched in perspicacity
where everything stands out in utter clarity.
While a form, enlarged yet never spoken
wavers in the air to fill
the footprints in the snow . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home...
  1forbiddenfruit.html0100644000274600007660000000657707702021024014213 0ustar area51otbiz12 Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden fruit, the sweetest kind.
Ripe and succulent,
it shines with moonglows light.
Left, just hanging on the vine,
a hand-spans length away
through yonder fence.
And the gate is hanging all ajar,
left open in a welcome gesture of appeal.

Tempting, temptress of a sensuous
and blind desire ever rising
to the fore of mind again,
and happiness is lingering,
just waiting for a chance to sing
through juices that enticingly
swell the skin close to a bursting point.

When alas, a light, a flick of switch;
and the hand that had just touched its fruit
was taken back again.
Dimly lit, they never saw
the bulge within his pocket.

A startling night of starlight sang,
beckoning and then revealing
another chance of reckless
rendezvous -
with this, the lost, forbidden fruit,
he gained...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1forgiveness.html0100644000274600007660000000724607702020310013526 0ustar area51otbiz12 Forgiveness

Forgiveness

We love
(too few, too many, not enough)
and so the patterns grow
unaided yet by understanding

We give
(too much, too much, too much...)
to wash away a sin
we never had to bear at all

Yet truly can another never do
the one real thing we need
to do alone:
forgive ourselves

Then the tables turn
and suddenly the need to give
becomes an emptiness
gnawing hungrily
for all the best weve given
needs to return

How startling then
when those weve given
all the best we are
just turn their backs
and walk away again

and yet how shining bright
the angel who responds
to our great need
implanting yet another seed
of love

and thus we find
the best of all we
ever could have been
in a response...

? Michaelette ?

3/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1forreal.html0100644000274600007660000000406207702024164012632 0ustar area51otbiz12 For Real

For Real

These faeries,
always part of all creation.
composed of gossamer and fantasy -
they are so real,
and yet beyond belief.

And so she passes on,
flying high within the sky,
searching for no more
than just a single point
in all reality of form,
that chooses to believe
she is for real...

? Michaelette ?

3/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1forthestarlight.html0100644000274600007660000001060407702017157014414 0ustar area51otbiz12 For the Starlight

For the Starlight

She looks into the mirror every morning;
more and more she sees dark circles
underlying eyes that once were brightness
reaching out to touch itself again. And so,
she sees again, in utter clarity of those electric
lights, all that she has spent on promises of
love unkept, again withdrawn from her.

She wonders, as she wanders through too many
days and nights of a complete unease, what
in the end might come to be a resolution to it all?
Will she only fall again into the abyss that so many
others still create? And why this need in them,
so great that it descends again in her? Unaltered,
overwhelming attitudes of their depression,
pleading to be spoken now at last, through her.

Lost and lonely, unsupported, still she seeks,
she moves, she breathes, right through those
empty halls of all enclosure - one little flame,
alight within the darkness of it all. So many
feelings, for so long unidentified, re-arise to try
to smother everything her flame has come to be.
She seeks no more than shelter now, beyond
these realms of altered ecstasy that lie in stasis,
in those other vague, unaltered hearts.

Will she ever find another who believes and dares
to live and thus express this love itself into
completion of a unity of form - no longer yours
nor mine, but rather ours within a symmetry
of differences that merely open out
into themselves...?

Another night, another morn impending,
as she reaches for the starlight once again...

? Michaelette ?

5/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1freeandeasy.html0100644000274600007660000000472707702023250013471 0ustar area51otbiz12 Free and Easy

Free and Easy

Free and easy,
no more claims
upon this destiny
that I must be.
For this soul of mine
must lead the way
into infinity.

I dont know why.
Im not sure how.
The where and when
remain obscure.
And yet I trust
my soul to lead me home.

Free and easy,
out-of-debt,
upon the winds
they glided high
into their destiny...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1freeobsession.html0100644000274600007660000001063507702017134014050 0ustar area51otbiz12 Free Obsession

Free Obsession

Obsessively, he stalked her nights and days,
his focus on her image, burned and burning
ceaselessly within his mind; impressed so deep
within his soul, that nothing could seem whole
or right without her image there. What evil
played with such unfeeling; carelessly arousing
his unquenchable desire for more of her?

Never touching, never touched, but nonetheless
an ambiance of energy kept gathering, impressing
all he was upon her soul. Blameless though, he
still abided in those lies of innocence that he had
learned so well to tell to anyone who asked; and
mortal eyes just cannot see the feelings of insanity
that he forced on her within the spin of some great
continuum of lies that kept him going.

Yet always, must these tides of time be turned,
running back into themselves again. Twas thus
his games began to play themselves on him,
earnestly surrounding him in echoes of emotion
so intensely spent on her; submerging even
thoughts he used to think, now long gone from this,
the essence of his very life in time and space; as
angelically, the devil rose to tell a tale composed
of all the chaos that he really felt inside.

Unbelievably, he felt his walls, so eagerly
constructed in his youth, disintegrating into
nothingness, now bleeding all the errors of
his past into a formlessness that lasts into
forever. Twas then she knew this endless
recollection of herself was coming true, even as
her image faded so completely from his mind
and she was free...

? Michaelette ?

5/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1fromloveofyou.html0100644000274600007660000001026307702017423014113 0ustar area51otbiz12 From Love of You

From Love of You

The sparrows voice a call of spring
singing sweetly as they mend their nest
yet you increase the distance
roaring silently between us
in every passing moment
of your absence.

I think that I shall never understand
a point of view that fears this love so true.
I breathe a realization in:
tis better to know love
than just a friendly platitude
spoken in a secrecy
that has no bounds.

Did you think it was
a pleasure for me then?
to hear the distant tremor in your voice
as you tried so gallantly to hide
the depth of pain you felt inside
never spoken, still I felt
it cutting to the heart of me.

Particles of hope lie fallow,
shattered in each moment
when your silence wins it all;
yet the tides still rise and fall
and so do I, but now into a solitary
quiet state of mind where I can bless
the seconds that we shared in loving bliss
but too, let go the mighty, overwhelming
pain of your departure;
so swift, you nearly ripped
my heart to bits.

I heal myself, slowly now
of all the many wounds
that came unasked to me
from love of you...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1fromthebase.html0100644000274600007660000000571007702022016013472 0ustar area51otbiz12 From the Base

From the Base

I want it all
nothing else will ever do
the passion and the fantasy
dreams of love
forever coming true
here, within this flesh
of all reality

yet not within a sense
of some proprietary action
nor wisdom wasted
on the multitudes
who so rarely come to understand
the whole of who I am
beyond a misty vision
that is ever out of reach

for I am real
and thus I feel
the struggle and the pain
stemming from the base
of all of life
and I wish nothing more
than love itself, and thee
to come with me into eternity...

? Michaelette ?

4/10/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1fromwithin.html0100644000274600007660000000543707702022335013373 0ustar area51otbiz12 From Within

From Within

One flower streaming endlessly
through ever-opening insanity
that speaks in tongues of living light
and deigns to spend the night
just in between the you and me
composing yet another symphony
of galaxies within creative might
seeking more than just the source
of what we know as light
as indigo becomes the one
yet unexplored new vista
and mysticism brings the sight
of future being born forever
in these spans we know as time
and utter beauty opens endlessly
into one flower streaming
from within . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1gentleeyes.html0100644000274600007660000001203707702016201013336 0ustar area51otbiz12 Gentle Eyes

Gentle Eyes

Gentle eyes, so soft and so serene,
do you dream when you are wide awake?
When the stakes of day rise high
and you partake of every altered mood
produced within a world thats only seen.

Soft-as-satin lips, so sensuous when put at ease,
why do you pout so many hours away?
When a search for happiness anticipates
an upward curling of the corners of your lips
and from there, your sunshine laugh divine.

Pert and perky, nose so oft forgotten,
do you feel a jealousy arising?
There within an inner tickling
that draws the focus of attention to itself,
disabling the devilish scheming going on.

And mind, oh mind so overburdened,
why do you stay so funneled in that linearity?
As if your head were somehow now detached
from human nature and the sketch
of muscles into curves that blend
and need to move.

Then the throat contracts
within an automated motion
quite beyond the gist of willed control,
coughing in a spasm for the many words
left again unspoken for the sake
of an imagined right of staid propriety.

As silence gleans the answers
in a breath of pure unspoken air,
whispering of truths beyond compare;
for the heart is rising in a majesty
so powerful that everything must stop.

Just simply stop, no more or less,
for one forever moment minus time;
when your eyes look deeply into mine.
Gentle eyes, so soft and so serene
Do you dream when you are
looking back at me . . . ?

? Michaelette ?

2/6/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1ghostlyimages.html0100644000274600007660000000475607702023214014064 0ustar area51otbiz12 Ghostly Images

Ghostly Images

Ghostly images remain
of days we danced to each refrain;
I watch and wish it could be true
within a touch of flesh again.

Days of love when magic made
the nights endure through loving ways,
you and I the instruments
of its composure.

I watch and seek a meaning
to these ghostly images
that seem to haunt me now,
for you are gone,
no matter what I wish.

Whispering, in silence speaking,
they merely tell me this:
that love is true
although you couldn't be...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1goldenhair.html0100644000274600007660000000603607702021630013312 0ustar area51otbiz12 Golden Hair

Golden Hair

Satin soft, her golden crown of hair
fine in ways few babies ever
come to know at all
and oh, sweet whisper of her voice
that speaks in tones of love sublime
divinely uttering the truth of heart
through flesh, so innocent and knowing

Reaching out, he dares to touch
his greatest wish as yet unknown
and breathes her breath of air
now spoken true
so soft and ripe and succulent
within a radiance of beauty calling
almost falling from the tree
of life and love itself

One taste and all his senses
fill themselves within an ecstasy
of satisfaction never known before
with every touch, another door flies open
for there within, lie heavens never spent
crowned with all the glory
of her golden hair divine...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1graceandglory.html0100644000274600007660000000640507702021241014015 0ustar area51otbiz12 Grace and Glory

Grace & Glory

Initiation to the darkness of all matter,
once martyred to the whitest light
of a mind that stands alone,
upon a throne that never really
came to be itself at all.

Phallically, the trees arise,
from just a tiny seed;
nurtured by the worth of earth herself
into a prominence of glory;
reaching ever for the heights,
as if to touch just what they are inside
could never be enough.

While secretly, this inner mystery of life,
expands itself in all we say and do.
As invisibly, it seeps its need
once more into our lives,
to bring the chaos closer to its theme
of creativity - while lights are seen
to beam around its utter sense of being.

For this mystery demands
its place in time and space;
bringing down sublime, unerring,
hues of energy now spent within
the grace and glory of it all . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/06/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1headingforthestars.html0100644000274600007660000000470007702023276015066 0ustar area51otbiz12 Heading for the Stars

Heading for the Stars

The faery starts to fly again,
reaching for that one true star,
reflecting all she is within the skies.
And so she glows within a sultry, fiery light
beyond the bounds and bonds of all reproach
believing in herself beyond a doubt.
For she has felt her way into reality
and lands again, still standing
on her own two feet.

Unknowingly,
she lets it take the lead -
this flesh that truly
is herself complete;
trailing stardust in the wake
of every step of passage...

? Michaelette ?

4/10/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1healingagain.html0100644000274600007660000000602707702021655013614 0ustar area51otbiz12 Healing Again

Healing Again

I must wash my hands
of this affair
for youve made it clear
that your belief in love
lies buried somewhere
far beneath your words

Your words of evermore
no longer ring within my ears
for you are gone
and turned the truth of love
into a fleeting attitude of mood

The raging rivers of despair
are quick receding
while anger quickly comes
and goes again these days
for you are gone
yet life and love go on
even without you

The silence seems serene
instead of deafening
I hear a high-pitched note
of my deliverance
ringing, singing soft and sweet
of healing again...

? Michaelette ?

4/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1heart.gif0100644000274600007660000000271007702024605012102 0ustar area51otbiz12GIF89a !   !!!!!!!!!)19)!!!!.!-!)!1!9)))1!)!1)))1!!!)!1)))111BB!9!BOJ!F!N!R)99!9!B!J)9!9)B+G.?)J)R)R3O)J)9)B)J191J1B1J9F $X1Z-R*]9Z 3]9R2b=bs;=<>RZZN`lV^h[ipJc{Ng{Vi}MdJs[q~MmXqWyWvTOg}hec~ghgex|ʞ¦!, !HʈР& 1"") '6a"4șsL]aXȘ"F\JO5jkTU3%f0u(UZTLXe֬sgɓN^R׮A䟿1mm%#F W\"u 6lo*@f3cTmgO޼2nǹk+)\0;՝<{sG{+5^3bMsFU-u繛-۝Z@e͔)Rf#U&_mvƫ/L7e|Bʛ5PYfx;6F,f XwfQvTڄQ<\1bQ jVhcAWТKVQwG,b$jlcp`A\lVFf,y\aG,-PMVƗĢG,w-h .7 baQqʩ6RA/< tcK,hw G.iaK7ѐ@QpMiܑFrGs|ǩ /Fr77~ǫ@rjKsqԱ7,AxtK.q*.x/D.+tsK ]K/t|Pt/!,7߼K/ Ahga;1heaven.html0100644000274600007660000000402507702024211012436 0ustar area51otbiz12 Heaven

Heaven

Where, oh where
can I truly belong
if not here, within this form
of all I am...?

Eyes, oh eyes of heaven sent
pure soul of Thee I seek - yet more
for what can this reality
ever finally come to be
without the union of this flesh
in mortal form...?

We are...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1hemovedhimself.html0100644000274600007660000001104607702016770014203 0ustar area51otbiz12 He Moved Himself

He Moved Himself

And so he moved
for movement seemed to be prerequisite.
Purposeless, he drifted through
the days of his demise, and thus
he compromised the very best of what he was,
in order to fit in within a greater crowd
of unresolved and unresolving
(not to mention detrimental),
idiosyncratic meaningless.

Until his soul began to speak
in words that cannot keep themselves enclosed;
and he rose in increments each time he listened,
unsettling the ones that he was closest to
in a vagary of newness still expanding;
as he drifted, disembodied,
through those realms invisible.
Touching close, the center felt
its way into his life.

Unable to sleep, still he dreamed;
and in that moment,
just before the sun is really seen,
long grass turned gold
by just a touch of burning lights embrace;
and he knew then the reality
of dreams that bring the soul of earth
forever into life in cyclic motion.

He became one blade of grass,
enduring dry and hot and moist and cold,
as meaning flowed through everything;
for the best of the best
perseveres beyond our pain -
not for loss or gain - but for the freedom
of one thrill of life, forever burned
to memories of soul-struck bliss.
Immortalized, beyond all time,
within the mind of presents past,
to live into the future of us all . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1heralone.html0100644000274600007660000000427307702023761013003 0ustar area51otbiz12 Her Alone

Her Alone

Prophecy and revelation
within the forms of earth herself
the gods will rise again
in all of being

Tamed somehow within
the greater clarity
of intuitions seeing
that speaks of truth
so deep that it simply
must evolve again

and so the world, too
evolves in every revolution
of spirit seeking form
in Her alone...

? Michaelette ?

4/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1hervoice.html0100644000274600007660000001212407702016130012774 0ustar area51otbiz12 Her Voice

Her Voice

Tis me, my child
the one who held you cradled
lovingly within my arms
after all the trauma of your birth
had passed away, protecting
and providing nurturance
for all that you might come
some day to be

And while it now
may seem to you
that time has passed for me
it is not so
and so I come to you
in dreamlike symbol now

Heed these words
for they are true
I am of earth
and air and fire and water
held in balance by
the power of all
I speak now of the deeps
so long denied to mind
at last unleashed
within each mortal form

At first it seems a tidal wave
of emotions that we cannot tame
but truly, we must come
to tame them all
built over the centuries
of logical irrationality
that only works itself into
a point of no return

I counsel and I guide
but I cannot turn the tides
of all that runs so deep
and true through you
because I am myself
and you are you
and we must rise as one
together or forever separated

The time has come
The choice is yours
to create or to destroy
or can we perhaps
now find a way
to live the in between
of this emotion?

Uneasily, he woke then
to Her voice...

? Michaelette ?

4/15/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1holdingin.html0100644000274600007660000000466607702023332013161 0ustar area51otbiz12 Holding In

Holding In

Seek me out
from deep within
for here I wait
beyond the borders
you believe to be
insanity.

Tis then the misty veil
of creation comes to tell
its mighty tale of all reality.

Yet not until you search
and seek from deep within
to find that fortress
that your fear
still holds you in.

The key is yours
and you yourself
the only one
that holds it...

? Michaelette ?

3/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1holdsus.html0100644000274600007660000001442207702015121012653 0ustar area51otbiz12 Holds Us

Holds Us

You gave to me your sorrow, and I cried for you.
You gave to me your fear, and I just blew it all away.
You gave to me your anger, of such weight and density
that all the energy that I could muster
was put to use, creating mighty spirit fire
to burn it all to ash, arising like the phoenix once again.
I suffered too, the pain of you -
for all I heal in you, I heal too, within myself.

I felt your love, and heaven came,
descending in a haze of crazy beams,
for the moon was at its full and so was I;
while every star within the sky
shimmered as more stardust fell
to cover over eyes within the magic of its spell;
cascading just like misty waterfalls
into a spring of pure enlightened being.

But then the alibis began,
and I noted how the patterns, newly changed,
were pulled back to the same old shape -
and so I started over once again -
with the sorrow, the anger, the fear and the pain,
and I found that guilt and shame had somehow
lodged themselves unseen within the bloom
of all the love we shared and knew.

I realize now, with the sorrow of all ages,
that these things that still return to block
the flow of living love that once was strong,
are still a part of you, a part you never wished
for me to know at all, hidden oh so deeply within you.
And still, you seek to keep the core
of all you are from me.

Resentment then, and jealousy,
begin to fill the air if I dared ask you
why this might be so -
all this within a sea of vast confusion,
rising ever in a wake containing
awful/awesome power.
And so the fall from grace began
in secrets held so deep within
that I knew the love I shared with you
would never be enough
to heal all the many wounds
that you kept taking on yourself
to try to heal all the ills
your past had brought to bear.

So truly now, I wish no more than this,
a tender kiss just now and then
until you find a way to love yourself
enough to spend your days and nights
within this stream of loving light
that holds us all within its mighty
and yet oh so gentle feel of a caress
if only you would let it once again...

? Michaelette ?

3/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1howdeep.html0100644000274600007660000000542207702022402012625 0ustar area51otbiz12 How Deep

How Deep

How deep
the many wounds
of your departure
as you exploded out the door
and somehow all your feelings
just exploded into me

How true
the love that we once shared
before you let society
come and stand between
the dreams we shared

How painful
even memories
of how we were
when we stood strong
within the sweet, deep
feel of loving hearts

For the wounds inflicted
havent healed yet
especially not this
shattering of heart
and yet, they will...

? Michaelette ?

4/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1how.html0100644000274600007660000000700107702020577011775 0ustar area51otbiz12 How

How?

How do I live with this?
This love that you insist remain
no more than just a fantasy,
blown across a distance
that I simply cannot cover anymore.

How do I live with this?
This reality that you presented me.
No promises, no plan,
but in the end, just pain -
because youve gone away again
without an explanation.

Yet I know deep in my heart,
and with everything I am,
that love is real,
and so must be just this -
so real that it is touching close,
a feel to be depended on.

And even more than this,
for love must be a presence
that is steady and surreal at once;
carried thus, all through and through
the heart of our existence.

So tell me love, I need to know,
and I cannot find the answer all alone.
How do I live with this?
This very sense of just a sometimes thing,
when all we are was meant to bring
love home...?

? Michaelette ?

3/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1ifonly.html0100644000274600007660000000622607702021443012501 0ustar area51otbiz12 If Only

If Only

You promised forever
only hours before you
suddenly just chose to drive away.
But then you made so very many
promises along the way
that never came to be.

I changed because of you,
and just for your sake too.
I guess these things
just cant be helped sometimes.
But now I simply need
to find myself right here again -
the one that always knew
just what to do,
and begin to make things
right again for me.
(Ive done it for so many others.
Ssurely now, I must know how
to do it for myself.)

If only, if only,
this moment comes soon -
for memories blossom again
and better days
lie just around
the rainbow bend for me...

? Michaelette ?

3/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1illusive.html0100644000274600007660000003337207702013473013043 0ustar area51otbiz12 Illusive

Illusive

We seek to do whats best -
but best for who, and why, and what?
There are so many versions
of the right and wrong of life in time,
that rise within confusion of
an arbitrary intellect that seeks
no more than just to stand alone
in time and space, so distantly remote
from the true feeling of reality.

We are pulled one way
and then another;
heartstrings pulsing out of beat,
sweating even through a winter storm.
To be or not to be,
and above all, to be what or who...?

And so we drive ourselves insane,
just past the brink of definition,
looking for an answer that remains
as illusive as the spirit
that first frames the many questions
we are meant to find an answer to.

How long shall we claim
that all blame must lie
within a childhood
we never really came to know
at all?

While those in power pull our strings,
oft until were lost in their remembering
of how the world used to work
back in those days
when all seemed quite complete,
in some extraordinary carefree way;
when an other took the basic tasks
of life and love upon themselves,
and shared them - lovingly, completely -
with each of us, lifes living prodigy.

These memories repeat themselves,
adding yet another life into their repertoire
of childhood happiness
that really never quite existed
here within it all;
for understanding must be sought
to balance all the powers of the dawn.

How long shall we claim
that all future must lie
within a childhood
we never really knew?

For if your memory is true,
it tells you too
of all the pain that life in form
has somehow brought to bear on all of us,
even when our hearts were incubating.
Yet have we ever, in our living memory
truly known what freedom is;
or felt it, like a bird in flight must feel...?

Alone and centered, within life itself,
not needing any else to satisfy a need;
for one flight of freedom sings itself
into a state of utter being
that lies above, beyond, below,
the slow, unaltered, never changing,
unconscious states of childhood.

While reaching, we must then encounter
the nemesis of each extreme,
when power and control begin
to bleed their way through everything we are
Even though, within this sense of power
a rude and rudimentary feel
of powerlessness must then abide
and come to life unasked.

For dates and space and time and hours
somehow creep into our minds,
using us the way we used to think
that we used them -
as no more than tools to expand
a hint of ultimate propriety.

This perfection that we seek
somehow defeats each great ideal -
and humanity is faltering upon a brink
where culture sinks into its roots
and sees itself at last within
the nature of the earth -
that knows of fools and foolishness
(for are we not, in truth
of Her creation...?)

How long shall we claim
that all blame must lie
within a childhood
we never really knew?
(mere hints of loving feeling
that seem to stray
so far away sometimes)

And why?
Why must it be this way?
The question that the hordes deny,
for meaning lies within the answers found;
while easy seldom can become
the repertoire of change
that leads to evolution.

Hints and aberrations -
obsequious, the revelations
that claim the truth of future
that unfolds itself in form.
Unjustified emotional explosions
rise from sources seeming inexplicable -
until we learn to feel ourselves in form.

Instinctual, the power of lust -
this base desire, and necessary too,
coming to the fore just when
we thought wed overcome them all -
those instinctual attitudes.
And then we fall again
into that world minus love
that seems so overrated
in those days and nights of misery.

We drift into a haze of great emotion
(and not just the positive
we all too often choose to see)
and share this with the greater world
they call humanity;
rising once again to sink
into dark clouds of misery,
that seed themselves too thoroughly
into the energy of each denial.

The pressure is on,
and the pressure is building;
for the source of all we are
would have it so.
As emotions long kept secret
in forbidden crevices
are rising to the surface of us all.
Shall we rise or shall we fall
into the balanced wisdom they provide?

Or shall we simply just insist again
that all blame must lie
within a childhood of dreams
we've yet to really come to know
at all...?

? Michaelette ?

3/8/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1indigosexpression.html0100644000274600007660000001211407702016125014747 0ustar area51otbiz12 Indigos Expression

Indigos Expression

Undocumented, as yet unencountered.
This love of unencompassed night
composed of indigo -
is flowing free at last.
Glowingly within this night of white,
as the moon begins to flow oer snow
in rippling golden waves
of great anticipation;
freeing soul to fly within
the whole of utter being.

Mesmerized, enchantment plays
relaxing in a melding of all days
where wide awake means moving out
into a world too large to understand;
encompassing the vast experience
of all of life in calculated motion -
while love seems left for
heaven-scented
hues of twilit indigo.

Silence repeating an eternity of tone,
beating in the rhythm of a heart so vast
it blasts the known apart within
an ever-moving mood of undertow;
that keeps a flow of love alive and moving.
Relieving tension in an overpowering
release of words that speak
in moving phrases -
uniting in themselves to find
a state of ecstasy that is
unerring in its will to be.

And so desire comes again
befriending only those who choose to act
in variance of ancient attitudes;
to bring the angry mood of modern times
back to a balance so divine
that this whispering becomes a dynasty.
Unshakable by the complexity
of all we used to think ourselves to be.
Speaking in deep tones so sweetly sung,
that the deepest hues of indigos expression
come to this completion of depression
longing for beginnings
of ascent yet once again . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1indigowind.html0100644000274600007660000000505007702023104013322 0ustar area51otbiz12 Indigo Wind

Indigo Wind

The wind is blowing full tonight
whistling through the trees
that have and hold the bounty
of the growing leaves of spring.

Its broken all the heavy clouds apart,
so that the heaven of these stars
comes blinkingly alive between
a trail of white now seen in puffs
against deep indigo as night
drifts by again.

Warmth resides within the cool
blowing through and through
all soul again, for these
indigo winds
of a spring night divine
have always been
a friend to everyone...

? Michaelette ?

4/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1inecstasy.html0100644000274600007660000000551407702022211013174 0ustar area51otbiz12 In Ecstasy

In Ecstasy

Music sprang into my being.
It was the only beauty that I knew just then;
for the blind beliefs of faith descended
much too quickly to amend the dark.
Yet beauty still would find a way
to utter life into exquisitely enchanting tones,
where harmony resided beyond doubt,
and every particle would open out
into the dance.

It waits here still,
one step beyond the many moods of fear
of unbelief and any dignity
thats said to dwell in death or dying;
defying even stoic strategy
within the dirge of its deep reprimand.
Playing still, the uttered strings of being,
moving freely in and of infinity;
breaking through the mood of every chant
to live itself in ecstasy again . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1innocenceofeyes.html0100644000274600007660000000731407702020243014351 0ustar area51otbiz12 Innocence of Eyes

Innocence of Eyes

Subtle, subtle, purity of love so clear
found shining in an innocence of eyes
that hold the worth and quality of mortal
life within a glance that focuses on all
thats in between.

For here, the inner and the outer have
never been divided in extremity; just
here, where everything we are is all
that is. And life begins to flow again,
unaltered by the multitude of rules
that never quieted the roaring, raging
rhythm of those oceanic waves; still
beating life of soul into each
form and style we seem to know;
as somehow, we become altered,
in an ever-altering of sameness
and yet we know,
we always know -
we are.

Subtle, subtle, purity of love so clear
found shining in an innocence of eyes
that hold the worth and quality of mortal
life within a glance that focuses on all
thats in between. Natural and undefended,
living every moment in an ecstasy
of loves eternity...

? Michaelette ?

6/04/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1innocencethatknows.html0100644000274600007660000000703107702020550015076 0ustar area51otbiz12 Innocence That Knows

Innocence That Knows

Angel born in human form -
oh babe, how is it you express
such heaven on this earth
by merely being...?

Sweet memories abide,
abounding in an innocence
that knew the truth of vibrant youth
without a thought of what society
might think it ought to be.

Here, beyond the days of our demise,
when spirit, wise in ways
that reach and touch eternity
brings memories that most would
rather leave within a past
not yet dissolved;
and it is here, that their resolve
begins to shatter.

For the power of will is a limited thing,
while all that joy is meant to bring
still lies within a heart of innocence;
for an angel born of human form
cannot release its love in increments.

Its all or nothing now
as we find a way to come to grips
with a new era of an innocence
that knows the very worth
of Love itself . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1insanity.html0100644000274600007660000002174307702014134013037 0ustar area51otbiz12 Insanity

Insanity

Over the edge of sanity, they drive themselves
in rushing tension; battling within the wars of
every great extreme, and delve into the deepest
depth dark, the sweetness of pure being;
bleeding, running into shades of pain and misery
for all they never faced before, so seemingly
outside themselves, now rises up in waves
that crash and mesmerize; while terror, so extreme
becomes the one reality of all that theyve denied.

Trembling, they try to move; but every step they take,
no matter the direction, brings them face to face
with all they ever really felt inside, as streams of power
glow and melt in one pure slash of lightning striking
through the heart and soul of one alone; for all
that they adored now proves to be no more than
just a great untruth itself. Illusion of illusions;
the unsayable is speaking now to them, its words
a stream of ancient feeling vast this void
of all thats deep and dark that has been reached.

It seems as if an endless chasm, echoing
with everything that theyve despised the most;
and no one dares to break this magic spell of
minds illusion, for they know not what might lie
beyond its bounds. Their very soul, so ill at ease,
speaks the language of it all, tongues like flaming
torches start to fill those halls of dark and hidden
lairs but you must not take it personally, you see.

For you and I have flown within the skies of all
tomorrows, and come to know that ecstasy exists,
right here within these particles
of flesh that matter most of all;
and still contain these seeds
of darkness in themselves
to fuel the mighty light
of consciousness unfolding;

while hordes of gold may still be found, just after
all the yours is mined right out of
all those veins that run so
deep within the hold of all you thought you
never were before.

Do you see it there...? The darkest door of all
slowly, slowly opening into you that stench a
multitude of all the moods so long denied; but
now your alibis have turned to mist; for gently,
gently, darkness kissed your lips into a
death-like leer. So sweet, the sirens song of
all seduction, luring men to dive into this depth
they never wished to know at all. Contaminated
by their very condemnation; grown from endless
seeds of jealousy and prejudice; as cast and class
and hierarchy became the stations and the cross
that clashes still, in constant battle with it all.
War, the tone of all cacophonies that build
in volume to this peak, to speak at last of why
they ever came to be these feelings of such
utter misery and destitution; tumbling, cracking,
crashing, crumbling into dust the very trust
and structure of foundations.

See them run, their terror moving them beyond
the brink of all they thought was good and right;
now beyond the known of sanity hear the
thunderous mass of running feet that flee
the very fear theyve built their lives upon; as
endless darkness comes to light in flames
licking, tickling laughs of horror out from deep
inside their souls. And know at last the utter hold
that dark must keep upon the glittering power
of each golden sheen of shimmering heat and
great desire; still treasuring the yours and mine,
until the very elements of ore, denied a place
and space of difference, reverently melt again
into this realm of pure insanity.

Depth of terror, once denied,
it flies the skies of innocence
and mind...

? Michaelette ?

5/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1intheair.html0100644000274600007660000001061607702017153013005 0ustar area51otbiz12 In the Air

In the Air

In the air and in the atmosphere,
hovering all about.
I breathe, and then it enters me,
just as another doubt explodes inside;
for paradox is on the rise again -
numinous, in its intensity.

Is this directed then, at only me?
Am I here or am I there?
I feel your presence, so surreal
and wonder if you feel mine too.
Yet, how can we exist, if so divided
without confusion entering in...?
For two-in-one, yet separated,
these alternate realities
begin to spin in opposite directions.

Knowing neither then nor now
yet rising all around somehow;
effecting time and space and matter
without living in their bounds,
or feeling all the pain of this -
its past of unexpressed emotion.

Diving deep, then rising up.
Understanding naught
of what it means to live
right here, within the in between -
where right and wrong become just one,
within the purest mystery of all -
this love.

In the air and in the atmosphere,
hovering all about.
I breathe, and then it enters me,
just as another doubt explodes inside;
for paradox is on the rise again -
numinous, in its intensity.

Would the gods of old
now wake from all
their dreamy sleep at last...?

? Michaelette ?

3/13/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1inthefullofthemoon.html0100644000274600007660000000541507702022415015111 0ustar area51otbiz12 In the Full of the Moon

In the Full of the Moon

Spring is here -
oh, glory of all glories.
Time of magic and of make-believe.
(Will we ever choose
to make our dreams come true...?)

I saw the moon today,
as if in visionary image,
As she, in all her glory,
chose today to stand
at just mid-sky,
even as the sun was
leaving us to his descent.
(What prophesy this sight
unasked, can bring...)

Now I am left to wonder
(as I wander far
beyond the border)
if anyone has ever dared
respond to her
in all her majesty...

? Michaelette ?

4/2/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1intime.html0100644000274600007660000000560407702022120012456 0ustar area51otbiz12 In Time

In Time

You left me nothing to believe
when you walked back out the door
after promising an evermore of us
and all the truth of love we shared
crumbled in that action of deceit

I sift through the debris you left
just particles of nothingness
that sparkle once and fly away
back to the emptiness of space
that once held everything

Anger comes and anger fades
while tears again arise
for all the many smiles
we used to share are gone
and all I know is I must end
this sinking feeling of despair

Replacing fading memories
with hope of future now set free
for these particles that now fly free
will circle and return to me
in time...

? Michaelette ?

4/18/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1intoaninferno.html0100644000274600007660000000534307702022461014052 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into an Inferno

Into an Inferno

I rise above the altar of your flesh
on my knees in total adoration; when
without so much as hands that touch
you enter into me, so totally
it takes my breath away.

A moan, a groan, a kiss;
oh grand ascent of innocence,
unfolding like a flower in the night;
moist and succulent,
this scent of dew that falls
from heavens heights.

Passion rising into an inferno,
reaching for the ice of mountains high
within a melting point of all denial
as water floods the plains
in springtime rain,
nurturing and nourishing
the flow of love through everything
that is...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1intoeternity.html0100644000274600007660000001250407702015744013741 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into Eternity

Into Eternity

Role reversal, yours and mine.
(How is it that all time just slips away?)
As everything we feel streams through
the open channels that we live to share.

Day and night, such paradox they bring.
We sleep just as the hoot owl comes awake,
questioning the core
of the identity we wear by day;
watching as our dreams tear it away.

And then the switch, as nature
(so alien to what weve known before)
slips secretly into the haven
that used to be the known
security of home and warmth of hearth.

Naturally, we feel just out of whack
as our perspective point of view
is taken back to days
when as a child we played so many parts.
(And still, we love them all from this
our endless childhood heart.)

Once we chose a partiality
(not quite one, yet never less than half)
as if to give up on the sense
of achieving our completion;
but now our soul demands
we change it all.

So strange, this mystifying gist of life
when spiraling up, we slide back down
the only difference found in definitions,
intransigent in the stiffness of a bow.

Swinging low, then flying high again
in resonance, the air reverberates
bringing lightning flashes of a current
that the past has tried so hard
to leave behind.

Yet now we find ourselves alone together
within an atmosphere of ever-opening,
as mists are swept away
and heart comes in to play a melody.

Deep and sweet, it beats in rhythm
as the heartbeat of the earth responds,
resounding in a spiral and a spin,
for these worlds within are her world too.

And all we say and do moves on
into eternity . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1intofields.html0100644000274600007660000001426107702015170013337 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into Fields

Into Fields

Sinking into fields of depression
where all we say or do seems somehow wrong
and oh, the storms of self-reprisal raging deep within
while still, the world spins into concentric orbits
for the dawn (oh dawn of living glory)
will always come again in an ascent of living,
loving adoration of all life.

Whispering, the winds begin to tell a tale mysterious
enhancing mood by tracing routes weve yet to travel on
and galaxies begin to form within a new perception
of this world viewed from inside out
from angles never quite conceived
by mortal mind before
where angels soar to make amends
for the baseness of the course of past survival.

A majesty of great release repeats itself unendingly,
for here we come to know the sense of all infinity  -
where every tint and hue begins to form,
and dreams begin the process of creation;
relaxing into heat that never quite feels hot
yet warms the icy feel of never real.

For there, just at the deepest depth of all depression
is exactly where all sense of height begins;
when we finally take the time to delve and dive,
opening our every sense to the art of listening
Can you hear the endless chanting of all movement?

Look then, into the ever-changing
mists of dreams not quite yet here
imagining themselves into intensity of form
contracting into root, then seed, and feeding on
the magic ever moving all around.

Sunken over centuries of minds undoing
yet building in a strength beyond magnificence,
our future calls, insisting to be heard;
more clearly than the mass we know as movement,
insisting that we change within its depth
in this deliverance from all despondency.

As the mists of magic minds unknowing
suddenly begin to clear to sight
and all that we hold dear becomes
one central image, so inclusive
that sun and moon stream forth in majesty;
just as the winter fields respond to spring.

And every hint of love we bring to being
outlasts the countenance of intellectual appeal,
revealing that the source of all thats real
is here, in every particle and chance
that dares to dance this loves refrain
to rise and to become
our April rain of flowering . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1intoharmony.html0100644000274600007660000001223307702016041013541 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into Harmony

Into Harmony

Crystal water flowing upward in a stream
(We dream ourselves into infinity)
Sparkling particles of diadems
(She waits for us in tender dignity)
Deeper, deeper, higher still we fly
(into her skies, so all awakening)

Where roses bloom
(within the sweetest clarity of color)
And the green of springtime tresses
grows right down a mountainside
(scenting every breath we take with glory)

And there! The majesty of trees
that reach to touch eternity.
they drink it in and blend it all -
sap running through their roots
into the earth and back again.
(How gracefully they bend
in their submission to the wind
she plays upon)

Lacy moss adorns the crevices and rocks
where in a stream of light
a naked angel kneels
(in praise and adoration
of the sense of life in form)
When distantly, a whiteness opens out
(a templed trace of masonry
and sparkling glass arising)
in balance, so symmetrically in tune,
that the sun beguiles the moon
into attendance.

Reverent, the landscape grows,
holding back the wildness with groves
of sacred oaks and silent ponds
(while swans inhabit moisture leaking,
speaking of the wonder of all flight)

He enters in, just as her misty veil dissipates
tenderly vibrating in a melody of moon,
and all the tides are turned around
another bend of utter ecstasy;
for they have found each other once again
and all that is, reverberates
and blends into a harmony]
of love . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/16/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1intoourinnocence.html0100644000274600007660000001371607702015302014561 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into Our Innocence

Into Our Innocence

The moon is just beginning to allow
its vision to begin again in nighttime skies
as the dark of cyclic nature calls
in muted whispers of the rain that falls
(so softly and succinctly
in the rhythm of our pain).

Hear the melting snow within its flow;
and see it streaming goldenly
admitting sparkling sprites to dance
within this known reality
(abating the insanity
of endless playing days).

As anger, in its many forms
is released to speak in dreams
where utter sanity confuses mind,
and yet defines just what we need
to understand the most
(and here we come to meet
our seeming nemesis).

Yet could it be a daemon
(oh, purity of such creative form!)
not yet quite within angelic form
that seeks to speak within these realms
that dream themselves entirely alive?
(If so, what muse has entered in
to speak within our dreams
in a form so intimate and utterly inviting?)

Genderless, this voice that speaks
within our inner ear
(or is it multi-gendered?)
taking us to realms beyond all tears,
where life becomes much more
than wish or will could eer conceive.
(Surreal the feel of multileveled
life, where forms of flesh will float
succinctly and distinctly in this form
of matter opening unto itself)

For the moon is just beginning to allow
its vision to begin again
within the dark of night
calling us within its muted whispers
of rain and spirit falling up
to reach yet one more level
(evolving, oh great evolution
ascending without end
within the feel of our descent).

And mind is opening again
even as our hearts ascend
(back into the innocence
that only love can bring to be)
in life thats true to form . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/29/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1intorelationship.html0100644000274600007660000001412307702015234014570 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into Relationship

Into Relationship

I look at the world and the many faces
that seem so very different at first glance;
but then I feel the many traces of emotion
that bring us back into relationship.

They take a stance of courage
in their outward attitudes.
Yet in a breath, I smell the fear they feel;
hidden, oh so well, they think
behind the masks they wear.

Some turn the fear to anger,
getting high upon the surge
of power rising there inside
at their command.
And anger at times, can be necessity;
for it can light a fire that makes us move
and raise us from an apathy of sameness,
to keep the cycles turning and evolving.

Theyre married and theyre single,
in love or in a state of misery,
or hung in apathy that stems from habits
born within a constant repetition
of a norm that must destroy itself;
for the force of nature and all deity
insists it must be so.

They are of many nationalities and cultures,
all religions and all creeds,
at base, all seeking for a tone
of loving harmony.
They see extremes
of darkness and of light,
and think that they must choose
between the two;
and since the light of dawn feels
best to them within the shadowed depths
in which they dwell,
they choose it, and never dare experience
the gentleness that moon and starlight bring.

But too much light, or too intense,
obliterates the darkness
of the matter of this flesh we are.
And this is what our life is really all about -
a state of balance.

What good a life thats filled with only ash...?
Or particles that still cannot attain
a living harmony of unity
that might sustain us through it all
and yet remain the truth of our existence.

And so still, I will observe,
as I look at the world and the many faces
that seem so very different at first glance;
still feeling the emotion of it all
that brings us ever back into relationship
with all eternity yet once again...

? Michaelette ?

3/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1intotomorrow.html0100644000274600007660000000603507702021642013762 0ustar area51otbiz12 Into Tomorrow

Into Tomorrow

A curve in the road,
a bend of the path,
and still the fire burns;
fascinating eyes into
another state of being.

Just then, at this one point
of all release,
another miracle is born
to time and place;
and spaces open out
into the unimaginable.

Blessing now,
of miracles unfolding
within the course
of what most think
no more than just destruction.

Yet still, we feel
this crazy, crazy love;
and know it as the real
of all of freedom.

A curve,
one curve,
and at last
we travel on
into tomorrow...

? Michaelette ?

4/4/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1invisible.html0100644000274600007660000000421007702024023013151 0ustar area51otbiz12 Invisible

Invisible

Invisible, she lies beyond
the scope of minds imagining
awaiting truth of flesh and form
to bring her to awakening.

For she is love
so deep and true
that all you never knew
becomes the feel
of her reality
of touch.

She lays in trance
invisible to mortal eye
awaiting that one man
who sees her true...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1isee.html0100644000274600007660000000365107702024310012121 0ustar area51otbiz12 I See

I See

I seek that space
where I reflect myself alone again
for never have I yet to find
an other that could do that true
except in lands of wispy make-believe

For you have gone away from me again
and I thank the heavens yet that still
I am, and free again at last
to reflect on all the beauty
that I see...

? Michaelette ?

4/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1isitreal.html0100644000274600007660000000717607702020362013021 0ustar area51otbiz12 Is It Real

Is It Real?

Is it real or is it just hallucination?
Are those fever spots
that float before my eyes,
or really tiny suns
that rise and orbit just for me?

A soul is frying free and clear
unhindered by the atmosphere
where functions of the mind
are left behind to those
who blind themselves with mediocrity.

And so, a niche lies empty,
waiting only for its occupant.
When will the wanderer repent
and spend some time at home?

Yet still, within this shell,
a sense of being dwells;
floating, as if in an endless void.
And this emptiness is darkness
in the incubation of all light.

Shadows within shadows,
mystifying mortal eyes,
when first the lies begin
to come undone.

Is it real or is it just hallucination?
Fever burns the dross away
and all that stays
is all we truly need
to find our way back home
again for good...

? Michaelette ?

2/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1itselfinform.html0100644000274600007660000000471107702023271013700 0ustar area51otbiz12 Itself In Form

Itself In Form

Honor, duty, compensation
when is that well take the time
to truly love again.
And what, if not the feel of love
have we been living for...?

Life goes on, goes by;
the years become
no more than alibis,
in place of all the love
we could have shared along the way -
if only we believed it to be true.

And based our choices
ever present
just on this -
the love of all that is
that surely must
flow through itself in form...

? Michaelette ?

4/1/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1itspeak.html0100644000274600007660000000532007702022516012635 0ustar area51otbiz12 Its Peak

Its Peak

A child - oh, most precious mystery.
Angelically, the light shines through
this form that you have chosen to reveal,
bringing heaven down to earth again.

(Why then, do swords of men
still seek to slay thee...?
And how defend the boundaries
when one is left alone...?)

If ever understanding
rose to reach its peak,
then surely it must lie within
the utter beauty of the form
of your creation.

But what then of descent...?
For surely we are falling once again,
into the darkness of all matter,
as feelings echo out again
within your utter mystery
of form...

? Michaelette ?

4/8/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
 Take me home... 1justhiseyes.html0100644000274600007660000000630707702021347013563 0ustar area51otbiz12 Just His Eyes

Just His Eyes

He sat beside me
caressing me with just the love
he held within his eyes
(reflected beauty, twice as true).
Sunlight sang through particles of air
so warm for such an early day in spring.

The pigeons crooned, an echoing,
of past mistakes undone.
A tone that spoke the miracle
of doves just taking flight
in the harmony of one true love
that recreates itself eternally.

I saw him, yet he really wasnt there.
Yet he seemed more real
than any man Ive ever known
in mortal form.
and the sweetest love
became reborn within.

A glance, a dance,
a moment of completion.
Love shining bright
for an eternal instant.
A visionary image
of the magic I once found
in just his eyes...

? Michaelette ?

4/9/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1justintime.html0100644000274600007660000000627607702021354013402 0ustar area51otbiz12 Just in Time

Just in Time

Past vision opens out into tomorrow;
spring arriving just in time
to turn the tides of winter blues
into these hues of changing atmosphere.

The sun burns bright and warm
right through the cool of Northern winds
ascending and descending
in the nature of all innocence.

The grass has turned into that green
that often takes a breath away
returning it enhanced within a breeze
of living memory that seeks
its essence in the moment now.

A scent of earth
still damp and moist
from all the melted snow
awakens and enlivens every step
upon this path we choose to tread
and treading, seek to mend and heal
the many wounds that winter
brought to bear.

Just in time
the love arrives
again...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1justtobe.html0100644000274600007660000000641207702021221013027 0ustar area51otbiz12 Just To Be

Just To Be

Reflection of reflections,
dream within all dreams come true;
streams that endlessly delight
sensation in its flight to ecstasy.

Particle responding to another particle
of pure and utter being that can touch;
do we really ask too much of life
to be just this, this utter bliss
for which we were created?

I have roamed the realm of souls
now long departed, searching for
the answer to this endless question
of all life; where invisibly each
particle we are, must learn to speak.

Ive questioned and Ive queried
every mind that I can find,
be it of now in form or of a past
and future ever joined in unity;
and all that I have gleaned is this:

We are and must continue just to be
this endless kiss of all eternity...

? Michaelette ?

5/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1laborpains.html0100644000274600007660000000757507702020014013334 0ustar area51otbiz12 Labor Pains

Labor Pains

How was it that I knew
so long ago
within my youth of innocence
of the agony that Christ himself
once felt upon that cross
of his own making...?

Composed of all the cruelty
and endless thrusting lust
of mind less heart
that the masculine
alone and unadorned
has tried to make
into reality itself...?

Do you think I am deceived...?
by the flesh of femininity
that you een now cling to
(in absentia, is that the term?)
for all the base and baseless things
you say and do...?

Do you think I wish continuance
within the smothering I find
within the arms of your embrace...?

Then think yet once again, my friend
for I am free, and ever will be
beyond your reach until you feel
the labor pains once far withheld
from you by the females in your life
yet it is just these budding fields
of misty femininty that speak
and now must be the course
of your re-deliverance
to flesh and form...

? Michaelette ?

3/31/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1ladyofthenight.html0100644000274600007660000001337307702015402014211 0ustar area51otbiz12 Lady of the Night

Lady of the Night

Did you know then, lady of the night
that for every body part you touched
and allowed to once touch you,
a price is paid by you -
higher, deeper, more significant
than the fees of man
can ever come to pay?

The night is dark and damp.
Not many come outside to play
on such a night as this.
So you wander from that corner
that you normally inhabit out of habit,
in search of fun or friends
yet find that none are near.

For this is the night you walk alone
and dare to find yourself again;
within a sense of starlight streaming down
just as the stormy clouds begin to break apart,
and one lone star looks down on you
tonight and sees you true.

Tears, unasked and uninvited
swell within your eyes
(so full of starlight now).
Within the breeze, humidity
melts open every pore
to set you free from every seed
you ever took into yourself.

Opening, you close again,
this time perhaps for good.
One tear drop falls, and then another
and love comes falling down
into the very essence of your being,
while the heavens open out -
this time for you and you alone.

An angel whispers, "Take my hand
and come, my child, fly with me;
that I may bring you beauty quite unaided,
earthly and magnificent at once,
within a feel of great significance
made real."

Unknowingly and unafraid,
she reached to grasp the angels hands.
Within a blink, the world she had known
was gone without a trace of ever being.
And she was flying free.

The morning paper only mentioned
an unidentified female body found in an alley,
while the knife that pierced her heart
and the hand that held it,
remain at large - very likely
to strike again in time...

? Michaelette ?

4/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1letspartytonight.html0100644000274600007660000000550707702022231014622 0ustar area51otbiz12 1letspartytonight

Lets Party Tonight

Lets party tonight
till the moon goes to sleep
and silently dreams our release
into the silky hues of indigo
where starlight glows, enticingly
up in the skies and here in me
as I trip into the lightning of your eyes.

For I know beyond a doubt
the alibis that we have lived,
and long to give my everything to you
to do with as you will in loving ways;
beginning with a swirl and sway
that breathes new energy to life.

Lets party tonight
till the moon goes to sleep
begetting its dreams once again,
for love is flowing all around
to ease us through the ground
of all reality . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1letspartytonight_htmle.htm0100644000274600007660000000545307702022315015642 0ustar area51otbiz12 Lets Party Tonight

Lets Party Tonight

Lets party tonight
till the moon goes to sleep
and silently dreams our release
into the silky hues of indigo
where starlight glows, enticingly
up in the skies and here in me
as I trip into the lightning of your eyes

for I know beyond a doubt
the alibis that we have lived
and long to give my everything to you
to do with as you will in loving ways
beginning with a swirl and sway
that breathes new energy to life

Lets party tonight
till the moon goes to sleep
begetting its dreams once again
for love is flowing all around
to ease us through the ground
of all reality . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 MLR Enterprises
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1lifegoeson.html0100644000274600007660000001656107702014470013340 0ustar area51otbiz12 Life Goes On

Life Goes On

Did you think that it was angels then...?
Filling the skies with awesome light,
rippling in multi-colored hues of pure delight;
etched across the blue in hues
of unending hints and tints and tinctures;
moving like a movie without end -
and life goes on.

Magically, we condescend ourselves
in concentrated power of all form,
to walk a while upon a path
that always leads to somewhere else;
as vistas of each space and place
are impressed within our soul;
and so we grow, without expansion
passing and surpassing time
and space within our wanderings -
and life goes on.

Mystically, we see it all again
as past and future meet
(just there, around each bend),
in the wake of passing ferries
on that river running without end.
Sun glistening in scintillating majesty,
as sparkling sprites dance moisture
to a state of titillating urgency -
and life goes on.

We turn, as they did then and will again
to see the shadows fading in and out,
aligned and tuned to every mood
that light and dark can bring;
seeing more than ever
we had known could be beheld,
for spirit dwells in every particle -
and life goes on.

How incessantly we come to know
the whole in such small increments!
Ever evolving while staying the same;
untamed, instinctual and free,
at every point, just where we need to be:
touched, unseen, from any angle
as if an errant angel chose
to encircle us within its wings -
and life goes on.

And oh! The grace and glory streams
right through the breadth and width
as height begins to take a dive within;
for divinity must know it all this well -
the burst and then the quelling,
the brash and the indwelling sacristy,
that reaches out again to live itself -
and life goes on.

Forever found in each and every
particle of length in chains of time;
forming and reforming everlastingly
behind, ahead, beyond, within;
each particle that spins itself alive,
dancing in the wake of pure intake -
and life goes on.

Shall we have another round
of joint applause . . . ?
Or shall we pause for just a moment
treasuring the precious nature of it all,
watching as we stream ourselves
to pure and utter individuality of being.
As we grow our wings and learn again
to fly right through those skies
of all eternity . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1lifeitself.html0100644000274600007660000000534107702022464013330 0ustar area51otbiz12 Life Itself

Life Itself

My faith was always
in my heart.
Even as a wee, small child
who felt her faith within
the very source of all of being -
neither masculine nor feminine
yet rather both at once.

Even then my soul refused
to focus on an image
of a man upon a cross in agony,
or a wise old man that sits
in impotence upon some throne,
invisible and distant.
And still, I seek to rise above
the suffering the masculine
denies within himself.

I am the misty vision of your soul
come true into the real of life itself -
but where are you...?

? Michaelette ?

4/10/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1lifessyllabus.html0100644000274600007660000001116007702016633014060 0ustar area51otbiz12 Lifes Syllabus

Lifes Syllabus

We search for words to aid us in our quest for understanding.
Too often, though, our gathering of words is not enough.
For each phrase that we create is rearranged somehow in its reception;
tones sinking far too deep within an altering recognition,
changing what they greet as they themselves are being changed.

Past and future meet just then, within one ever-living moment;
shape-shifting in continuing and multi-colored hues of moods.
Wide-ranging is the introspection found within an opening out
as a spectrum of pure colors synthesize the all around
back into a single, solitary, unique and extraordinary particle.

Dancing just as it assumes a salient shape that moves in space,
intertwining with another in the movement of all time;
shining brighter than the nebulae that fill the early nighttime skies.
Concentrically, it rings around the center of all being,
magnetized into a whirling pool of effervescent energy.

Spiraling then, it moves and blends as if it were advancing,
while ever moving further yet away from its conception;
within a hazy maze and diving deep into adventuring,
while drifting ever higher up its spiraling eternity of form;
where matter always being born defies each instant of a sudden death.

Further yet along the matrix, moves a syllable of uttered tone;
within a zone that seems to know itself so well, it swells,
like waves that move in giant tides, beckoning and wise;
speaking in such welling tones to all that dare behold it seem
to sparkle there while beating back the cliffs of all indifference.

Tone into a syllable, mix and match, another word ascends
and then a never-ending flow begins to write itself of air,
whispering through leaves of trees and grass that sways
and plays within this gifted tapestry of life that holds itself,
reaching out again to hold all else within a misty grasp.

The searched for finally found, these living strings astound
entering and leaving in a mountain of deep meaning,
that climbs itself to reach the peak, and peaking,
then must speak the words aloud within the clouds
as this quest for understanding is fulfilled beyond and yet within
imagination dreaming every thing within a syllabus of form . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/7/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1lightofheart.html0100644000274600007660000001140107702016462013655 0ustar area51otbiz12 Light of Heart

Light of Heart

Faded pictures, memories
how brightly they can play
upon a soul in need
of more than what
the present moment offers.

Memories of loving days
when energy would play its way
in rhythmic pitch and tone
changing everything
we thought we knew;

When spirit flew so free
upon a windless night
that birds would watch
in wonder of our flight
existing in one moment
out of time.

A phrase, a poem, an image then
replete in amplitude
of emotions we have felt and feel
but have learned to disregard
arise again just when the stars
come alight again within the skies.

Some seek to smother
under cover of a night in indigo
this very breath of life
we have been granted
seeking to avoid the fall
that takes them deep
into themselves again;

As beginnings without end
still spin the tale of life evolving
utterly revolving and responding
to the need that we deny
until we fly back to the arms
of love that heals again;
just there - within the realms
of spirit soaring.

Where love is born
of each emotion
brought into the light
of heart again -
for heart is true...

? Michaelette ?

4/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . .
  1lightofnightdivine.html0100644000274600007660000001004207702017601015056 0ustar area51otbiz12 Light of Night Divine

Light of Night Divine

Oh light, of night divine
come to me now
I hunger deeply for your touch
and to feel the blessed peace
that you instill

This night is deep
for the moon is shrinking
back into herself alone
where mortal eyes unaided
simply fail to comprehend
her totality of tantalizing mystery

She reaches, and she draws
all souls into herself
for the magic that she seeks to work
at darkest tides must ride the whitest mare
through all distance

Time itself, suspends its pace
to glimpse a crystal trace
of what she plans
as she creates a future
never known before

An open door, a veil lifting
magnetized, desire holding
slowly swells through all of being
and silence swells into her tides
now coming low yet pulling hard
for they too, desire to know
the greater truth

Oh light, of night divine
come to us now
within a gentle feel
of understanding
as we open
to your wisdom
once again...

? Michaelette ?

4/14/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1litigiousattitudes.html0100644000274600007660000001331207702015444015136 0ustar area51otbiz12 Litigious Attitudes

Litigious Attitudes

Litigious words of argument
speak in terms of wrong and right
afraid to center in the flight
of changeable occurrence,
to reach the dizzy, dazzling heights
that breach the mind-warped
rules of their creation.

Yet the real of our lives
is forever in motion,
dreaming every scheme
into our minds reality;
then out again into a theme
so utterly in need of just one sense
of its deliverance to ecstasy.

Contracts and reprisals
shame and an uprising depth
of self-esteem that sinks only to rise
so high above what we once knew,
that every disapproval turns
itself into acceptance once again;
just when control gives up its fight
and spirit takes to flight within the night.

Here stars are born to shine themselves
into the very heart of all that matters,
just at the molten core of all creation,
residing at the center of all form.
While the earth and all her satellites respond
within one soul that must compose it all:
the mind and then the matter
and the sense of blue that shatters
every feeling of security.

As we move beyond the bonds of what we knew
into a lighted indigo of never-ending hues,
that reach metalically through beams
alit in glowing ambiance of soul;
awakening in everything
that seemed most void of innocence -
just as we are reborn yet again.

As all that feels itself to be too much
is equalized within its counterpart;
religiously disproving every hint
of the litigious attitudes and moods
that know of only right or wrong
and never come to sing a song
in harmony.

For left or right prevails in division,
but now the veil has been removed
and eyes behold another view
that sings in moods
of utter symmetry . . .

? Michaelette ?

1/26/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1livingevolution.html0100644000274600007660000000675107702020634014442 0ustar area51otbiz12 Living Evolution

Living Evolution

Whiter yet, the light expands
into each hue of color,
distinguishing the sameness
and the difference of it all.

We rise and fall within an oceanic scene,
knowing nothing of the theme of endings;
to expend instead, the energy
that speaks of all existence.

Mind rebels, yet will is spent,
while arches bent on our deliverance,
open out into a sky so blue
our every mood is found to be
no more than an illusion.

Time and space are retrospective,
tuned into the past,
if only nanoseconds old;
yet we are taught that this
is truly all there ever is to be.

While whiter yet, the light expands
into the swirling hues of innocence,
accepting all within
an ever- changing atmosphere,
until all that we once held as dear
reappears again in greater glory.

As all that we are meant to be
once again becomes our destiny,
and living evolution travels on . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/28/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1lonelighthouse.html0100644000274600007660000000665307702020743014240 0ustar area51otbiz12 Lone Lighthouse

Lone Lighthouse

One lone lighthouse stands
exposed to all the elemental storms;
there, at a tip of peninsular land
beaming a light of survival
through all the tempests
born of changing seasons.

One man, alone now, tends to this
miraculous pure beam of singularity
imbibing in the spirits of the night;
for his wife had passed into eternity
and all the love he ever felt,
yet never found a way somehow
to share with her in his expression,
flashes with those beams of light
oer oceans and then on into the heavens.

He swears, at times, he sees her there -
mistily, as in a waking dream.
He reaches out, but only finds
a touch of warm, moist air
responding to his need and his desire;
and yet somehow, her loves reborn
inside of him again
within a bright and flashing fantasy
of memorys arrival.

Lone, the man and house and light
live on...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1lostbetween.html0100644000274600007660000001731407702014373013540 0ustar area51otbiz12 Lost Between

Lost Between

Lost between two points of concentration.
Pulled in this direction and then that,
as level upon level, every instance
opens out into forever,
mending and amending all weve known
of masculine and feminine in opposition;
just as the sun comes round to warm
the dark side of the moon.

Yet still, it all comes down to this -
the many loves that seemed so true
and yet withdrew within the light of day.
I wonder how the days and nights
will ever fit together,
while all I seem to say and do
as yet is bent on this priority.

For love that seems so lost must surely
somewhere wait within the wings
of hearts that sing themselves to life again;
while all I am is bent into a rainbow arching
there within your eyes, just when
you take the time to look in mine.

And depth responds in resonance
willing and demanding loves release,
rising in the sweetness and the glory of all dawn;
and I, a fawn, at last can see
in wide-eyed innocence the beauty born
as liquidly, this love falls down
within a mist and mystery of being.

We reach for something, someone
always seemingly just out of reach.
Is this merely just a carrot dangling
in front of an instinctual need for love?
Run, oh run, majestically -
instinctually surrendering to movement
that must flow itself unknowingly into completion.

I close my eyes and memories
repeat themselves again, as dizzying,
the sights and sounds and scents of you
just seem to bleed their way right back into
this dwelling of my being.
Here too, I cannot help but come upon
the deep of childhood devotion once again.

When, sacred and mysterious,
I knew beyond a doubt that somewhere,
somehow, deity existed;
yet now, religious concepts seem to blister
and to burn my very soul to ash,
for I have come to understand the deeper need
of harmony and resonance within a life
too oft denied within the blind of those beliefs.

While something other issues
from the core of all I am,
demanding a new attitude
to soothe the many moods
that seem to hold me back
from a deliverance from pain;
while all that yet remains
so unresolved within my life,
commands a vast amount of my attention.
and a deep and lasting intuition
now consumes me - telling me
that destiny is not about forgetting.

Lost between the points of two extremes
that ultimately know each other all to well,
and thus emotions swell into a wave
of love that never can be spent at all,
as we learn to fly and gratefully, to fall
again into this grand and ultimate reality
of love, that heals us all . . .

? Michaelette ?

3/1/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1loveisborn.html0100644000274600007660000000412607702024110013352 0ustar area51otbiz12 Love Is Born

Love Is Born

Divine, this fire of desire
burning through my flesh.
Is it heavens bliss,
or might it be
the ever-living flames of hell,
returned to burn in me?

The bride descends from up above.
Moist, the satin lips of flowers opening,
dew covering the walls of her exposure;
just as the groom moves to ascent
all in one movement of eternity,
when love is born within reality...

? Michaelette ?

3/25/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1lovesinsanity.html0100644000274600007660000000546007702022305014105 0ustar area51otbiz12 Loves Insanity

Loves Insanity

Heart rising to its highest power
transforming ice into a waterfall
sultry now, the embers gleam
as feeling streams into reality

Passion flows, unmitigated
by the time or place
so simple and so beautiful
that heartbeats race into
a zone of utter timelessness

Where rainbows dance
in summer skies of blue
and waterfalls come
gently rushing down
upon just two

Two in one who meet
within the moon
to join within a letting go
of loves insanity
to find forever in a dream
of working everything
into this love...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1lustforlife.html0100644000274600007660000000353007702024367013542 0ustar area51otbiz12 Lust for Life

Lust for Life

We lust for life
and for experience;
fear gripping us in essence
of a future still unknown.
And even still, desire burns,
unsated by the used to be.

Divinity of flesh, how sweet,
to feel your adoration.
Yet how much sweeter still would be
the touch of our completion...

? Michaelette ?

4/1/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1maturation.html0100644000274600007660000001103607702017000013351 0ustar area51otbiz12 Maturation

Maturation

Love itself matures within these cycles
of all natural creation;
where oceans of emotion
run in tides and cycles of the moon.
So ill-attuned with all the rush and push
that modern man has deemed
his life to be:  no more than speed.

Here every step we take becomes
another newly risen point of no return
no matter memories we may have gathered
for ourselves along the way.
Be they of pain or ecstasy, they must disperse
within the mists of utter being

But then, just as with fear,
these feelings flee,
to wander far from home.
Until sunlight dawns
within a sphere
of ever brightening awareness.

Oh, the pull of tides
controlled yet by the moon,
that seeks no more
than just to croon
of loving days and ways;
before the sun began to burn
the mists of our creation far away.

Yet spring is risen once again
beyond the dullness and the pain
of icy winters spent in isolation;
and once again it rises in a flood
of great emotion.

Just when the hour of our initiation
comes to be another note
within the ever changing chords
of mystery and history.

And love matures,
becoming endless cycles
of the known of all unknowing
feeling now, its way into all life...

? Michaelette ?

3/30/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1meaculpa.html0100644000274600007660000000605107702021613012763 0ustar area51otbiz12 Mea Culpa

Mea Culpa

I wander now on distant shores
alone and unforgivingly inviting;
where waves become the turbulence
of all the feeling that you left me with
and I repent within an innocence
of natures wrath.

Mea culpa, life goes on
no matter that our state of mind
clings in desperation to a past
that never knew of love at all.

Thankfully, the wondering has ceased
for the winds that sail in ancient rounds
speak again of all that will abound
if only we hold on until tomorrow
when with the dawning light of life divine
we cease to struggle with our destiny.

Mea culpa, life goes on
no matter that our state of mind
clings in desperation to a past
that never knew of love at all.

And distant shores, are calling, calling
just for me...

? Michaelette ?

4/20/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1meaninglessechoes.html0100644000274600007660000000472707702023246014704 0ustar area51otbiz12 Meaningless Echoes

Meaningless Echoes

You say I love you
merely in a tone
caught in wires
of insignificance
or perhaps you write it
in the sense
of electronic wonder.

Meaning thus is lost
within the science and mechanics
that have never found the feelings
of this love itself in flesh and form;
this feeling that alone will bring
our love alive again within reality.

Meaningless - this chord
composed of only echoes
of the love that we once knew
as truth itself...

? Michaelette ?

4/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1meltdown.html0100644000274600007660000002116007702014171013024 0ustar area51otbiz12 Meltdown

Meltdown

This aftermath of you at last expands
within a single reprimand, that says:
"No more."
You were so sure your sickly sweet
and showy, slow-grown southern
ways would charm another path
to lead you back into my life.

But all the walls are melting down;
and no one can stop this chance,
this dance conceived within
the happenstance and aftermath
of your decisions.

Your desperation reeks of schemes
so secretive that you yourself could
never dream of all the consequences.
I watch now, as you take
the true experiences we shared
and divide within your separation
all that once was whole, tearing
love to bits and pieces as you
try to justify the unjustifiable;
thereby destroying the very
love you claim to share.

Now all the walls are melting down;
and no one can stop this chance,
this dance conceived within
the happenstance and aftermath
of your decisions.

Time moves on, inexorably increasing,
moving you further and further away,
and I can do nothing but to aid
the effort; for to try to keep you near
would be to destroy all that I have
built my life upon. I simply cannot
agree to the destruction of this love
that I still live for.

For all the walls are melting down;
and no one can stop this chance,
this dance conceived within
the happenstance and aftermath
of your decisions.

The seeds you left inside of me
are dead; already theyve begun
their necessary transformation
into something other than what
they were. I feel their great need,
and to this I must respond, for their
death is not welcome in my being,
this flesh created in patterns of
rebirth.

Now all the walls are melting down;
and no one can stop this chance,
this dance conceived within
the happenstance and aftermath
of your decisions.

You are yours, and I am mine again;
and this is just how it must be, for you
made the choice to make it so; and
so it will be, at every level, in every
realm whether you ever choose
to understand it or not.

If you feel a great sadness come
and wrap itself around you, know
that it is yours to bear; for I have
born more than my share of this
undeniable essence of your suffering.
When you seem to be attacked by
a rage that cannot be endured; take
its energy and use it to move on,
knowing you have drawn it to yourself
for a reason.

Now all the walls are melting down;
and no one can stop this chance,
this dance conceived within
the happenstance and aftermath
of your decisions.

And when at last, again you feel
a longing for the comfort and
completeness of the love that we
once shared, only then may you
think of me again. And I will be
there, in the wind, still loving you...

? Michaelette ?

5/5/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1mindandflesh.html0100644000274600007660000000641207702021236013632 0ustar area51otbiz12 Mind and Flesh

Mind and Flesh

Underlying springs of power
emote themselves within the might
of this tapestry we've come
to know as being; for each
moment of the present is
etched indelibly within a weave
of infinite variety - to please
divinity within awareness.
Here each ideal of consciousness
becomes replete and must move on
to more and more of what each life
is truly based upon.

For all we are inside begins
to open out into the melting
boundaries that never really
had a place within our lives at all;
but waited, oh so patiently
for this understanding to reveal
the underlying springs
that power us all to finally rise
and reach for realms
where mind and flesh
become just one
in loving ecstasy. . .

?Michaelette ?

1/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take Me Home... 1morpheus.html0100644000274600007660000001245007702015761013045 0ustar area51otbiz12 Morpheus - God of Dreams

Morpheus
(God of Dreams)

Essence of all form and shape,
lying deep within each healing;
crystallizing in these forms we are -
awakening just as surrender
of the ego and the intellect
completes itself within the indigo.
(Where do you go when sunlight
floods our eyes into their opening?)

Hidden in the brightness of all rays
that seem to be so separate; until
we seek and find this one pure level
where it all abides as one: the waking
and the sleeping that become reality
within our dreams at last come true.

For this dream is real, the trance dissolving;
veils lifted lightly up within a breeze and
breath of ever-opening completion; and
we are here, within each particle of flesh
composing this, one mortal form that
seeks to blend each separate thing into
a whole again.

The how, the when, the what, the where -
tis these that were surreal! For now the why
of all that lives commands within its presence
that we move beyond those blind beliefs
of mortal vs. immortality; that purgatory of
the in between that just one book, ill-written
at the best, has brought to be; yet now demands
beyond all will or want or gross desire to be
heard and understood. (Oh spirit, authoring
itself again into existence!) For this truly is
our answer, undivided by a need for power
or controlling attitudes that seem to come
from lack self-esteem; yet eer insist we
reach again, to find the peak that is our destiny.

Seek yet one more time, if e'er you wish
to find transcendence of the battles waged
oer ages of those thoughts that must dissolve,
become mere blood the earth devoured within
the eons of her peacefulness those the old and
stale wars of intellect that seeks the power of a mind
that never came to know its heart as real: and thus
created mortal versus immortality.

Climb yet one more time to yet another peak
where this transcendence starts to rhyme
and sing itself in rhythms of a harmony sublime,
from just one point that opens out in every thing;
waiting for us all beyond duality of human nature
and adversity itself. Then come back into
yourself, as Morpheus reborn and more; now
absorbed and still absorbing this great power
of the realm of dreams, centered in one love
that must forever come be the truth of all...

? Michaelette ?

6/04/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1movingon.html0100644000274600007660000000372707702024264013044 0ustar area51otbiz12 Moving On

Moving On

She faded out of sight around a bend
walking then upon a winding road.
Up and up the path she traveled
wound just as her focus lifted her
to other realms where
gods and daemons dwell;
and she became her living soul
complete and undivided
from the core, the source
of lifes creative energy...

? Michaelette ?

4/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1movingoutforgood.html0100644000274600007660000000620607702021436014610 0ustar area51otbiz12 Moving Out for Good

Moving Out for Good
(a housewifes lament)

It all got sick and twisted up
somewhere along the way -
those familial relationships
that used to bring such love
into our lives.

I sit here now, alone,
and feel no more than just a sense
of loves abandonment,
that leaves me weak
without a sense of worth
to see me through.

I know not what to do now
that you say our life together
is no more...
...the doors are closed,
the lights are out,
the walls are moving in...

Everything that I have been
was always based on you
and what I thought I must become
to be a parent, too.
Yet now nobody seems to need
the many things I have become,
and the meaning that I used to find
within the tasks of everyday -
for it all walked out the door with you.

Ive tried to just go on and see it through,
but nothing is the same.
I move, I speak, I play the social games.
But to what aim, if not for you...?
...the doors are closed,
the lights are out,
the walls are moving in...

Was it only then
some form of sick dependency...?
That took the place of all the love
Id dreamed of as I grew.
Ive followed all the rules and now,
Im left within an emptiness
that screams itself awake
inside of me.

I grope, I grasp, I seek to see,
within the density this darkness brings;
but nothing seems to move
except the walls,
moving in as shadows speak;
and all I see is you again -
still moving out for good...

? Michaelette ?

3/15/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1mustbeheard.html0100644000274600007660000001665507702014444013516 0ustar area51otbiz12 Must Be Heard

Must Be Heard

How many have stood in this place
I stand now, or walked down
the length of these halls?
Do they feel me now,
as I seem to feel them...?
As Ill be felt by someone else tomorrow -
vestiges of one another, past and future
meeting at a seeming
solitary point in time and space.

Invisible as air, we move together -
all that ever dared to just be here -
while echoes whisper silently
of every day and age in words
that have no clarity of definition,
in stages of an ever growing evolution.

Startling, the revelation of us all,
so much more than touching close,
as we fall into each other unaware;
and all we used to think we were
becomes a blur of passing images,
never quite suspended or exceeded
yet alwasy really there
imparting truth.

The spirit of the earth will always be
soul speaking, at first no more than just
a silent whispering of solitary words,
growing then in increments
into the howling of the fiercest storm,
until we warm into its understanding,
knowing only this:
It must be heard.

Listening, we see it all in utter clarity.
The tree that used to be itself complete,
where now a car is parked.
Wildflowers singing in a breeze.
just where we sleep and take our ease.
The burbling spring that used to stream
right through these halls of stone
still sings its living symphony.

Yet how many of them ever truly knew . . .?
the glory of the sun arising golden everywhere,
or heard its shadows speaking in the night,
where starlight burns another path
that leads beyond imagining
into the splendor of forevers dawn of life.

The mists there rising oer the pond -
do they know that they are part
and parcel of a greater body...?
Mere particle of dream within a dream,
that grows beyond all scope and distance,
hint of all that was and seed
of all that might now come to be.

Generations wandering like bards,
singing themselves back to life again;
bringing ancient wisdom to the fore
where more and more, we come to see
the story of all future glory,
happening again and still, right now.

I reach and there you are,
startled, just as I, into a pause;
and we look into each other,
seeing through and through,
merging into yet another
hint of unity.
Knowing only this:
we love, and that the wisdom
of our hearts insists
it must be heard . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/17/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1myself.html0100644000274600007660000000421007702024025012466 0ustar area51otbiz12 Myself

Myself

I woke this morning
free at last
of all your expectations.

What joy abounds
when life is found
to be reborn again.

Breathing easily,
a sense of silence
cradles me.

Release, relief,
a letting go.
I am myself again...

? Michaelette ?

3/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1mysteries.html0100644000274600007660000003244007702013516013224 0ustar area51otbiz12 Mysteries

Mysteries

A general sense of discontent
was left just hanging in the air
surrounding everyon
within that place.
Disgruntlement was evident
as if that very space
were so unhappy that
it wished that it could
scream itself aloud.

Emotions, ill-repressed,
were hovering in corners,
hiding under desks and in the vents
that ought to freshen up the air.
At times, she heard a silent sigh,
so loud it seemed the walls
would simply open up and cry.

And there they were - the automatons -
pretending not to have a clue
of the depth of all they felt into
that space, that place, the time
that they so fully occupied
with the very particles
of their disclosures/

They strapped the angel
to a chair, electrically enhanced,
to try to make her dance in tune
with antiquated runes whose tone was flat;
but as she tried to live their alibis,
in place of all the many truths shed learned,
her skin begin to burn as muscles spasmed,
and shook her frame so violently, she wept;
even as a scream was held in secret isolation,
incubating, waiting, nourishing, awaiting
a coming day of imminent release.

Memories of times before all time
built into a daze of pain that blocked
the path of true perception she had held,
and just where all the grace of love had dwelt,
a void that felt no more than just the numb
that icy climbs of heartless mind will bring,
chambered off the heart of hearts
from this cold place of mortal inability;
even as a fiery heat found fuel to be burned.

And so she burned for days
(or was it weeks and months unending?)
suspended there, without the strength to move;
fighting for the dignity of her integrity,
refusing to give in or to give out.
Rigidly, she laid within a statue-like repose,
frozen in the moment, just like them;
but from the stem of all she was
a heat of spirit spoke its warmth
without a single word,
and tiny streams began to work
their way throughout her form again,
stopping at each blockage and each bruise,
massaging gently, lovingly each and every cell
that swelled with an immensity of painful interludes;
as spirit moved back into form
the ground of all enlightenment.

So she flew, as only angels can
into a realm that many never come to apprehend,
and strove to understand the gist of this -
another strain and type of mans experience -
engineered in drawing rooms
without an ounce of creativity,
following prefabricated rules
that never worked themselves aright,
even when they named and thus intoned
uncaring terms of rules and terms
of their legality in action.

Feelings bled through channels long forgotten
(remission, after all, is only temporarily available
and the measurement of incremental spans of time
has been set back by the intensity of mankinds
rude and crude, unaltered themes of death)
and all that was begotten by the word began to reel
within this feel of all it ever truly meant to be
just that to be.

She lived yet once again
(in more than any memory could speak)
those ancient days of earth and air and fire,
when the moisture captured by the earth
nurtured all of life into distinctive shapes
and forms of beauty, opening
so freely into all infinity,
that days and nights unmeasured
spent themselves within renewal,
without a sense of time or timelessness;
and began to mend the many wounds
that had kept her in suspension far too long.

She saw them all here -
those that chose the route of will and power,
who thought themselves the master
of the hours of their lives,
dwindling in particles of insignificance,
like grains of sand so easily demolished,
pressing here and there and clinging;
but forced by greater power
than they ever could invoke
to move beneath, within
a greater undertow of strength
that waves itself through oceans of eternity.

While further yet, she traveled on,
intuiting an answer waiting
just beyond the bend and bent of minds,
that only find divisionary tactics to apply
to the magnificence of each experience of life;
where a single blade of grass becomes it all -
not by will, or mind, or powered tactics -
but merely by believing in the strength
of its existence in a greater continuity
submitting for a moment
when a foot falls hard to earth,
but always re-arising
in full meaning and the worth
of roots that grow so deep,
man cannot keep its presence down.

So she floated, recognizing
every single, simple, living thing
as a string of life that plays itself in being;
and so she healed
so much more than just herself alone,
for the harmony of just this tone abounded,
awakening the world again
in healing mysteries . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1mysticblue.html0100644000274600007660000001164107702016313013356 0ustar area51otbiz12 Mystic Blue

Mystic Blue

Mystic blue, a feminine exposure,
there - just where the rain clouds
come to split themselves apart;
and fire and water seem to mesh
into a unity divine.

Initiation to the realms of mystery
has now begun;
beyond mere whim or will or want -
for mystic blue is speaking out
in tones that must be heard
and understood.

The many veils have been lifted,
blown away like gossamer,
unanchored in a midnight breeze,
enchantingly enticing soul to be
the essence of unknown reality
where visions play into our lives -
surreal and yet insistent -
through these channels
of all life in form.

The eagle blinks in understanding
just as the hawk suspends itself
upon a current of pure air;
and then the wolf, in silence
moves again to bring to bear
the feeling of security.

Clouds part,
the moon in fullness shines,
abiding beyond all mortality;
encompassing the mystery
of every sunlit dawn.
While there, the fawn is lying,
sleeping in a peace of innocence
that knows, without a thought,
the newborn paths that it must tread.

For the feeling of all fear
is being shattered, blown apart -
as from the ashes yet another
chance for understanding rises -
just at that point when all seems lost.

For mystic blue breaks through again,
uniting masculine and feminine,
that we might stand as one eternally...

? Michaelette ?

3/11/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1mysticsun.html0100644000274600007660000003423207702013434013236 0ustar area51otbiz12 Mystic Sun

Mystic Sun

A mystic sun began to rise inside
as darkness turned into immersion,
sinking back into the womb of earth itself.
One small, sad light was all it had
and this would have to see it
through, and yet still further out,
to will this time of gloom away
that loomed as if an ever-presence
within the history of life in time.
And yet it knew it must conceive
of life beyond the womb,
if ever it would really feel alive,
and essential to the feel of all reality.

Dark descent into the realm
of innocence taht came to claim
its place within this world, this form,
this ever-living storm of chaos, streaming
into the world of living matter,
was coming conscious even then.
And its weight and mass,
in gross accumulation,
had no room left to move or grow
within the soothing waters
of the womb of its containment.

It sought to rise, and yet it fell,
endlessly into the depth
of life in form;
for gravity had taken hold
and it felt a strange sensation then,
as muscles moved and flexed
for this time, when it moved its limbs
its spine began to tingle
in a rush of energy.
Yet still this light could not be seen
by eyes, nor mind, nor reasoning not yet,
so blindly it moved on into
the mass of the unknown that
seethes within extremities.

It could only flex for just so long
but as it did, its power grew
for its body and its spirit knew
that it must stand
straight and free and strong some day
if ever it would meet its destiny.
And the presence of its soul now came to know
the beginning of the feeling of this flesh
that it had chosen to become;
heavy and yet somehow too,
more real and meaningful
than anything that it had been before -
and so the learning had begun.

The darkness seemed so overwhelming then,
as in descent, first feelings of the flesh
became a sense of blockage and of pain;
but it moved on - for now its spirit knew
that only movement made it real.
Its focused goal - the living light
of all tomorrows.
It was thus the light became
more sure of its existence.

It struggled then, incessantly,
in bouts of strength and weakness.
Wanting this, desiring that,
yet faced with more than any one
could ever feel alone.
While somehow the warmth of womb
still flowed through cords of harmony,
as truly this one cord became
the need of severance and separation;
and thus its sense of imminent release
as more and more, it came to know
it was returning to itself somehow;
mysterious and free, but not quite yet.

This cord, this cord, its very life,
the only life it knew,
began to pull and bind and stop
the very quest for life that came about,
while still it sought its source of strength
within the womb that until now
was all that it had known, or ever
truly could be known
of the creativity of life itself.

And so descent - forcing now and straining
just to claim its right to its existence.
It crowned, and oh, that first experience
of air and light upon its head, its brow
another living moment of transition.
Yet still somehow, it knew it must go on,
for the peak of life is individuality of form
and this must issue through and through
each particle that was its form of life
Then came the first experience of cold,
for the feel of air just differed so
from the warmth of safe security
of the containment in the warmth
of womb and moisture.

Unconsciously, its quest was set
in realms of truth, that some may know
as spirit or of magic or of soul.
Invisible, this quest of unity
that needs no more to truly be
than just a human consciousness
to set it free upon the winds of time itself;
and more itself with every moment
that feels itself within infinity in flesh and form
And then a mighty push for life
(did it come from deep inside itself
or from some living other?),
and it all became amazing form,
yet it was dazed within a world
that seemed the essence of pure light.
Then the catch, for suddenly
the cord was quickly severed,
and all that it had known became
an unknown quest for its first breath
of freedom and of air,
that never had been offered it before
in such an unprotected form.

Just then, instead of giving out
it found the will to take it in -
this fire of the fuel of life within
a world of breath that would sustain
the very essence of the form
that it had come to be,
neither masculine or feminine,
not yet, for all it seemed to know
yet still, was as a particle that spun
itself within a greater whole.

Slowly then, with nurturance unasked,
it learned of light and all the power
that sight itself could come to be.
And its quest became to bring this light
of all eternity and life
further still into its mortal form.

And from this, a mystic sun
became the norm of indivisibility
that lives beyond the fear
of mere survival...

? Michaelette ?

3/22/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home... 1nakedly.html0100644000274600007660000001215707702016075012635 0ustar area51otbiz12 Nakedly

Nakedly

Nakedly, she sauntered through
the forest toward the spring
and came upon a glade of freshening,
where wild flowers grew into a ring,
uncovering the source of creativity
within a feel of natural wonder,
scenting every breath with hues
of color ever blooming.

She looked at the world
in crystal reflections,
opening out within each drop of light;
as pollen played its way into her life
impressing her spirit with flowered delight;
and flesh surrendered to this glow
merging in the flowing golden dawn,
just as a vestal virgin spawned
another veil of gossamer
to cover over all that was
most intimately known; and
another seed was sown within the sky.

She left footprints in the earthen tones.
Long, the grasses bending at her passing,
as the touch of gossamer stirred memories
and a longing deeper than all time to be -
free flying spirit once again upon the wind -
whispering a magic chant of great vibration
enlightening her yet further
to the meaning of all life.
And oh, the sight,
it was so clean and clear.

A fawn paused, to stare in wide-eyed innocence,
for the ancient had ascended now anew;
and everything it knew, became again,
as her wings of gossamer grew true
uplifting so much more than soul,
that all the pieces of the whole
began to dance,
there within the particles
that een now compose
her very flesh.

As nakedly, she sauntered through the forest,
and found the truth within the spring
of everything that is . . .

? Michaelette ?

2/27/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home . . . 1nearagain.html0100644000274600007660000001301207702015575013126 0ustar area51otbiz12 Near Again
Near Again

He lived within a tangled mess
of all the lies hed neer confessed
to anyone at all.
This time he took the fall alone
into his emptiness
deep into the abyss of his grief.

Sorrow there, and anger, rage
covering over all the fear
hed never faced at all.
Dark, the days of his capitulation
to that belief in death he held