Tempest yearning

You and I,
a yearning
elusive and subtle
unrecognizable in a crowd of faces

You and I know
of a search with no beginning
with no ending
only the curse of time
and a penetrating need
within our core

The universe
is what we search for
when we touch
this close

Eyes to eyes
nose hovering nose
I can feel his breath moisten
my upper lip

These are such
uncontrollable yearnings
to be touched and held
that when we do

nothing else matters

A tempest will brew within me
and when you dance me
I will be saved
by your lips
your eyes
your everything

You and I,


When the moon arrives


When the moon arrives in all her glory,

an artist squirms disheveled in his Holland sheets,

Contemplates the rise of the next day.

At night, you see, is when those spirits

thirsty for art, mystery and good romance

turn the pages of their empty journal

without a concrete thought, a plan, a notion.

Some may call this kind of passion insomnia

but that who doesn’t rest knows

what deals are being made within their hearts

It occurs in life that many times

an adventurer is trapped between the clutch of his existence

and the reality suppressed within him.

It is at night, when everyone rests from their hell

that an artist contemplates his great escape

It is in the palm, in the reflection of the moon

that an artist finds

once more

his honor and purpose

Perhaps not today

perhaps not tomorrow

but some day, very soon

Melissa Taveras



Good for nothing,
No good
No show.

You came as quickly as you left,
you left as quickly as you first appeared.

You decipher the hearts of young, un withered souls and you seal the knot with just a look, or, just one word.

What you do not even you know.
You are so poor, so un tasteful.

Within the abyss
That is your home

And I
I am here.
And you
You are there.

Tomorrow will come and all those broken into pieces and rummaged like garbage will seize the victory of their hearts.

And you heartbreakers
Broken inside
Will be there
Way over there
In the shadows of the sun
Pleading, begging, desiring
That what once would of been
Could return