Pasomi Mucha Poems

Tell me how the boot tastes
O liker of, licker of boss-boots,
You who sullies the raise in praise,
Who puts the vile into servile,
...

May the day break,
not as the eggshell of
a slipped, fallen egg,
a smashed, sorry mess,
...

I met you, and now in my eye is a gleam,
And in my life now joy is a stream,
Awake and asleep alike, I dream,
Help me, O Lord,
...

Love.

What is it?
...

Let me ask in plain language,
So that we do not say,
I missed your query in the craft of your poesy.
...

Hie home, humble, hardy hummingbird,
Bearing blemishes born by bloody batterings, bullyings, bludgeonings.

Crude, cruel contrivers canvassing-for, creating concrete commons,
...

Closed were my closets,
Solidly were they secured,
For within were warehoused,
My skeletons,
...

Mmmm...
Keep sitting in your comfort zone,
Afraid of any unknown,
Afraid to try,
...

So, what's the colour of your love?
The earth brown where the love-seed fell and grew to a luxuriance of flowers, sweetness of fruit?
The blood red of hearts beating a vibrant tattoo consonant with true love?
The muddy, moss green of love sullied by possessive, obsessive jealousy?
...

To the man who, sadly, daily thinks,
That he, on earth, is of little worth,
With that thought, his spirit sinks,
And with other men, he loses links,
...