strings seemingly unrelated?

“Stream me, Poet”, says the words on the tip
in tongues forming, at the back of my mind
As yet inarticulate. In theory they reside,
Recalled when triggered or grasped by brightness
Conceived. They are in me seeking a voice.

Of obsidian he stands
In strengths embrace he holds
There I find I am complete.
Not in duality but in self,
Whole in spirit, whole in me.

Push pull I groove
Only knowing in the now
Soft smiles reach
Eyes of green
And cheeks blushed peach
Enjoying the reason for it.

Time is of the wanting
Time may come…
Settle your debts, your life,
But not your love…
Baby dear, be at peace
And know he’s near.

morning's poem, afternoon I am weary

And in the scheme of things
My darling brother, what,
What in retrospect really,
Really, what mattered?
I know you knew regrets
Whereas I have not.

It has all been just my story
Forming me in soft curves,
Harsh lines and a resilience,
(A perseverance?)
Most leave unmet, unlit.
They are sheep, happy
In their easy way that I
Find unworth living.

I think deep and smile
All the more bright and
Happy because of it.
I live like no other,
Celebrating the day
Of your demise as
The day of my living.

I am
Ever flowing forward,
One-hundred percent
Gloriously beautiful.
Living in the center
Of the sun where
The risk of burn licks
The hemming of my gown
Teasing as I smile
Gently, absently stroke
It’s muzzle soft and warm,
Coo to it softly in my
Soft Southern drawl.

I am
Home in the center
Of the sun where hues
In golden peach prevails
Soft and serene
Bright and giggly
Humming happily in the now.

I
Some things here are simply
Fiction found as soft
The dreamscape fades left
And twilight calls
In brightness dawning.
Some things here are simply
My soul in sweetness
Striving in articulations glare
As some things here are real.

II
Could have been his arms
More likely his mind but I
Was wrapped in safe solidity,
Safety solid of a smile and
Aura deep in royal velveteen
So jet the violet bled through.
He was all
Sparkly, warm.
And I,
Am fighting it.

Weakness so deep in despair
When I was four it was the wrongness
Of the world though then articulation
Was obscured by words as yet unmet.
Weakness so deep I weep
And regardless of its seeming triviality
I would take to keep for my own
The pain and hurt from those I love.
Weakness so deep it’s a joy
For loving strong and censured not
In passionate or emotional claim that
Any loss regret I not but honor know.
These weakness I admit as mine.

For me comes on
The night wind softly
Chill on fevered brow,
Thanos in the dreams
Of my youth so long
Ago seemingly since
I slept so deep.

Last night was two
Bullets to the brain
And I was sunk deep
In panic rising breaths
So shallow and searing
Pain at the skull’s base
But who could be so lost.

When Stevie Ray went
I knew when waking
Soft at peace after visions
Of blood flowing free
In warm water shallow
Leaving his girl waxen
In her broken English
“Is so unfair….”

Thanos’ hand possessive,
Comforting at spines base
As I turned from the grave.
And then…Tiny little O
Flowing from the pink
I mourned the night in
Passions keep and found
My release…Alone.