Ode To A French Kiss

Beautifully rose painted lips press together to form that familiar symbol of love. As soft as the pedals they resemble, they seem to cry out and beg for companionship. As love itself is born from its own and gently makes request, to partake can only lead to the inevitable longing for more. No man could ever possess the strength to resist. A Kiss knows this, and as part-angel & part-devil, cannot help but captivate the lustful nature of a lucky fool. Hugged between flowery moments of bliss, such bright smiles could only hope to be outdone by the shine of the warm summer sun.

But you my dear, are the Queen; a royalty, a divinity, to which all other kisses bow down, and yet aspire to be. You are as brilliant and eligant as the tongue after which you are named, yet you are wherever love may be. Sweeter than sugarcoated honey, smooth and often softer than silk, you perpetually leave behind a hint of the essence of your lovelust that instantly conjures the unquenchable desire for your immediate return.

Some say you have magic about you. I say it is magic how you defy the constraints of time. You cause it to fly. You could make an eternity of an instant, and pass in a heartbeat. And it is by that very token that you are the soul of mystery. How obvious it is that you come from the heavens. You so nonchalantly disregard all the rules to which all else is made slave. Your illustrious nature outshines earthly things, as the moon outshines the stars.

Impossible to master, except by those lucky two, who possess hearts so overwhelmed by the thought of each other's presence that they lose themselves, but not one another, in the naturally flawless motions of such pristine moments. They might always seem to be over a little too quickly, except for those which, by nature, surely could only grace a pair of true lovers—they last forever—and the end is nothing, only the possibility of beginning.

One Tasty Toadstool

One tasty toadstool, of unimaginable size,
Has brought the world, and all the cosmos, right before my eyes.

Such clarity’s a rarity, and most just cannot see,
How in truth, we can in fact, hallucinate reality.

So listen and I’ll tell you, what I have come to know with pride,
All that I have learned, upon my magic carpet ride.

Well, the way you move in space, leaves behind a hidden trace,
Of the heart you hold inside, and not the shadows where you hide.
The souls of men, revealed in time, without a button to rewind,
Are you so confident to say, you know and love, what you will find?
How bright the light illuminates, from the puritanic soul,
Tell me friend, do you still glow, or have you lost what use to show?

With good intentions, science mentions, that religion is a lie.
But with science, there's reliance, on imperfect human eyes.
Sometimes some things aren't seen in sight, known only to the heart.
No metaphoric allegory, that's the truth, at least a part.
So open up, inside to see, what no-mind understands:
That the true nature of God, can be found within our hands.

There's music playing all around, just waiting to be found.
But it takes more than ears to hear, the beauty of the sound.

The saddest song that ever played: the one with all the answered laid,
But only to be seen as strange, just silly words all rearranged.