Please note:  All poems have been published with permission from their authors.  Aside from minor spelling errors, all poems remain unedited, as submitted.

Blooming under the rays of euphoria,
sweet consummation of guiding light
as the blossom of truth prevails,
immensely gliding forward,
breath taken by this blessed sight.
Silence radiates through the calmness
as two souls begin to intertwine
with the depth of timeless mates,
the emergence of a new KINGDOM,
the ceremony of sanctified fate.
She gave to him hers
as he gave to her his,
a perfect synchrony of the essential gift,
the divine attribute of infinite love.
And so they melt continuously into ONE......
The creation of ETERNAL UNISON.
 

Windowless brick walls erected by night
tempering the hazy borders of a fantasy
that is fellated by the homeless creatures
seeking shelter between surfaces of orgasm-
inducing splendour. A fountain of released
cockroaches crawling away on a quest
for survival and culture. Vermin of the world
confined in a tiny phallic cubicle of life;
nobody to give the wall a lick of paint
since the selfish homeless do not care
for appearances: walls whither, crack
and fall come daylight. A dusty fog
of dead roaches inhales you.
 

Hearing a tear puddle in the distance,
I turned my head consolingly, hoping
To be noticed for my caring beyond
My body’s metamorphose into a corpse

And be praised for my heart in times of distress;
The pavement’s solitary pedestrian.
Following the anonymous cry I fed
With some strength of my imagination

The lucid bitterness of a tear into my eye:
No longer were we strangers but victims
With similar fates – such is a moment for love –
And blurred vision I bumped into her.

Taking her hand and guiding it to my tears,
Letting her dive into my puddles, cleansing her
From guilt and solitude – hers were warm
And comforting; awaking some time later,

Already we were building a new city
For our togetherness to live.
 

Closing our eyes we focussed on the shapes
we imagined seeing in the dark -
rainbows crying downwards shivering our enslaved bodies
that resumed their daily business disregarding our sights.
The spasms from our eyes painted eyelid art

upon the tepid pools of solitude

that divided the flowers of our irises.
Our vivid recounts of what we witnessed

deformed us into thinking we had seen the same shape,

that, in darkness, we were bound together
by the paintings of our minds which,

we were convinced, would be worthy of a place

in the Louvre.
Nobody saw what we saw, until - suddenly -
one of us opened his eyes and destroyed a piece of fine art (J'Accuse!)
leaving only worthless tears behind.