Flaws Spirit Counsel Emerald
Jericho Mouse Valentine Flower
Silk Lady Twilight Scotland
Solace Thunder Seedling Topaz
Ghost Hill Husk Dilemma

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As if obedient to a law
When I look I have a flaw:
If I purged this soul throned heart
	of passion's urge and primal art
To rid me of the angry surge
	Then among the counted loss
	Would be the golden with the dross
	A husk of Man, soul bereft,
	Grey and tasteless, nothing left...
So when the storm begins to grow
I must depart: I have to go
	But darling if it's you I love
	Then, by moon and stars above,
	As sure as ebbing tides will wax
	I will return: I will be back
Though all our bridges burn aflame
I will  walk them in your name
Though new walls rise and bar my way
I will besiege them, night and day
    Until the words fall from your lips
	To leave forever:  Go away.
Else watch me walking whole again
Through the minefields, through the fen,
Through what labyrinths you lay...

'Til you deny me that I can
Or I can kiss you as a Man.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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A trio of birch
	laid bare for winter
meet at a weathered grey stone
	silent, awaiting
	spring's recreating
Their emerald, whispering church:
	what eyes have I to soothe their day?
	what strength is called my own?
Of all the things that wisemen say
We reap what they have sown.

The stone was crowned
	 with lichens and moss
Half buried in the earth
	and in his shadow the seeds once fell
And wet rain gave them birth.

Beneath them in a swirling place
	the light gleams dim and rare
And fragments from our history race
	like leaves beyond all care.

But up against the chilling blue
	their shafts are white as snow
And where their spindles touch the clouds
	I heard my whistling go...

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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O gather up the wildflowers
       and race against the wind
Hold soft your love in these sweet hours
       That quickly never end
Captivate the rhapsody
       with kisses from the heart
Enchantments like that melody
       are rare enough to start.
Treasure every second tight
       each minute, every hour,
As if it might all end tonight
       and lose its tender power.

Ending the rhapsodic aire
       the music fell from me
Leaving me a silent stare
       in mute soliloquey.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Rose the sun
	in her blood red sky
Black smoke pillars
	stung my eye
A farmerís field
	just an undug grave
A burning chapel
	where a lunatic raves
This plate of sorrows
	has turned my head
The madness came
	from among the dead...
Why am I walking?
	Where can I go?
My ladyís trumpet:
	My Jericho.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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The covering of the stomach, dear,
	can be as cute as a mouse's ear:
A lady's is as smooth as silk
	and warm to lips as mother's milk.
Undulations in that field of gold
	bring yearnings that are never old;
The play of shade and light thereon
	is like a plea to my pantheon
Of fantasies and waking dreams
	To haunt my hours with straining seams;
That fine soft hair, like a baby's smile
	delights my heart, especially while
My lips caress that downy plane
	and cause the south to rise again...

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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What are these seeds,
	that sprout in the dark
And grow imperceptibly
	within my world?
They crack their shells
	like hearts breaking
And reach for what is 
	so far above them...
Why do they try
	as their ancestors did
So determinedly
	though doomed to fail:
Did they touch its face
	they would be blasted....
Why do they try so
	patient and quiet
So totally set on reaching
Still, I water them... as if
there were hope
as if there were

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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What time is left my singing soul
On earth with you who know it whole
When we might open up that world
Whence we were cast, yea, fully hurled...

Such poverty are these my words
Compared with living songs of birds
What futile tools to represent
The meanings for which they were sent...

That somehow in our final dream
We might discern them as they seem:
There is a spirit entered here
Who speaks to sound your inner ear...

Grieve for words we cannot speak
When we percieve the meaning leak
Away from what is felt to be
An impact of divinity...

What can we say to truth convey
In mortal words we throw away?
Yet word and song are coined and spent
Until the angels grow silent...

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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What star rides high to guide in life
	That counsels us to hide from strife?
What growth is had from burrowing deep
	In a fantasy of Life asleep?
Though devastation guard the way
	Pick up your staff and greet the day!
Though rubble be what's near at hand
	Morticed together it builds the land.
And death awaits us, safe or not,
	But alive are we now, and all unsought.
Meanwhile moments compile your years:
	Never be blind, nor stop your ears,
Nor buffer your touch, nor dull your taste,
	None of the senses should ever you waste.
Especially the mind, which senses our scheme,
	The objects of reality, the glories of dream...
And should you discover it's all gone to hell,
	Perhaps its because no roses you smell.
Better to choose the adventurous path
	Than to die at the crossroads alone with your wrath.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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I adore
The lovers wrestling within
And believe there is more
Than silk seduced skin
To tempting my lover's tantalizing eyes
And reaping the fruit of her sweetest sighs
With all the night's forgotten lore
Prelude and fugue; tonal and score,
Burning an offering to gods within
Empowering the sensual magician...

In this moment I can see
Intricacies beyond my mortal me
In order for my love to be
I must release, and see her free...

But know the sensual in your mind
Seeks majesty with Womankind:
What male can more or ever hope
When all else lies beyond our scope
Than the uniting balance of making love
Which intimates divinity to this mortal glove:

Before she closes my open door
Behold the love whom I adore!

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Lonely soldier of the night
Warming in the morning light
Alert to see the still unseen
Quick to slip into the green

Having lost his life before
When wife and children whom she bore
Were wrenched away in time's cruel tide
And he was left bereft of bride

And having won to his lone peak
He was a-spying there to seek
To find a solace for his age
To heal his sorrow and his rage

When low amid a shadowed vale
He saw a glass pavilion pale
Shining as a sparkling broach
A Queen could wear without reproach

And there within a crystal case
He saw a beauty beneath her face
Which shone from deep within her heart
Not placed by mortal hand nor art

Yet trapping her were ghastly spectres
Shades of hellish nether vectors
Spawn of evils from the past
Within that tomb they had her cast

Fond of speculation's knack,
The soldier reached into his pack
Drew forth his shaving mirror bright
And shone the sun upon the wight

Now would you think that all is well
Before the sounding of your knell?
For all his wit and worldly rigor
He woke the lady *and* the tiger...

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Hold deep again this sinewy limb
Take heart and mind and soul within
I wait in silence as for dawn
And softly move, without moving on.

Like a dark sky's morning star
A spark in night air from afar
To invest in you the warmth I seek
So hard to find on Solace Peak.

Standing stonewatch as you lay
As sure as sunrise starts the day
Listen to the meadowlark:
So you rise within my dark.

Lady, lovely in my sight
Know that I would fill your night
Though shades of whirlwinds haunt your dreams
And in the shadows work their schemes.

Brimming glass of unity
Drinking you I long to be
Casting jewelled rythmns bright
A spirit trail for your inner sight.

When night sweeps in to plunge you deep
Embracing you within your sleep
Sparking fires in body and soul
Inspiring desire's source and goal
Quickening your heart to sing
And open, like an evening rose
Soon aflame with earthy glows.

As proudly as the moon is pure
Strong and long is this allure.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Raven eye on acorn,
	the mist swept down the vale;
The chilling blue was in the sky
	and hunger in the pale.

Her hair was red as sunset,
	her laughter good as gold,
In skin and eye was beauty kept
	That men would long to hold.

I came to her by moonlight
	a shadow on the wind
Within her warmth on that cold night
	came love without an end.

Though ages passed along the way,
	and cities rose and fell,
We seek each other day by day
	and found are as a bell.

Restless in rebirth
	we search the broadest earth.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Under the stars
Waiting, knowing nothing yet
This desert, bleak with dry wind,
Stretching away and desolate:
Deep with silence odd
Forever knowing true:
Solitude is talking to god
But Love is god talking to you.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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The wind is rising
	and the sky is black
Moist warmth blowing circles
	skittering my little campfire
The tarps crack, flown,
	Trying to cover up
Tying it down for the swelling storm, booming wet
	It's heavy and wicked, the looming threat,
A tenseness building
	into a thrill of helplessness
And now I wait facing the wind with my heart
	eyes watering
	recognizing my doom
Too late to run now
	else way to soon
Because I love every woman like a storm shakes every window
When the thunder cracks heaven's notice that it's damn real here
	I love every woman from the tiny wall artist
To the keening willow woman shuddering in the winds
	I devour your wanting and hunger for more...

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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flowing from the moist warm earth
	the seedling slips above his birth
as radiant roots beneath the soil
	draw his food to fuel his toil

sunlight warms and vibrant feeds
	leaves of green for undreamt seeds
fertile being of the day
	inspire my life and silent way

what lesson here beckons my heart?
	what thought beyond this sham of art?
oh tiny slip of growing life
	will you shade my someday wife?

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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grasping silent destiny
submersed in life
	to come to be
to grow, unfold, to bloom
	to see
beyond the veiling mystery
	as if a captive of the light
yet free as ever man could be
	to stand and hold
	and laugh and love
and weep alive beneath above:
	as distant as the star to me
	yet close as breath I long to be.
the prize is in the knowing.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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It wasn't the child
Who sings in my heart
And knows the joys and sorrows of
This radiant beauty I call love
It wasn't the man
Whose form I wear
Whose calm warm hands
Adored your hair
It was rather the ghost
Whose grief and fear
Filled dreams and fictions
With jealousy's sear.
It was the ghost...
But the ghost was me
Alone in gone forever
Among the campfires of the dead
Feet in the embers
Nevermore free

We wrapped ourselves in each other's dream
	Hoping to reach the real from the seem
Entwining our mingling aspiration
	Then worried about the strange elation.

Meaningless dances with empty eyes
	Conditioned responses, insincere sighs,
Conspire to make the weariest hope
	The ghosts of the other will allow us to cope.

The ghastly masks we swap and trade
	Seem all too real to keep what's made.

There came a moment in the unmade bed
	Haunted with pillows for no one's head
When all had been said, and decision's ride
	Came to the Bridge of Groom and Bride.

Whatever the choice results from romance
	Beware my friend, of the Old Ghost Dance. 

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Uncommon rush, to so hear my name,
Spoken melodious, a rare gift it came.

The question before me is whether to bear
A singing young woman of scented red hair
And forego the echoing psalter of choice
Purely in pleasure of hearing her voice.

Well, perhaps a bit more, but pleasent be still
If I would but make of this mountain a hill.
The mountain is heavy: I carried it here
It's made of the ash of a very deaf ear.

If I would then make of this mountain a hill
Then she would go with me, methinks that she will.
If she would go with me then perish the day
When mountainous hills will not go away.

If mountainous hills will not go away
Their faith is the greater, and I could not stay.
But if she went with me what matters it yet
Whether hills go away, or we away get?

The hills are away lass, the hills are away!
So come to me darlin', we'll live for the day!
Come to me sweetheart and sweep up the stars
The passions of romance are most truly ours.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Frames of reference cast away
the contexts of our yesterday
leaving just the husks of seeds
that mark the consequence of deeds

the nourishment on which we fed
to nurture life for what we said
is sown into our histories
and mutates from those mysteries.

someday a harvest will we reap
to feed the undreamt dreams asleep
which here and now begin to grow
like acorns deep beneath a snow.

people cast away the frame
when solving naught and fixing blame:
best capture all the crucible's dross
than lose the golden with the toss.

yet if it matter not to you
whether growth should have value
ephemera you have and hold
unexpectant of the old.

since in your mortal tent you dwell
so briefly time you cannot tell
to walk within and be without
breeds eloquence in the devout.

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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Choosing the loss of one or both
When what matters most is on the oath
Is hellish, for a tender man:
To lose it all? Or lose again?

Life is too short to waste the breath
When even our values define our death:
Life's virtue better defines the man
Thus what he sought was in his hand.

Yet here I stand at this crossroads
Far from the din of the chains and goads
To choose my path within this wood
Unable to tell between evil and good.

On the one hand I stand to lose my love
On the other I lose the stars above
This way all is tangled and sharp,
But that way deafens away the harp.

I could decide to let it go
And let the waters call the throw
Or yet again I could play it smart
And lose the soul within my heart...

Perhaps I should just stand right here
And choose to not choose, out of fear
And then the Fates would take control
And all I'd lose would be my goal...

But then what if I just began
To turn around, and then I ran
Far back along the way I've come
But oh... to what an erring sum!

It's at these times when brilliant men
Begin to wonder, and again...

© copyrights claimed by Richard Romero, 1996 

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