Should his antidote mount a stumbling soup?

I wish I was religious
so I could go to heaven with beautiful people
but even a flower is ugly when it wilts,
so what constitutes true beauty?
Will I be granted a pass into everlasting bliss
off looks alone?
Having never saved a man’s life,
stopped global warming,
or brought world peace,
am I still eligible?
and if no individual raindrop
ever considers itself responsible for the flood,
is each drop still unaccountable?

Love is the one perfect religion.
Spread love like violence,
embrace unity,
worship the power of your heart;
its capacity for unlimited, undying, unconditional love.
look into your children’s eyes
and admire their brightness.

Love is the one perfect religion.
Spread love like violence,
sing praises to your lovers,
embrace the little things in life:
smiles, laughter, learning something new.
Cherish that.

I wish I was religious
so I could go to heaven with beautiful people
but even a flower is ugly when it wilts,
so what constitutes true beauty?
the ability to give and receive love.

Perfection is defined
when you lay next to me
heartbeats in sync
as you try to catch your breath
after calmness and composure settle in the room.
your adorable vanity persists
hands quickly move to adjust hair,
redefine waves,
wipe away sweat.
I shower you
with deserved approbation
though my descriptions of you seem recondite.
the flowery speech flows.
“you are a beautiful spectacle…
the sinuous movement of your hips leaves me mesmerized…
your loving has made a bard of me.”

Perfection is defined
in how you move in me
slow and subtle strokes
the simple complexity of our bodies unfixed.
your lambency lights the room
the brilliance of your aura can be seen
through the windows.
nosy neighbors get a peek
at our love making.
their envious eyes roll
at our sweetness
but under the tender spell of love
no one else matters.

Our perfection is defined by our love.
formless and beautiful love.

ecstasy engulfs pinions of disdain
fiery lust comes easy
heated barbs latch into their target
this impulse love came and went
like fireflies in the dusk

so we are left there
in bed
after I severed the ties we formed

after I watered the flames of our relationship
I traveled the path of contempt
to the other side
of freedom.

-- for Poetic Asides

my heart is in the clouds
and the sky
and the stars
but you are not just my star,
you are my opening to heaven.
our love goes beyond the gods,
meets somewhere between forever and always
and dreamily drifts high above cloud nine.

you are my heaven
where my heart lives
where my desire prospers
my imagination flourishes within your walls.

you are the reason I come home.
you are my home.
please know,
you are lovely
and you are loved
always.

let’s print up full editions of love
articles articulating amor at its best
pages of poetry prophesizing passion
‘may I print a kiss upon your lips?’ I ask
and then lips lock, forming a liaison
my tongue feeds you spoonfuls of devotion and desire
adulation and adoration adhere to your skin
where we touch

I idolize our intimacy.
you make love an art.

the beads of their love
proudly adorned the golden curve
of her back

being the goddess with
the smile of beautiful lips,
she basks in a nest of mad kisses.
the flowers that she picked
entwined their thin arms around her.
she shall let the wind snow rose petals.

at times,
she rouses
pierced by an unlucky
but endless distance
from that time when love adorned her back
distance from that time
when she was mad with love.