The Mystical Mirage of Looking Inside

Traveling inward I discover the tempest for a night of one-thousand nights strewn in a darkness so deep I no longer see, for I have become blind by the madness of the humanity factor. Can it be so a light shines within the shadows of a demononic plague? Or, is it just within this landscapeContinue reading “The Mystical Mirage of Looking Inside”

A Black Man Once Told Me

John Gregory Evans © 2019 It remains not mine to say whether I would pity a colorful word of verb and noun, or, from where it may come, or the color of its skin, for I have seen the Lord, and, know him to be of spirit not acquainted with such superficialities. I believe inContinue reading “A Black Man Once Told Me”

Oh, Dear Angel – Come Back to Me!

John Gregory Evans © 2019 Arriving home late one night, appeared a gentleman from out of the darkness, from out of night, His skin was dark, his face was bright, for he carried a smile of intended delight, A thing was noticed within the course of this night, was that the gentleman was – politelyContinue reading “Oh, Dear Angel – Come Back to Me!”

Silver Love Under a Crescent Moon

O love! This contented night of a crescent moon lie sweetly b’ neath a drunken sky, and your hips of round succumb to the dark, the burn of love persuades me to dance naked with imparted lips, the slaughter of my soul…and finger-tips. The tilt of your head as the burn rushes through, the saltedContinue reading “Silver Love Under a Crescent Moon”

Villanelle of the Eastern Pond

John G Evans © 2019 Arise, dear child! Walk due East: I have come to greet you, Behold! Our open hearts shall meet. This eastern pond, My masterpiece I’ve spoken words here, created, anew Arise, dear child! Embrace this peace. Through wood, and hill I shall guide your feet Envision this pond filled with morningContinue reading “Villanelle of the Eastern Pond”

Silence: My Love

Silence, O silence, where has your mystery of union left me? In this midst of an enigmatic cloud of unknowing I search myself, touching, reaching, pulling, always stirring away at my dreams, for who, but I? Am I not in this hypostatic union with the Lover of loves? Why, never has there been a loveContinue reading “Silence: My Love”