katanamoe

A beautiful woman draws me in, and holds me there. She seduces me with her eyes; both intentionally and innocently. Her sweetness flow through me, with a honey consistency, of pulsing warmth. I am so overwhelmed by it, that I am a deer, caught in her radiating limelight. Ever so gently, she cascades over into my inner turmoil, and awakens me. With genuine intimacy, I smile back, I can’t help it. What else am I to do, but to return beauty with beauty? Written by Craig Paul The Bamboo Samurai

Sometimes I find myself sinking into the cynical view that humanity might as well be a plague on this Earth. A sort of viral infection that does more harm than good, gets worse with time, and for which there is no cure. How can we remedy an entire species against the sins of our ego? Those same sins that are choking the Earth are the same ones that form the noose grazing our own necks. What cure is there for Greed, when it strips away our resources and pollutes our drinking water? What cure is there for Wrath, when a difference of faith is reason enough to put poison in the lungs of the innocent and unfortunate? What cure is there for E

What beautiful a thing is a star that it shines equally bright in all directions. That it gives all that it is and all that it ever hopes to be to the far-reaching universe. What charity of God are you to live so selflessly and yet know only abundance? Written by Craig Paul, The Bamboo Samurai.

No hands and no feet, Yet you fleet about grasping at straws. No eyes and no nose, Yet you see with the scent of memory. No mouth and no tongue, Yet your persuasive kisses leave me intoxicated. My knees quake when you're near, so irresistible is your charm. When I am at ease I am made to wait for you. Like the time by the lake on that bright summers day. A playful western breeze pushed ripples of water from shore to shore, Long-limbed insects, by some force of will, effortlessly rose and fell on the current. The sun warmed my cheeks and brought a smile to my face. I did not notice when you crept from behind and put my heart in my throat.

I want to look at you and see your soul To see clear through everything until I see true to you I want to listen to the sound of your voice and hear your heart speak To strain my ears beyond judgement, to accept everything and to assume nothing With compassion I will uncover you In silence I will comfort you Chest to chest our hearts would pulse in sequence Their synergistic rhythm, with every beat, would put your mind at ease A good man once told me that the heart never lies It knows love, recognizes truth and is made heavy by hatred Let go of the chains that bind you, they are heavy, tiresome things Drag them no further weary traveler,

Life is my place, Death is my home. To fear what is beyond the veil of life, Is to fear a place we have been but never seen. Or is it that we have seen but never been? No matter, for this heavenly place is still familiar, And whether man, woman or child it is still calling to us all. Could it not be said then that life haunts death, For it is only in life that we live fearing death. It is said that death brings with it calmness and serenity, Two things that are non-existent in the haunted soul. No amount of riches can buy you out, No strength of arms can pierce his incorporeal form. Death's eventual chariot stops for us all. The passing

My mind is bombarded on all sides by an endless barrage of thoughts that strike at the very core of me. How long has it been. How long has this soul been under siege? How long have I not been myself? It was not more than a week ago that I came to this new place of awareness. Until now it's like I was asleep and nothing else mattered. Nothing else mattered because nothing else was real enough. Nothing was real because the waking life seemed more like a dream. A dream of unpleasant things. A dream of heartache and heartbreak. A dream of anger and pain. A dream of loss and sadness. A melting pot of emotions that, when brought to a bowl, bu

A promise is a promise You asked that I write you a poem Something true to you Something seen through my eyes and spoken to, in my voice So now that I sit here and think on you very little comes to mind Small in stature as you may be, standing minutely at five foot-three There must be more to you than I can see I pause and ponder I have torn this mind asunder Yet, shamefully, my thoughts have given birth only to nothingness fully grown to emptiness My cursive lacerations have inked their way across pages to numerous to mention Smooth strokes linked by the back and forth of flustered, eratic, hard lines But a promise is a promise I wi

The spell of love is in the air Its current touches hearts and caresses lips Rosey cheeks flushed by a sudden sweetness Shakey fingers part strands of hair Putting light across smiling faces Darting eye to eye searching for a meaning unseen The scent of cherry kisses The rythmic pulse of beating hearts Let down your defences Those tiresome, troublesome things And let it be known that the price of love is sacrifice Written by Craig Paul AKA Thrinn Macdermerran the Bamboo Samurai

Alpha's Omega Bright in memory but faded in feeling Not insensitivity but rather an impartial indifference No longer blinded to truth now open to its reality We are sitting at the beginning and the beginning is standing on its end I finally understand that it is nice here All smiles Written by Craig Paul AKA Thrinn macdermerran the bamboo Samurai