I am sometimes sad because
Surely churches should be
Shelters for the homeless?
Or because pockets jingle
And we are deaf to the jolly clatter
Whilst others hear the call of god.
Or because people with
Paper cuts leak bitterness
And not human empathy
And we leak and leak and
No one cleans up after us,
Until jokers mutter 'revolution'
And the day dreams of a burning city
Are believable when the cries for
'IhavenohomeIhavenomoney
nofoodnoshelterIhavenothing'
Are from muted peripheral spectres
In our Utopia.
Mostly I am sad because my words
Are void by lacking action but
My mind refuses to stop spilling out poetic waste.

Today you gave me a fake flower and
Most likely a lie but the flower is on my wall
Shiny yellow thing in foil bright like my eyes, you said.
I hope our exchange gave you hope.

When I was young
I spoke in a broken tongue
In a weak tune,
I pleaded,
I needed,
To be understood.
No one
took time
or patience,
to understand
No one!
Besides her
We are best friends
We were raised in a broken home
For she sacrificed and stood alone
not completely alone
but with me.
She sacrificed her own life for mine
I will never meet a woman who will ever be as kind
My sister is my guardian angel, in this broken home.

I am a pretender.

Looking through a window that is slightly open,
so that a breeze winds in
with gathered memories
of subliminal pain.

And I'm lost
partially wandering on a plot of unknown sand.
With the sun no longer reflecting,
refraction.
A reddening burn
and a quickened pulse
aching *****
and held breath.
I know where I am.

I am a fake.
But I cannot go through with it.
If I do not in the "real,"
why lie online?
Why hide myself
and view myself
criticize myself in comments with names that aren't mine,
not even who I want to be?

Why do I ignore myself,
and let fade into lingo.

Because I am human
and I don't want you to know me.
Even when I want you to feel,
I want you to share this moment with me.
And that is why
I post these
discombobulating pieces of no reckoning,
non-entertaing, ultimate **** "poems."
Because I want you to understand this
                                                                        me
in this instant.

Less and less
as addiction breaks
and connections appear
like sidewalk cracks
that allow grass
and weeds to wander up and through
to grow
like dandelions.

Providing little spikes of sunshine out of a darkened place
and floating messages once they die;
carried along by the wind
and breaths of the wishing hopefuls.

Soaring across the sky
like clouds blown by wind
and drafts entering windows
that blow curtains fro
and to lift hair back and breeze in
(breathe in)
the scents of summer.

Her breast of broaden chest
uncovered slight
by a sheet pulled across in the night
tangled by twitching feet
a mixture of movements
unsure toes singing
songs of unsettlement.

And her brow
furrowed as her teeth set
and clench
What does her throat yearn to garble?
instead of yarble
as her wrists slither along
like Cleopatra's snakes
that whisper trails of burnt red
and blotched white.

Bedded portrayals of lovely betrayals.

Because the guilt is clawing up
transpiring from the floor
like a mutant through a wall
weaving through taught bed springs
as a mouse after cheese
bursting from the indented mattress
like a monster in a horror movie
to grasp her
and pull her
until her screams ring out sharp
and scissor through paper dreams
before the weight crushes her.

Decapitated
as the Red Queen did to cards,
It was only a game
and always,
as silly games do,
someone had to lose.

And she
unfortunately
Won.

Someone
is lifting people from my life
between blinks,
stripping familial faces from earth
as erasable ink images,
one
by
one---
gum drops plucked,
as soulless grapes

no longer fruitful,
absence multiplies---
divided by youthful apparitions,
stunted ambitions,
and
sorrow

Someone
is whittling my family tree
with tomorrow’s steady hands
so quickly my name rises to the top,
as cream
scraping heaven with barefoot screams

while innocence weeps

Leaves change color,
Soon they fall,
Within months,
There's none at all.

Flowers blossom,
You see morning dew,
But soon enough,
That’s all gone too.

A warm embrace,
From a friend,
At some point,
Comes to an end.

The one thing that lasts,
Is one kind of love.
As long as you have hope,
In something above.