in my quickstep i dodge pessimistic paranoia,
to make a B-line with a convincing smile
not to show you my insecurities,
since three nights dog tired

i search your listlessness, those detoured eyes,
trampoline thoughts of yours
elsewhere
which i innocently ask you where
they are, you say -in explaining-
  
    (as if to some enforcement officer or
     probationary agent in an interrogation room,
     a single naked bulb dangling in shadows,
     save for teeth and baritone accusations)

-in explaining-
you are weary .. "fati~gay" you say -having
worked out
(your *****' leisure given away,
in my head i say...
to someone else yesterday, last night...)
today-

i fix my carnivorous gravitation
on carnage with our usual
routine of euro-**** or latins
    ripped from torrents of unknown webs
that our downtown pal gifts us
regularly, having now
figured out our tastes and styles
of types of boys
or men we salivate to... he figured it
somehow

i force myself to shoot,
unload my bullets with a glass *****
inside - as i grip the handle like a ride -
my vices escape with the voices inflated,
questions to understand you
muffled by choice, not getting any
closer to...

in the release, no answers,
only music of muscles and erections
emitted from the Magnavox's shrills...
my hole seems to still need
to be filled

where once i was frequented
by the real-deal holy-meal
of your beautiful member; both of us
silencing our ordeals
with slumber now
and surgery with sugary
well-wishes

kisses don't do it for me any longer

since your energy's spent
elsewhere

(i don't seek it out
-why, or who, or even
when -did you have the time to spend?
in between the calls checking in)

it's an empty ******
when
the one you love has his
when
you rinse off the boy butter
to the noise of amateur directed scenes
Brazilians in their jungle brilliance
or the cocoa skinned of Ipanema, Egypt,
or some ******' place
where anything
and everything’s
hung black...

i don’t care if this angers you,
i know you're reading it now.

still, it's a restless sleep
when i can't stop wondering
if your dysfunction is
caused by me...
     that i'm the reason why
you disappear to complete yourself
Meet your needs
Elsewhere...

Mystery Machine*
No **** Sherlock cannot solve
Bloodhound’s trail of clues.

All eyes widely stare
At Abercrombie models,
Them beautiful boys.

More torso than legs.
A strong short drink of a man.
Frothy mug of beard.

A glutton for war
Is a little bird that tweets
Tweet Twittering
Their whole lives thru
Insulting
Everyone
And all intelligence
Know the differences

Between fake news and satire
Is consideration

A glutton for war
Is filthy rich and
Inconsiderate.
An A hole
Capitalist.

Joe without his legs
Wheelchair, bedside G.I.
At a meeting
Ruminating and feeling
It’s like A.A.
Rehabilitation games
The system plays War
Craft with missing halves
PTSD R e s p e c t
That ain’t the half
Of the stink and the taint
Sniffing glue
Replacing chipped paint

Joe only worries
If there’s somewheres
To be
After rehab
Need a Lyft Uber quick
Downtown a ton to do
Joe worries arriving in 12 steps

Sponsor anonymously
Befriend responsibly
Joe worries
Like long time friends
His legs
That they won’t work
Like they did back when
He got laid
And was paid
By way of Vietnam
And ****** Uncle Sam.
Joe worries

Of wheelchair accesses
His favorite places without
Doors he’d like to
Fit in
And go on
Living
To be loved like a brother
That no one knew
And no one cares to
Joe feels like
A third wheel
A phantom limb
Who’s bucket list is to
“Invest in the Google”
“Learn how to use
The cloud”

I hear
They say
Our little corner
Barely a Chinatown
Of a city Sin is growing
Is fasting becoming
A restaurant district
Advertised in “Yelp!”
I hear
They say
It’s too saturated
Cliché satires
Ironies of indigents hungry
Too many and not much
Begging for pretty pennies
“Help!” In black sharpie
I hear
The cardboard box is free.
In the dumpster
Behind the restaurant.

(I hear some are looking for work)

“To be or not to be?” Shakespeare’s lyrical question proposes that we have a choice in the matter, and what is the matter? —with Existence? We argue with it, compromise ourselves, our well being, our own sense of morality, to be given the answers (they speak and say). The answer to Shakespeare’s rhetorical query is “to be” always to be, if there is a choice, then congratulations—you are alive, and it’s about Life and all that is encompassed within and without us… The clarity of one’s choices, along with the feelings that blurs and places doubt, must be defined and decided precisely, logically with the sharpness of absolutes and truth. Do the math, they sometimes say, but too many get it wrong when it’s a question of doing right.

Gold Mandala Suns,
In fine Ming vase of green jade.
Welcomes day’s good Grace.

**** strap
Leather
**** ring

Shaved baskets
Trimmed hedges
Or hairless smooth

Quiet abeyance
Pliant without a clue
Young and tight

Taint and sphincters
Need not speak
**** bleached...

Houseboys best asset?
Keep being kept
And the mansion
***** and span

Poolside, wear your youth
A golden tan...
Poor boy house toy,

Don your dignity well...
Naked. Summer. House
Boy.

Drag/Queen

... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
        performance art of a deceptive nymph

... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
       it is almost as if floating across water
       he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over

façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...

... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
          beneath it could lie disappointment and mistake
          drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
          another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / her soft curtain / kept unseen,
but what if ...

... the truth and process to what presently others see
     to believe or not
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfeeling under layers & layers
of blush / trial and errors / sharp contempt

      would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
      smile so devilish with wicked secret
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath ?

To  prove his swan-lake / a gent

... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song sung timely
hummed & remembered well
(hells bells and *****)
Drag queens’
priceless history / murals' on passing face
No broken naughts
While performing down his lace
      define yourself, she affirms her mirrors...
The harsh flight of life from the embers,
      happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with goddess grace,

it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing  
                                 This trumpeter
                                 swan in stiletto heels...

That look upon his face

Like he’s angry toward creation.

Bugsy's dream                                Operatic fountains synchronized streams
                                                     Dead music legends interpreted by cirque
                                                     glamour the eyes neon and distractions

gangster's paradise
imploded and expanded                  stars in the sky out shined by fluorescent sands

desert roads in summer throes
craps and snake eyes
piercingly like void venom              artifice and slots easy as swallowing shots
                                                     life: a machination of mannequins
electric pulse of a new heart
as mob money mobs                        sincerely catering service champagne rooms
since greed barely sleeps
and lust is always hungry...             it be only history now viral and industry

sin city  
once only an idea, a peanut
from - y'know - "like whoa! what the frank??..."
but gotta hand it
the business took                            legit crooks, stashing books, making whoop...
dream getaways by blue moons      
in blue pools
privacy like freedom is a pension crap toss
EXPENSIVE...

where those blind to consequence
can witness
(convertible caddy)
the highway to losing grace              seeing is half believing when gambling
                                                       feels like a game, and the surroundings
                                                       rarely change.
Where the indifferent ego
Idled by self
becomes a parasitic pretender
talented liar
actor to some...                              walking among
                                                      the vapid vehemency of true victors & kings
brilliantly glamourized
in billboard lights
numbingly blinking                          hypno hyper active analogues
                                                      of high def diminishment
of common folly logic
displacia of senses
fairy-dust of forgetting                   (in a Benjamin straw)

duty discarded
familial responsibility a hollow weight
a close second to desperations

the hustle was once a dance

the true crime and you
metro and the fool
willing food                                   flash floods and tour buses full

just to be had

gangster pimped out a city
called it "the table"
dubbed by sin
stole some cash

catering to our vices / service entrance in the back

"What happened in vegas...?"

some call it  being had ...

In the halls of Un-
Remembered
hieroglyph in sand...

Gold cartouche dunes sigh
lost times alien memory
ancient gods have died

tour guide Egypt’s dunes
to throne and center piece
a beam from on high

Old heavens watching
an empty chamber of stones
pictographs of bone

What all was common
for Amen and kid king Tut,
now ghosts in the dust...?

(Oh mortality!
Silent screams in jars of clay
Preserved in wrappings)

I wonder how your birthday suit would taste
On Groundhogs Day

I'm curious how cool your touching hands
In our peppered moods?

And yet I think you're my favorite
Acquaintance and infliction

Upon the eyes' leisure,
When there I bite my tongue,

As timid as tangerine Suns slow to set,
Our silence still telling and wet...

I consider and call you friend
For you disperse the grey and heavy

The thunderheads of sadness
Replacing it with regalia and gay

So stylish your sintilliation of conversations
Your body language like torquoise pools

Refreshing views and clear cuts through
The babble of the rabble not much to say

You must be from tomorrow's new
Breed of brutally honest and humorous

All other spewing hubris
But you must be from a stranger world

An alien place to be so you...
Yet like Summers, in the heat of our youth

The moments that Deja vu
And dream out loud our foggy recollection

The friends I have called true
Come and go like falling stars

But the brightest stay where they map the night
There you are so brilliant a sight

You must be a real friend, a guide and then
After we have spent all hours blindly high

Oh truest North, the ***** of your light,
Keep all the lonely ones in awe

The brightest light

Must be a friend, accompany me here
Then
In the dark...

No matter how far
Hark my friend, you’re a shining
Star.

Needles to threadbares.
Old Chinese secret-blood-map.
Porcupine poultice.

Hmm, that twenties
Something young couple,
Maybe yours next door
Street tough sweet boys
Got deep that feeling one another
Hung like a monster
Drink of fresh new air
It’s the last freedom left to break
Into the norm...
Let’s make our own ****
The electric excitement
Recorded for quality assurance...
Turns him on
The two youths for reals
Kissing
They’re hot for each other

Deepnesses rising up in their glow
Exudes into the eyes
Witnessing the truth a taste of it
The divinity of god’s absolute
Something is felt
But can be construed
Since the world is awful full of liars
Yet what tears have Shed / did say,
Like being bled
This physical plane makes a drop
Spontaneous rain
A perfect combustion

Let’s make a **** about our love
Teach the world an example
Of how imperfect humanity
But perfectly
Do we love,
Even so cruel the wilderness of it
The everyday kind of
Wish...
as they watch on,
I wish I knew that...
felt that
Had that
Jesse’s James
Bond girl
But mainly
I wish I had true
Love...
As they watch on,
Is this it
Are we for real?

And heaven questioned
Hey man
What’s the deal?

*(You’ll never know Truth if you never know love)

Ink bleeds these fresh tears
Jealous mind re-enacting
Each kiss, here I’ve penned.

As hot as...
those eyes when he sees
almost predatory

always do they genuflect
upon their roughened knees  
a sordid kind of scene

obscene / unsanitary
craven cries to Loki
for pleasures
****** writhing /
feeding fists

sweat of the easy / a quickened fix
men with members stiff as petrified
sticks / jabbing in a hastened mix
teeming muscles / hungry hips

like electrified evenings of swollen eels
sustained by suckling Gomorra’s ****
Fiendishly always
for the slick and the harsh
(Left over bits)

From the crystalline he is undoubtedly marked
by the unquenchable blue fire
of his lust / afflicted addict

never will he tire - incessantly
defined by ***'s maledictions.


I have grown hot like sun’s fiery light,
bright - even in the darkest mires
he's an unmatched lover in satin flight,
a dragon / a well-endowed sire
formidable in succulence / remiss of sight

i weep without regret when
once i followed him toward the night
forgot what i was and

accept what i am,
endure in all burning light
fueled by the sword of Pan

love keeps me warm
as he keeps me lit

i am reborn / magnificent
a forlorn phoenix
omniscient  
songs for his careful choir

i am one chosen - truth among liars,
i fly above / kite toward the sun

this is what I am / what i was
this is what i've become

then a willful puppet
without inhibiting wires

still my love will never tire
transformed by lost desire / hot as blue fire

this is who i've become
i am the light of the rising sun

The Lion of kingdom come...

White Cookie dough Cush
Vape and munchies, puff puff give.
Highs of blunted stunts.

One of few
words that has no other definition
but itself both
written and referenced

with many synonyms similar
a muse universal and familiar
adds shade for heated
hearts all quite red

like a rose
it is it's own unique beauty,
long stemmed
Love
it is nothing but...

(everything is everything.)

not Lust or Covet, for they are too brazen
and carnal with their hunger
unlike Love, which fills the need
steadily--in time, relieving the craving,
leaving contentment
then feeding others without requirement
of payment...

not Adoration or Crush
because they are still children
without the understanding
or capacity for self-sacrifice
which Love is familiar to
like years unconditional
this trust is a marriage between
naïve, wise, special, and “nuts”.


not Passion or zealous Desire,
due to their one-sided tunnel vision
without compromise or sway,
almost indifferent to all else
but the prize at the end;
for Love has it's eyes in everyday
at all times
in your corner
(All and fair weather friend).

not Like or Fondness, for they are weak
in emotional life,
half devoted and half way gone
waiting for the other
to finish a simple thought
indifference is not a line to cross;
because Love cares for both
itself and yours and all the other,
"love thy neighbor as thy brother"

love is willing to carry the weight
always keen to always wait
no matter how long
or how late...

It is so wonderfully loyal
Love is
that it often times is motivated
by a blindness for only it's devotion;

but true Love
does not worship
and sometimes must let go
to preserve it's integrity,

for if it is real
it will return with more fuel for the fire
to light the warmth of our hearth
higher...


Love commits fully
even unto death, whether star-crossed
or over time's deepening breath,
it is defined by each
and all
it's own victory and story...

Still,
one of the most difficult things is
to fall in Love
and never understand it

but you know it
like a lullaby from infancy

she whispers to you

do not fear

Love is always
here.

Sweet green alchemy!
Let’s drink to forget the pain,
Love’s absence and strife.

The aging blind man at the florist's
Recalls his vision, his statue'd youth

Here, the sensation of scent
Is a meadow of heartache
When days were alive as a bouquet
Nostalgic now to go / see her…

Alas when sight was fragrant...

He carries lilies out the door
Old and blind
A man holding memories
Of bright befores...

Alas when sight was fragrant.

The Rose and Lotus
Wed in ripe sunset vineyards.
New Love’s red vintage.

Often times when reading the messages
poets metaphor in rhyme,
in reason and allusions and imagery

they say the same thing--as if they all of 'em took
a class together on love

they say "love is relative..."

relative to what?
to whom or how or when?
like a family member twice removed,
an aunt, a grandmother's warm smiling
invitingly familial

be it an impromptu emotion, described grandiose
and Hollywood acclaimed,
love seems
     obscure
     demure
     fickle at times
     wishful
     blissful
     fervent even
     magically
     restless
     with its deliciousness
on and on so it goes / without saying too  much
how it will breathe
new life into those
     lackluster
those without
yet who are
     consumed    
     hollow
those without hope, suddenly are given it
     anew
     vividness
     An energy miraculously appears,
In HD the world is seen / absolute brightness
faultless and star-filled
     clear..

Yet it well can cause
our worst of fears
of wars / casualties / gruesome endings
   tragedies
   :a movie
with Shakespearean poetic pain,
the pentameter of the mortal heart
   sonnets of our human condition
   :a documentary
   of life
   conflicted
it is a cause many have and will bleed
for, some even die for,
searching and reaching out
whether in vain
or suffering in the pain find
awakenings
Then again
that's what it's all about ...

it is relative, to what or why
in life,
     pragmatic,
     fractal
human feelings reign -  yet a populace
of loneliness, millions of neighbors
never extend an open hand or invitation
so love can be difficult to find

in the sea of Man,
of many  a world separated
it strikes like lightning, they cliche
     quick
     unannounced
     unstable
it happens without warning, cupid's arrow
hits, descriptively it must be a wound..?

yes / yet no / unknown

it has begun: an end
to a means - a chemical thing
(hypothesized
in scientific circles,
I guess
just one of those undefined
Unexplainables)

like crop circles
in the wheat fields of the heart it is
sometimes
unpredictably appears
     obscene
     wild
     flavorful
     rigid
     rarely
     mean
     spirited
     ferocity
at times...
all the while

in nature's law of strength versus luck,
small prey to a predator : eat or be consumed,
love is not recognized (or is it? by the animal)
mate and procreate in their simplest terms.
Does a shark check out it's female before it decides
to release his *****--take it on a date, a swim in the riptides?
a bite of sushi first?

Empress bees and others with their queen-ruled colonies
birth a world from one,
does she feel the same for her thousands of husbands
fathers of her millions of children spawned?

love is relative... love is blind
another descriptive fallacy
invented by folk without husband or wife or vision
nor same-*** partners : universally
known in these modern communities
of man-made homes
and tomes ...
blind ... as if like a person, the word
unable to see,
inept of decisions, making a finale,

who will stay by the miens of our simplicity
flesh and feelings
     silent servants
     beguiling
     hidden
     treasures

Now imagine lightning striking
     suddenly
     real
     unabashed
     fulfilling
     electrifying
     sensual  
     salivation

far beyond restrictions of the flesh/ ***,
past times and her finite
musings, they say it will go on and on

"forev'a ev'a? forev'a ev'ah"

so it goes / the song repeatedly plays.
so then i say, as long as we are
still the masters
of this life's age, kings of consciousness,
of intelligence and rage
Love tho'
     fleeting
     Careless
     Whispers
It’s like
     Being
     Liked
     Obsessed over
     quenching kissed
All yours
     lessons-learned
Feeling aloft in flight
Love
will stay  

And as witnesses to war
or after : in peaceful days,

O the one true thing

I have seen of love's relativity:
love is relative to humans
and our
being
whether blind or whether seeing
It’s yours and mine
Divinely seeking.



(Free of will & full of meaning
Love is the truth
All Life is feeling...)

It’s raining birdsong.
Spring arrival, graceful Swifts,
Two-tailed brother’s breeze.

Indigent / outcast
trailer trash
flotsam.
We are products of our surroundings.

Or is it upbringing
Taken / down
Far from home
If it's where the heart is...

"Worthless idiot"
She spits on me
Like her rednecks and *****
Big pimping

Her tricks
Quick to flick
Their Bics and *****
Bringing home the other
Black.

Reynolds wrap and points at the back
Hiding in the thickness
Of weeping veils
Of willows

Outside the picket fences
Just beyond Royale Park mobile
Some kind of
A Community
Missing it's gate
All the times shivoo

Since the South is clammy
Sweat shop swamps
And blistering
Hot like Gold
Coast fires / petrol dragons' breath

(She's a mockery
Of the word -- revelations
Turning
Now napkins and coasters
Tissue for ****** noses.)

Vagrant vespers
In the dark
she lets the men
Inside her double wide

Inebriated bruises
Polka dot excuses

Even in the city
It's funny
How the homeless can hide
Out in the open

Escape.

Indigent / outcast
Trailer trash
Minutiae boy

Barely half / legally life blind
And lucky to be alive
Still in search of
Some kind of

Home.

We dapple our kiss
Hot white Zinfandel

And like the blind groping
For doors, you open me,

Longingly / our warmth
One hearth we coelesce.

Uh hum.  (cough—clearthethroat)

There is no Try
Now let me write the rhyme
The Hippity Script

Let me...
Tell you How we do
Lovely so lovely doomed

There is no Try
Just do me The Dew
On my nose and eyelashes

Let me be your favorite thing
Lightning flashes
A Mohave storm...

Let me be clear
My throat my dear
Taste-touching her form

Please let me
Flip it into Legend
The Hippity script

There is no Try
No fatal end of Grand
Clear of minds/eye

So thus all began
Uh huh.
*(Crickets and sirens)

Most prized possession
Priceless, precious thing, he hoards
*her untouched beauty

Thick swamp-summer days
Mossy lichen canopies,
High Noon Hideaway.

Oh hollow Thirst!  

How it drowns out life's liquid scenes,

All trenchant memory now

dries the tongue;

          When recollection swims with dire aches

          In the stomach lingering

Deserts  

          once oasis-providence:

the ease of us

sifting with the sand

Minutes limpid between caress.

Creation our chalice overflows

Quenching in and each other

Love for water

As the hours go touching vastnesses

To open us / one heavenly sky :

Illuminating you

Both assuage and succor...

But I am drought and man

          Flesh heavy / crawling through

         War's searing hills

         Chafed of what made me fearless . . .

         Once a Traveler discarding haste,

Still Thirsts for those palm trees’ shading moments

Still pictures of bodies we felt

Still continuously feeling.


It is as though an affliction’s game

To wait

Between search and weaning

No swift elixir

I am just a bare tree leaning.

(praying for love's rain...)


This Thirst is deeper than remembering

The drink that once was Us.


.  .  .  .




Halcyon,

I’m bathing in your adoration,

Nothing so sinful, or minuscule, as to need

Redemptive rinses of the spirit

When we were

As what we only knew how to be,

Ourselves yet together sharing feasts...


Which we lay out for each other

Ceremonious only through the unveiling,

Knowing how to trust in this (which is between us).


Oh How to feed that old hunger, I longed for you,

Love soft mornings dew on skin,

Like when we had the outdoors with our mischief, bodies

Attentive as the grass when we look within…


Those bright eyes that pierce me deeper now

Understanding / how my breath always quivers

With the slight tips of your tender fingers.

Wish makes the body famished and weakened,

Needing

The food from in between kiss and spark

Lovely of smiles that shares heaven’s glee,

In each other’s sensations, feeling the answer

Rather than being told to eat…


The Reveries of wines tasted, the lifting of all things

To a memory, yet not having the full course

Of dining with serenity, finding that destiny

Has yet to begin

When love was the race I was questioning,

Kindnesses were supposedly human,

While dreams came true with happy endings..



Hunger can make the world seem cruel

When we give up on searching for meaning,

We ourselves make

The Feast of meals

with our believing …

Evening shimmers wet with Autumn rain
It's sheen reflectors, mirrors, eyes

Of cavorting shadows amongst the fey
Like city tinsil this Samhain night,

Oh how lovely colors celebrate
With ghostly kin & youthful lights...

With cirque painted skins and facade
Of candied ghoulish grins,

How sweet & innocent the haunted highs
Infects each home, "trick'r'treat" of hymns.

Laughter like All's been forgiven,
All seems right, again...

Though hidden faces -  forgotten sins,
Speak sie la vie this holiday,

With carved pumpkins, witches' cry,
Screams are as illusion as the fright,

This Samhain even tide .

It's all babes and monsters ball
This hallowed eve
This Samhain night

Tra la li, tra la lay
Then tomorrow is Hop tu naa...
The days after for all our saints...

Come the winter will be white,
As the ghosts this Samhain night.

O
Moan.
      Y a w n.
Purr.

How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfit nomads
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
     pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...

The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
     shadow...

We breakfast on such sensations
     satin thousand threads
sifting in grips of sheets
          creating
    silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
                tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
     and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara

           Heatwave

where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
              stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
     this Sunday morning...

Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
         slithering undulations
         of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas

Since sensing sensual stiffness
     your shifting
            your shaft
my blood collects
    to tighten what is mine within

When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
           that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.


Such thickets of urges
   juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprivation
         half grin half flurry,
                     No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...

Stretching with both my hands
behind me
        gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
      by the gods' - creative breath and shame
           I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...

Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
      sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance

we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
         Driven
                 Breathing
One defeat
          Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.

                          Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.

Good morning, Love
   a taste of how Nirvana feels

constellations and the heavenly
wheel.

Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
         Stretching

Behind
Reaching for you

if just briefly knowing
the whole truth...

Always keep your mind,
Your heart, and your eyes
Open.

Cuz because the love of parents
should not would not will not lie
nor must not be not ever denied

Be respectful and confide, fearless with truth;
since love itself is mostly
if not only always right
Cuz because our hearts are wise
(Remember be good in kind...)

So then guardians will and trust
and must keep an eye,
though their words are of instruction,
with logic and reason - what if and why,
assist in the up lifting of our futures' minds

Yet remain the reminders of follies before
and guide with guiltless light

Look 'em in the eyes!

Cuz because Love don't lie,
it's alright
let them wander beyond the shore
have 'em ready at the door
say "I love you"
all the while
living anew your wan of life

Keeping in touch
still keeping an eye
cuz because it's never too much
loving wise parents
are allowed to gush...

and to the mindful ascendants
the children we adore
it would be kind to do your darnedest
make us proud
stay true and warmest with every smile
often visit with laughter loud,
And sit and talk for awhile...

Cuz because
our circle is / of Life
wraps itself back around
yes, would be wise to love 'em Now...

Cuz just because.

I’ve noticed how impatient I’ve become.

Have you noticed yourself?
Looked at yourself
Outside of yourself?

As I get older I’m more in a rush
And MJ is totally legal in Sin City

Why hurry?

I’ve noticed how impatient I’ve been numb.

Did you know?
That Cush is an empire

Totally legal in Sin City.

1.        Dying of a day /    
reflections

on surfaces of oceans

burnt umbers blues and blood

the sinking sun

                       wounded

                             death is red

before the dark  /

           ruins...



2.

It is the sensation of ripples
when supple pink linguist
leaves poetic yearning

fires touching
on nape and taste,

lifting countries and new
conquered kingdoms
of skin

gooseflesh and earthquakes
blood as lava

rushes in
     kabuki cheeks
          secret joy begins

red and parched

sudden seas of thirst
parts / our senses / must
breathe ...
(like art)

Magic whispers kiss
because touch enpassioned
is red
    and wish.



3.

Love lorn letters

poetic bliss
     spontaneous wings born


each ache and void
trumpeting words

when distance fails
the hearts which speak

red

the oceans felt
the tides that ebb
hurried pleas

desperations
red

when letters
lose the dying magnitude

the importance
and impetus

that love must free

clarion song
of hearts are red

as are all
kisses (scarlet)
even to air
and dead

begins on such lips

red....

My love is like a river that flows up the mountain

And how my life rains on high, quenching the thirst

of death.

(A Verb):

Love is the gift you

Give to whom you care about,

Thinking of her before

Yourself.

Fearless ageless

No darkness barking nightmares

In your beauty

Sleep.

Do you follow what you believe,

A follower saves no one, praying for divine relief

Oh

"No body knows the trouble I've seen..."

Do your beliefs beg to follow steps toward

A heaven created by a collective fantasy

Human ministry

A reward for not doing

"Bad deeds"

The road to hell is paved...

Here

The wilderness and kindness slowly fades...

With Good intentions

Oh

I meant to, never was good @ dat

Do *** ****** do the dew

The deeds need done

All good ones...so

Believe or follow

No one

But true to thy self is true to all else

Shadows follow

Believe you are the

Sun....

Feed the needy everyday

With truth every way

Believing need not pray

And knowing

Builds our better days...

Life follows

The sun.

What doesn't **** you EMOTIONALLY makes you stronger, so it's said.

Much more mature

White woman

Says Nubian girl talks too much,

Proof in the chocolate pudding

Being number one

White woman laughs by herself

To herself

Lost in dispositions.

Hello ?