When the delights
Became the norm,
And the spring roses
You planted failed because
You bought that stupid bike,
And my personality
Lost its person,
When one more is all we needed
For an empty bottle
To match the drapes of our
Talks,
This place I loved
Became a Hell,
And home is where the
Heart is,
Surely he is a real estate agent.

Slow breathing-
Taste the sol in perception,
Sensless as the fear grips,
A wry smile
In a confusion hung by mind:
The living room table is too small
But the grandiose thought
Kills joy scrolling
On a thousand beats,
Taking panic
Wherever the people roam,
Grazing on the mind,
Slowly melting summer
Cones,
Alone writing strength
On a page soaked in
A cold sweat

Just one more time,
In a time that is yesterday
In footsteps at the edge,
Your shadow over my grace,
My grace over the light
Darkened by truths
I dont want to hear.

Just one more time,
Lie to me;

Evening when dark trails
Beg for weary steps,
Forward never straight,
Long ago I  looked back,
A storm of your gaze
Into the deep night
A deep premonition
Shatters my core
And hope is a reason to doubt;

Lies returning
What sinister words
Do cast themselves by the noose
Of your voice,
Enter the storm
A thunder repeats with
A missing remorse
Filling the echoes of your
Missing self...

Lie to me,
Kiss me,
The poison laced
Eithin the spectrum,
Colorblind

Lie to me,
I will listen as the day leaves,
Into the nocturnal
I return,
A spring of deaths
The footsteps echo
In another time
Where you invent my self
To love you is a lie,
And i believe in you.

Passionate night
Regret the sun,
And I am my DNA
A father 99.99
Question is will I keep it
100?

It is as though the fire wears
Them,
     A slow burning sacrifice between
Ecstatic generations,
    A sort of martyrdom comes in the
Line of each death,
    The endlessly bloodstained embers
Burnt beneath the tears
   Of those left in the wounds of time.
Alas,
    Every seedling is a grain of energy
In the marrow of the earth,
    So alone with so many
Spilling themselves like fountains
In an anonymous well.
     The question remains
As their days become fewer
Like the few Winter's leaves.
        They enter one another
By the eyes,
They speak in tongues of season
      And yet come upon a last dawn
Seemingly with great depths
Of abyss in a solemn heart.
        The dreams that survive them
Are children lost in a mist,
    Stuck in a whirlwind
Surrounded by Dust.

The sun round about
Turn.

Night teases with other
Days in other places.

The sun under alien skies,
Night carrying distant days.

3am or same day yesterday,
Now,
Opened the blinds,
Pitch black,
A dance of shadows,
Watching slumped
Full attention at a moment's
Snap,
Order in the chase,
Cigarettes steady stream
Lights flicker at eye's corner,
     Animal nocturne
Domesticated wild.

What are the answers?
The question beckons tomorrow
And the magnetar glows
In a faint doubt,
The eyes do not lie
But are blind to the touch
And all the world is misunderstood
When there is no return
In a favor,
Glorious beast in the concrete
Jungle,
Know that humanity is
A drive chasing the storm,
Where the river runs wild
The passionate man drinks,
Heavy heavy
Is the pure heart
Within the confinés
Of man's crucible.

That silence is a drop
And the echo ripples.....

     Fall upon the deaf solitude,
I speak to myself
In a room full of eyes
shut away from everything
    And you are all online.

The doors do not open
In a pathway linked by
By hands that reach but
Only the eyes can touch,
    Where are you now,
    A notifications heartbeat.

And the silence is
And isn't because you were
there I never got to hold u.
   Speak to me,
Send priority,
   Click, wait, the silence
In no one's pesence.  

Alone with everybody,
Truly offline in world wide web.

So i take into my senses
The passion of your forbidden,
And the journey of
Nocturnes under pale
Lumen began:

Insertion,
Power between two
And one is all that remains.
Kiss the sky,
Feel thé embers burn under
The palms désire,
There in that secret place-
A release; fluidity,
Half moon lit
The arc of her back,
Luminosity,
A constellated passion;
A taste for life,
The delectable night....

That wall man hits as a child
Would still on the floor,
Anger,
Which breaks men into pieces
And scatters him among those he loves,
The anger which held down
Can turn into an explosion.

That same anger which calls
Men to become something else,
And that something else becomes
Regret, that regret becomes a plea
Of forgiveness, which to himself
He cannot give.

Anger, which triggers paranoia,
And that paranoia into rage
And men are sent to early tombstones;
This anger is that of a poor man
Who has the world to suffer.

Anger which tears the man apart
And makes the soul cry for help,
And the soul breaks down into
A corridor of sorrow,
This anger that stains the man
And consumes like fire,
An internal burning.

Life and other things
Have kept us apart all these years,
Since the day we never said goodbye.
And now grey sprinkles my hair
And I think I'm getting mature....
But I still live hungry in heart,
The sound of your whispered words
At my neck,
Our bodies locked in dance;
Oh the hell with it,
I'm still crazy about you!

These old sidewalks
Are still being poured,
Uncemented in my mind's
Evicted memory,
   Still as I walk them
With regards to the past,
When everything is changed,
    I loosened the locks on
Memoires that fall off the side
Of cliffs onto
Some ravine no one will recognise as once up so high.
    Here on the street,
With knuckles clamped
As if another Street fight might occur,
Though the innards of
My seasoned being
Archive the rotation
Of memory's grip,
    Such a daunting thing
To be grateful for all
The pain,
    I imagine ducking from
Grazing bullets,
  Eating laying down in the living
Room, privately
     To my self,
The self takes refuge here.
    A silent thing that creeps
Up
When times seem bad,
    One cam remember the worst,
And that 12 year old
Would smile,
Laydown and have some
Dinner shaking his head
With a humble smile.
    I think it's OK
To walk the worst
When things are bad,
   It's being like an old soul
Waving at a new born,
Experience is funny
Like that.

Who am I now that Im living?
Feel the crowd in
A lonely room,
Reality is just a dream away:

Fall upon the knife
And cut the eternal
Moment.

When are you going to see
That all I do is love
And the intention is pure?

All the world's a blur,
Only the poem is real.

And I need to find myself
While searching for you,
And where the hell are you?

A soul id twilight's gaze,
The fool becomes a martyr.

Telling me what I am and
What I should be,
Who are you anyway?

Take the Word,
Already spoken,
All that is left
Is to live.

That the days shard through
Memory,
Emapthic broken glass,
Lethargic night
Emptied wine cup
Droplets like shunned moons,
The poem remains
And there metaphorically,
So does all the world.

You never know what kind of filling
That chocolate ******* you
Pull out the box is,
As long as it's obligated to taste
Like Chocolate in the beginning.


And the aftertaste like a cold lover
Gone into his arms,
Thin blanket on winter's crest
Filled with yellow snow,
Summer's lemonade in brisk
Moonlight when all the world
Is fooled by your glory,

And you can never choose how they love you,
Guess as long as they do is
What matters,
No matter how bitter the ****
Inside really is.

Far away.
Just on the other side
Of a grey rainbow,

Under a canopy
Of children smiling
Longing for yesterday.

I am home everywhere.

Lost girl,
      Daughter of fire,
      (She wears black armor)
Raining your embers
          On the ecstatic boys,
          You sacrifice a piece of
Your innocent luminosity.
        
     Lost girl,
Ancient fire within,
        Your heart is an obsidian castle,
Formidable walls on a heap
Of broken lies( the boy wears white armor)
      
   Lost girl,
Holding bloodstained lilies,
       Crying the fire through
Crystalline eyes,
   Find yourself
And open your heart like a wound.

It's nothing new
In a prison
Or office
Because both shape
A prisoner.

It's the same
Geometric shape,
Because both
Percieve a prison.

I stood upon the horizon
As the sun crowned the day,
The people became beautiful,
Each in their own momentary truth:

The sun star rose
And the light mounted the sea,
The livid wound that is man and woman
Became a broken statue in stone
Flawed by time and suffering;
Death in a time of life!

     In the city an ebony man
     Holds the pyramid at the bottom
     Of the scheme, he is unearthed
     By a bullet not colorblind,
     The song of a lost boy from
     The wonderful ghetto explodes
     And a stone is thrown.

The ripples are;
Eyes see, man feels
His heart yearns for better or
Something more, all he can turn
To is less, shadows of history link
Themselves in a chain and drag
Man into himself, there a giant
Mirror hovers over his sky.

    New York, Saudi Arabia, Bangladesh.
    Shadow cover the heart and man
    Becomes a feverish animal
    That swarms himself,
    Proud and lonesome I see below
    His heart  and money uprooted his
    His natural flow
    (Domesticated bipeds acting out like
    Four legged beasts, though sadly
    Man knows it and does what?)

And yet there birthed within himself
Was given a gift so lovely as the forms
That man throbs with hope;
Stretching the heart into the living
hour man can see the light,
Truth comes into being
And fills himself with an ironic
Harmony. Here, now, we will
Never be this beautiful again,
The beauty is heavy with minutes
As each fade into eternity's
Shimmering river.

    Man's thoughts are split,
    They meander, think something
    Wondrous and split again
    Becoming entangled in a
    Delta of endless rivers flowing
    With the actions of ignorance.
    Must the rush of life be lived
    So rushed?

Day after day,
His mind cannot embody the forms,
The hostility grinding at each other,
The mirror inside liquefied
Into hopelessness and the body
Of his body becomes a tree
Of actions, risen out history's
Roots, roots which lay seeds,
Seeds which become his actions.

In the Roundabout
Whether on either océan's
Side,
A circle persists and choice
Is a beast grazing,
Wether or not the soul
Exists
Bringing the toll is
Hardly worthy poetry,
Still the beast turns
And the toll left at home
Brings the Roundabout
One more verse

With the light down
From the daily round,
And eyes closed to see
Within the soul,

Your image luminous
Me,
           The dawn of you
Is enormous,
       The flower
Inside the nocturne,
     I am blinded
By your light,
      Feeding your flower

Darkly in a dance under shadows.....

How your arms reach
Like the moonbeams
Over the Mexican jungle,
Only the smallest tips
Of light enter over her canopy,
    The vanity of
The first moon of the wet season,
The escaped light that hits
The grounds,
  How little the canopy
Can be seen when
Planted so firmly to
The ground!

The animal
Which inside sleeps
But calls, beckons.
A forth right to fire
Burning in the blindest rage
And calling it man.

There is a natural melancholy
To this season,
The departing leaf
And it's burnt graces
Of a cool wind that chills
The Aloness inside,
   Songs seem to fall away
From birds,
   Here there is hope in
The fleeting moments,
A promise of cold
And the warmth of Winter's
    Insisted grasp.

Where the walls close in,
That rock between hard
Hearts,
Shaping and molding,
Between the forgers fire
And the metals heavy memory,
Short of the total éclipse
In a ring of your presence,
There i am,
There I remain,
Dont need to feel a thing
Because in the good and the bad,
The morning kiss
And the lonely couch at night,
The poetry u spoke
And the things we never said,
The life is not life after the story
Of us,
I stay,
Loving you and regretting nothing,
Regretting everything.

In a flash
I tore up the scapes unseen,
Where are you in all the
Fogged visions steamrolled into
The daily?
And I breathe,
Calm your dear pen
And bleed the world of its
Heart, there is only the Word of
Yourselves dear poets,
You are a fleece of luminosity,
Here in the darkness and
I am king of nothing,
Still I am a king!

Let the world wear
A dose of the words,
Light ut all up,
Lumens, poets.

Im a sunny day,
Everyone loves them,
But thee storm inside
Me rages on:
You make for a break in the rain
And you stand by me.
Will you always remain?
Like the scattered winds
On the eternal dance
Of waves,
There is no particular order
And where there was no order,
Now brings balance,
Stamd by me.
Being alone is just the deepest
Existence
  When the heart is a caged bird,
And all or nothing in a crazy
Madness that surrounds me,
Its all ok when
You stand by me.by me.

I am in the wandering hour
Closed up to myself
Within myself:

I struggle with death
While alive as I write from
The light of a shadow,
    In words I sculpture
A destroyed consciousness
Full of memory
Inventing the moment.

Saint of my struggles
Full full
The pain remains
From the days last breath,
   A form of light
Cowering beneath a burnt moon
    I embrace the fear
And fall beneath the emotional
Cracks,
   Nocturnally inclined
I am the light over lonely
Streets at home in the shadows,
    
Everything falls apart
When i speak to you its
like colliding
In a spiral,
Extinguished speech
I fumble back
In retreat to my world,
Inside my surrounded throne
I write the struggle
And I know I am.....

What say you of me?
Am I just a liar without
Metaphoric excuses?

He wears a lie upon the chest,
Key in the light opening the
Dark truth,
Stipulations of knowing.

And I am what I am,
Not what I was.
Though we should never forget
From whenst we came,
We were there once but never
Again the same.
The curse of time is
Not time but the fulfillment
Of it.

Flesh of words,
Truth of waters,
Around the rocks;
Eroding.

So it comes to this,
Im alive too.
Yes, but Im Ded,
I apologise Hellopoetry
For my misleading ways,
Lies, and attention seeking
Behaviour.

He is revealed,
Words flowed hopeful,
Hopeless ;
Shaping,
Misshaping,
An architectural verbiage:
Yes, A Poet,
And I am Ded inside.


Poet's reality,
Worse than the lie,
The words became a world.

Red running,
A blood flowing
Carrying deliverance,
Return to sender,
Heart beats thumping
What,

Red Running,
Colored sky
And the sun is yawning
In a daily perpetual
Death,

Red Running.

I began to think myself
Special in an expanse of odd,
Where nothing can stay
Only whispers in a mist....

Speak your desire,
Touch my soul to begin
Its proper growth and expose me,
I only speak of that which
Ignorant cannot fathom,

And the soul is a yo yo,
Life on a string of theories,
Swaying to the whistle
And play of God's plan.

I take you as you are,
Because you were;
Stranger here before me,
Never will I let my eyes
Be seduced by your
Broken road,
Once I was broken too,
And I cannot forget
The past is a glory,
Faithful, haunting,
As it was you were there,
As you are, friend,
I am here!

I want to chisel away
That outer layer that calloused
My voice,
  It's always toughest when
The words bounce of like
A hardened clay I did not
Mold,or intend to mold,
But shapes I don't recognise,
    Climb the ladder of your
Walks that you take alone,
Whenever you come back
You seem to have ascended
To some higher place,
    An experienced wall
Between us,
The hindrance of your sweet
Melancholy that seems to
Grace the dead petals at the
Sunken Gardens, where the water drowns
The plants but is still the life
Of all that is,
Breathe,
I want to understand
Why I don't understand,
And why each time I ask
You, you gaze up at me
And smile with those
Eye's of solitudes,
   You confine me to these graces,
And I forget why I asked
At all....

Tell me if you heard this one,
I was at a bar,
Ok that's it but the rest is mine,
I was at a bar last night
Sifting through slurs
And undulating whimper
On daily pestful subjects
I thought should be left at home
Or be drunken under the table,
           And in the jungle
Of blurr a voice like a tiny God
Came to me and said
Things that didn't make sense
    But sounded so alluring at
Ear's tickle,
   Such words shouldn't be
Wasted in a bar with a variety
Of urban sloths and various
      Creatures that remind
Me to leave the bar at 1
Because I might take one home
With me at 2.
      I took her words
And sifted through them
Like I imagine God would
When He makes a soul,
    Saying, you're going to hell
And your going to Heaven,
    Since I could tell her
Verbiage was passive and rehearsed,
     Such beauty wasn't meant to be spewed,
    Under a tortured light
That shows the faint
Lines under everything
I said to her,
" Baby, shut up, lets make beautiful music together! "
     Little did she know
She didn't have a chance,
     Poets never do against
A musician.
    Suckers!

It was when I chased a dream
Eyes wide open,
And the dream never dies,
Seeing the best when
Its gone,
Feeling the drops against my
Face coarsing my cheek
Like her beloved fingers,
Feeling with my heart and mind
After the loss,
When the morning smells
Of coffee in some store on some
Broken road when
home hits hardest,
That all the moments,
Every tiny bit and pièce
I took for granted never
Left me,
But live on in some dark corner
Of the universe where stars
Are born,
And I am alive between
The spaces.

I thought we could
Live off the land and our love.

Because I love you
I must be away,
I cannot be without you.

Someone please **** money,
Audacity in a bottled heart,
And what a fantastic
Thing it would be
To only need your love!

I cannot live in this world
If loving you is all I need.

Before the silent gaze
Took me into formless mazes,
A thought was born
And I took open the smallest
Smile,
Under oak trees with grandoise
Flare that shade
Had made undet the burning
Of my calloused mind,
The insanity took A moment
To greet me into the brisk
Warm hill country sun.

I am and that is all.
I take peace in this, my soul
It seems is at the beginning
Where the children are steady
And the pale face of death smiles
Understanding
I was here among the tombstone
Of politics long since repeated.

The bridges are math,
What lies under is theory,
A graviton in truth.
E equals
God's part:

Tiny cells
On a collision course
Missing everything
In between.

I longed of your spectre,
Though your flesh is no ghost
I find it a strange absence
In your presence,

Take a walk lost Lilly,
Walk with yesteryear and I was
But a thought in your
Graceful wounds,

Here now I am a stranger
And you know but a memory
In the shredded poetry
Of your father,

Who am I in your current eye  
A reach around the years
And father is still a mystery,
Daughter of the unforeseen,

There is a father here in me
And I don not KNOW who
I am in your mysterious light,
Shine on unfamiliar star,
Take me into your blossom

Only to die secondhand
And the most of my love is the veil
Of your unknowing heart...
Still I love you daughter of fire.

Like Crystal prizms
Under the dying light,
Saying goodbyes
To the one I love.

Like a whirlpool
Of boulders spiraling
On to my heart,
The weight of your
Presences.

Like fountains
Nesting in the sand,
Your kiss
Just too far away.

I'm caught in
Your metaphoric
Fallen star,
Like a shadow
Existing because of light,
I'm not hurting
Baby,
The pain is how know
It is real!

Some say Im moody,
Others still call me a bi polar
Twisted with devil's advocacy;

I call it dealing with your B.S.

I woke in the haze of
Tequila breath and a beautiful
Regret,
Naked and alone,
I can smell the nicotine on
The kiss that stayed in
My hangover,
An empty bottle with
The lipstick she left behind,
Round and round
The room spinning
And my head thundering
Like the storm of echoes
When the ***** seduced,
Funny im alone
And hurting, hungover
And grateful.

Sub-atomic strings,
Each flailing in a solar system
        Deep under eye's
Reach,
    Taken at present
With a grey gloom under
  A Fall wind's coming,
      The first steps
Like a toddler graduation,
       Vacating the spaces
In a perception one's own,
          
     Sub-atomic,
Tiny presences,
     A walk alone
Between the spaces.

Come to the well of your
Existence and draw the nothingness
Of reality; anguish there.
A chaotic order in the répétitions,
Lost in the cries, deafening-
Open the enslaved mind
And convince yourself
Of the righteous ignorance;
You are bitten by the shallow
Thought and driven by an
Empty success, grow bitter there.

And once you are unfulfilled
Rage against the spaces
Of each regret,
Set them ablaze with the desire
That makes dreams fickle
And rich men hold dear to paper,
Free yourself from everyday
And know you are the eternal
Wonder of your perception.

It took the time,
And a masterful stroke
Is fulfillment;
Memory,
it's Grace in hardship.

Despite the lack of
Mention
Nothing was lost,

A lifetime of eternals
Endurance,

(Only The Word can save
Your memory)

A Son builds
Holy wars,
Carpenter's slplintered
Edistence,

(Only the Word remembers
You, carpenter unspoken)

If you can remember
What your name was,
The doves will fly,

I would think a father
In the flesh,
Of the Father in the flesh.

If you weren't
A miracle,
What a great man you were!

(Joseph, The Word is spoken,
Mentioned you too)

And if one day I spoke
Of my father,
I'd say he was a carpenter,
Just a few words,

More than what I say,

( The Word and the words,
An afterthought built!)

Point the quarter moon
Hard pavement
With crecent curves,
Big on heart when villages
Raid for the totilla's final
Call,
Caps styled latest
Rest off the young and full hearted
Slowly contemplating
With final breath,
Grandmothers son
Took the last one she baked,
Aroz con pollo,
The taste leaving the earth,
Once bit,
A final savor
The West on no one's side
While quarter moon
Cries full.

And poetry is worthy
Either way you see it,
Its free,
And most wouldnt spare
A penny for these thoughts