Is not in my pen,
Not in these words.
Not in my breath,
Speaking broken verbs.

It not my book
Of lost sorrows,
Or writing audascious
Hopes for lost tomorrows.

It is when I fight
To get out of here,
Lost in the poem
With life oytside so near.

The curse of words
Is that we are there but not,
Writing thé moments
Where present eas forgot.

I take the time
To take the time,
A moment in its pursest
With no reason or rhyme.

Just be.

I fell into the commerce
Of trading looks with you.
And once your stock rose,
I invested a lifetime.

Just bemeath chosen words
And rewrites,
There clamours a poem raw
And true,
Free of likes and critique,
Above bandwagon scociety,
There a poet can believe in
The art of the experience:

I am alive between each word,
The hand on fire
As sudden urges froze me
In the actiin of my words
To jot them down,
What captures my life like
The inspired word,
And the need to capture a moment
On paper,
Where I was is now instilled
Like the metaphor of life,
And I am one with the unspoken,
As i have stopped and
Undone.
Words pause me,
Propel me,
And I freeze in the flow
Where life happend
And i stop all things
To write it down stuck
Between the stanzas.
The poet can write life,
Rarely does the experience
Saturate the time of a writer.

I hold on to your goodbyes,
Wish I didn't expect it,
But eventually you come back,
Just like I suspected.....

In in your company
I just want to be myself!!,
Because your gonna go
Again, at least il be the same,
Still by myself......
Before we say hello again.
And I stand unknown,
Feeling all the pains,
*** is the aches,
Just wanna stop my brain,
BBEACAUSE IT TWITCHES
WITH YOU IN ALL THE THOUGHT,
I'VE BECOME UNLIKE ME,
AND I DONT KNOW WHO I AM,
BLOWING OUT THE SPEAKERS
WHEN THEY PLAY OUR JAM

And I stay in the place
Where all the emptiness goes,
Maybe is I could be myself,
A self I dont even know.
And they tell me to stay away
From you,
But I knock myself out
And your there when I come to.

BECAUSE IM NOT MYSELF
BY MYSELF!!!
I LOSE IT ALL WHEN YOU'RE AROUND!
*** IS THIS,
HELLO, GOODBYE,
My pride don't make a sound,
Who I am,
Il always remain the same,
When you come back,
Il be awake again,
Because only you know my name....

Silent flattery's kiss,
Womb of lumens,
    A touch of images
Thighs of dark stars...
   Silver moon in a quarter dance,
Splice of lifetimes,
   Back arches in the luminous
Glow,
Nebulous hair,
Forest of galaxies
   In a game of light
Backdrops like Aztec hair,
Fluorescent serendipity,
   The words choked
From the thousand times
We live and feed
   Upon Andromeda's blink,
Surely to be alive
    Is to die reborn among
The dreamscape of her arms.

First Encounter

A beginning
      A seedling
Fertile youth
        Ageless gaze;
By passion they were found,
    And by passion they were lost.

*---------*

    Holding Hands

Buried with touch
    Amidst a new language.
The world beats
    Pulsating claritys,
Falling confusions,
      Dreaming awake....

*--------*

    Smiling For Him

Embers of hope
    Shedding darkness,
A surge of feeling
    Insisting existence:
The soul alive!

*--------*

         First Kiss

Flames of magnetic touch,
   Fire knots in the stomach,
Without words
    Wet syllables speak
Unlacing Passion's verbiage.

*---------**

    Saying I Love You

Children of the dust
    Reach a balance
Within the universe;
Destiny unfurls
In a creation of words
Speaking like children of God.

Oh my Lord,
I pray unto the sweetest sin,
That my eyes have gathered a harvest
And in the image of your perfection,
I saw what angels see;
As I walked in the morning shadow
A door half opened,
My eyes curious as a fragrance
Of blessed perfume gathered
And a dove perched at the window.

Lord,
I saw perfection,
Though in the flesh nothing
Is perfect,
I cannot here in words duplicate what
Beauty lay naked,
But the poet in me longs for
The words to embrace such beauty:
Flame of the sun
    Burns amidst sensations,
The shadow of my desire
     Cast from the flames.
There in a garden of flames
       She lie naked.....    the senses open
Magnetic eyes,
     The passion of lovely embers
        She entered through my eyes,
The windows of my soul,
     And I longed to be with God,
The thoughts though unholy
Flow into a desirous nature ,
     What I see is my creation,
Perception of my conception,
      Oh she is crystalline clarity,
And I am revealed to be only a man,
     Truth of desire,
Transparency is all that remains,
     And she is the truth of the moment.

Lord,
Forgive this sin,
I walked away with no soul,
For it stayed behind
To be born through the sight
Of She, of Her,
And in the glory of her nature,
A Poet Saint is born.

This little life of mine,
I'm gonna let it shine:
      Even with dark forces
        Riding in like four horses
      Making corpses
     Of all that I love
      And care for,
    What are they there for
      When all that I dare for
      Is taken into the apocalypse
        and my life gets alot of lips
     Talking, but I walk in no man's land,
       I am the island to myself
       The force of my nature
        Dont let the hater
         Bother me now or later,
       This little life ,
  Crazy majestic,
       The belittled strife,
       I can just taste it,
Bittersweet,
      I'm gonna gonna let it shine;
     And the darkness surrounds me.

Be you with me,
And I'm just frustrated
Don't mind me,
And youn dont,
Because I give my all
And it's actually what u needed.

Lost in the entrapment,
A small amount of your waters...
A sip and for the thirst
Of the Ded, truth in pieces
Float in an ocean of lies.

Masks you wear
Are all the faces that made
You hide away.
They may hate you in reflection,
But don't let that be what you
See or feel everyday.

Behind the mask
Is a cage,
Only the real can set it free.

Mask off
And all I know Is real,
I have no friends.

This tells me I'm running
Out of titles,
The air is coming
From the north and stirring the trees.
So now you know the weather.
And well the title tells the time,
So this is the end of this
Poem, and now sports.....

And how I became you
Was a unanimous glory
That filled every breath
With with "Hallelujah"

And there for the saviour
Was the creation of your
Bathed light, that which birthed
The man I want to be.

I knew you from before
When our melancholic grace
Danced the beleaguered Edge
And the fall from grace wasnt
So bad,

When the pale moon danced
And passed the dark rose
Of your neck to my vampiric
Lusts, bllod lines of our intense
Passions.

You cannot see how i need you,
There would be no air
To fill the lungs of the world, as the last breath will call your name....

This is how:
And the Heavens parted
When the seductress was given
Its first light born of the
Fires in your eyes delivered
By the scorn of my regret,
Words are juat figments of thought,
But here in the poem Melissa's
Beat is adorned with Deds
Conundrum;
How can I die into you
When I am more alive
And torn from my usual pain,
The right of passage is delayed,
I cannot leave the sorrows *****,
I am Ded inside,
I destroy the beauty inside,
I am lost because U ignited
The life inside the words
And alive is having never lived.

Yes I love you.

But your reasons:
I am slave to thoughts
And i am everywhere
But never where i should be,
And in my rush i trip
Over your miracle,
How to break the curse im your
Soul with the blessed curse of
My love?

I quesyion the moon in your eyes,
The luminescent smile
That lit my way back from
The poem,
And i return only because
The poem wiill reflect
The magnitude of you.

It was death that brought me
To you.
And life is more with u in it,
Show me how to live woman,
Bevause I was Ded,
Now I cannot see past the third Heaven.
Because my eyes are only
Visions of your essence,
I want to bathe you with
My touch,
Adorn you with my kiss
A crown of them so you know
I blaspheme the world
As you are my new one.
I crave you because the hunger
Is a practical wanting, needing
Only your miracle,
I broke thee chains and declared
Myself enslaved to your every need and want
Fulfilled as the man
Only wants one woman,
The unclaimed has no calling,
So you cannot hear me.

Your reasons hurt,
They blled questions
And entertain the fool,
And for Mellissa,
A thousand times Ded,
But without you I do not
Belong here,
The world is not for me.
And before the words exalt
You, before I say
One last time i want your body
Becoming a noun on your breast, a verb on your thigh,
Every ****** a stanza...
Melissa adorned with legs on eternal
Wings falling from graces tears,
Take me Home,
You are not here for my life
But to pass me into death
For the reasons you simply cannot.

I will not face it without you.
And what else can a poem say
But only that i love you
And my soul will find you again
In the next life
Dancing with u in 122.

A star and its flurry of appearing
Brethren as they push their way
To the eyes that wish to see,
Its shine which was not there before
And in seconds reaches what took
Millennia to reach the globe of
One's eyes, and the glory that falls
Upon us, what does one do with this?

It slowly comes together
In the depths of the heart,
The hope of forgotten dreams well up and spill their way into existence,
We constellated the sky not in any
One star to lay a wish on,
But instead have used a multitude
To feed the light that haunts
The black night.

And before the pieces come together,
Remember that the heart ,desirous
As it is, will gives the clue to hope and dream
And the key to putting it together,
One only need look up into
The starry abyss, fill it out
With what we can see and make
The dream a reality,
As fragmented as the sky may
Be,
It reflects the fragments of
The broken dream.

So I pierce into said sky,
Make my own constellation,
And when the stars are realigned
Into the order of remembered hope,
There I can see it,
I remember hope can change the stars.....

You were in the rain
With the drops gilded by the sun
Dripping on your smile with
Their moist wings.
The rain with its transparent
Eyes and crystalline forms
Reach out to me from memory,
Memory which is carried by every storm
Like tears on the window
Ringing you face to my mind.
They play my heart like liquid
Violins, an orchestrated thunder
In my pain.
I remember when you left,
It was raining
Pouring down like broken glass,
I feel your presence in every drop.

I hide behind the little things
So the world won't find me,
If you search hard enough
You'll know what really matters
And there I will see you.

The November air brushed
Against your scarlet dress
(I get lost in it's waves just
Reminiscing about it)
   It contorts to the shape
Of your body hidden beneath
And drowns the world in stillness-
  All the world's watching you.

  The littlest thing to me
Is the doorway to the meaning
Of everything I don't think about
And that's what makes them
So very big.

Echoes in a mist of words
                                   Echoes
Through the verse laid like light
                                   The luminous
Behaviour shredding the shadows
                                    The poet
Becomes liquid in the foliage of life
                                     They cannot see
The reflectors of the inner words
                                       A poems life
Is a scattered spectacle of past apparitions
                                        The body
Of words fills in the eye's void
                                        This phrase
Is the final perception of this piece

Surround yourself with words.

I awoke in faded aspirations
Fulfilling the solicitations
Of her body,
Crime and passion
Without order and no constraints
On what time it actually is:

And look at at you,
Your hungover yet its with
Slow motion in film,
A kodak momentum
And you end up taking my smokes,
Last time it was the beer,
Im smiling this time,
And I know my tequila morning
Still has a scent of lime,
And I find hope in your half
Finished smoke,
I light the cherry
And i taste your lips,
With you it just gets worse
And im grateful for it,
You have a grace
That refills my drink
Of accepted frustrations, the good stress,
Because we know what we see
Together, what faith to
Destructive grace,
The real struggle is to miss you
Like my bed does,
And yes I want my mistakes to mean something even if i never learn,
Il be with you,
And with the bad
You take the good,
And the bad you didn't
Know they had,
Loyalty and blind
Raptured moments,
Woman....
              
woman......

**** I feel alive

You inhabit the world
As a sculpture of the wind.
        
Your radiant forms,
Feast of light and shadows.

In the center of perception,
Watching you makes everything real.

Aroma of nakedness,
I devour your feast of forms.

Transfigurations, endless possibilities;
Your body is the the bridge over the abyss.

Empty streets,
       Squinting lights,
The ghost of a woman
      On her morning stroll,
Shadows of light,
       Birds constructing songs,
Coffee opens the invisible,
       Galloping into the day,
Ready for battle.

What are you thinking?
What are you thinking,
You kid
Who shakes between breath and rifle?

Answer with
Your disgust
In the this order:
Bullied,
Outcast,
Solace in the dark.

Let's rephrase the question
To help me understand:
Between your breath and the rifle
Are you even thinking,
Thinking while you tremble
Within 50 yards of more youth
Buried in your darkness
Remembering what was taken
From your youth,
emotionally charged
And confused more so
Than your family,
Your family whom loves
Could have ever dreamed of?

What sustains it?
Open soul,
The clarity of mind
Let loose in the garden of night.

    Orchestral branches,
Momentum toward the spiritual
   On a gleam in your eyes.

   Receive the moonlight
On the waves of your hair,
   The architecture of my seductresses.

The darkness spins its webs,
  Your touch invents a moment,
Reality unrealistic,
   The night,
        a fountain of desirous hearts.

Taken by yesterday,
I is fragment
Then reverse the shift
And remain the same.
Before the dawms
And stolen solitudes were
Enlightened,
I saw the person
And alone I'm watching
With the other in confinement.
As is, never was,
Love one love all,
Love thyself.

I felt the blade cutting
Tje mirrors eye,
She was cold like a fevers
Body,
Brazen when she held the
Life of me,
Lettimg go at the precipice
And falling into the extreme
Suddeness of who she
Became,
A razor cutting life from me,
Piecing me back together.

Such an immortal wound
To the momentary quiver.

Between us:
A mirror, a desk, a wardrobe,
My self and you, a bed and the
Enormous night.
There are moons splintered, a sleeping
Star, further still the morning.
There are dogs barking, a short wind
As you've taken the evening's breath,
The slow cooling of the earth
As birds humm and crickets chirp.
Between us the thirst that dwells
Under your caressing,
The distance is hard and slow,
A suffered savor of the momentum
Dragging each other slowly
Towards the living Waters that
Liquid lovers two, becoming one.
Your body wears my touch
And my soul inside your glance.
I die into you, you into me
At the precipice of sunrise.
Our names are far away,
Your transparent gown in the
Phosphorus glow.
Your eyes between is a great distance,
All that I ever hope to see;
Between your thighs an hour
And a thousand kisses.
I find that the distance between us
Is the love deeper than the abyss
Of the skies,
Between your ******* the distance between
Is the heart that beats rhythmic
To my soul,
Inside you we lose all flesh,
Between us souls.
Defenseless night,
Between us everything and nothing.

In my frenzy
I hustle past myself,
Stackin so high
Its an 8x4,
The walls close in as
I serve the fiend.
His paranoia becomes mine,
I hear his kids wandering
If they are going to eat,
I eat their suffering
And put it in a dope house
Of brokenness.
I am everyday
Who dies with every dub,
Every friend that became
Bug eyed and sleepless,
Losing all he ever was
And any love he ever had,
Blaming the world,
I am their worlds.
All that sustains me is addiction,
Yours is the judgement
I feel as you read this.

What is this place I have
Become?
The question becomes a mirror,
The mirror becomes a ghost ,.
The ghost is a demon
That mirrors the man i see.

I dont stop.
I keep the night in the sun,
My Loks carry the night,
I serve with no sleep,
I sacrifice to serve,
More faithful than
The pain in my soul,
The soul a little boy
Lost with the days when
The boy lived by the hand
Of the sun.

A boy dies,
He lives in death as a martyr
Spreading wings of regret,
Requiem for my kids,
I serve a destruction
With an identical sun,
And a mirror is.....
I am,
I was,
Mirror mirror.

It wasn't a smooth journey,
Twists and turns at every corner
And there were whispered words
Of a premature death among the discord
Of his selfish persona, he wanted to
Know what it's like when you die.

Along the extreme elongated portico
Held in captivating glory of falling sun
Attached to a man sitting on sunsets
Alone in a chair with an empty coffee cup,
Dedpoet wrote his final verses:

I am not the harmonious fluke,
But the orchestrated chaos of the soul,
I flee no challenges, save life, whose teeth
Have sunken deeply as two rivals
At once, I am the coronation of effigies
Whom laughed behind their masked
Intentions, I sit on the pedestal of irony.

I strung magic words like pearls
And spoke like winged creatures through
Gentle air, both volatile strings pulled
Because the violins were in tune,
Alas, I am the curse to mine own life,
The fool who believes in love,
Both lovely and perverse,
My soul is a crystal pale glance
With moist and starry eyed conflicts,
I destroy the flower with regrets.

And now at the precious end
I gallantly provide a word of lasting torture,
Meet me at the gallows,
A sun with a court of stars
And let us fade into the light
As though into the shadows.

At the crossroads
Where life takes a turn,
Just in from regret alley
When it starts to burn.
Begin again at the dead end,
Take a detour fall in love
And take in a best friend,
Keeping head just above
Drowning just around the bend,
Left turn,
Right,
It doesn't matter where time lends,
We end up at a choice
At the Crossroads,
We begin again.

The boy in me weeps,
Because you made a man.

Where is the simple hope
Of a bipolar beauty,
Failingntje hopeless hope,
Defiant of time the rejection
Of God in your goodbye,
I feel a martyr though
Having known you and sacrificing my stainless heart.
Your emptiness
Is a blank page and I feel
Like I have writers block,
And in the correlation
We become the dust of words
Unspoken,
In the silence in the sea
Waves crash on
Each other,
Setting sail the art of your
Self,
Walk away woman
The only way I know you were ever here
Because the sunsets over
The empty oceans only
Exist is the word of the
Unspoken,
Whispers of a presence,
The instable beauty you
Cursed me to love.

Or the idea of it,
Who wants to be alone?
I'm a freaking poet for God's sake,
Miserable like Bukowski
And romanticism like Neruda,
Together that makes me a hopeless romantic.
Then kick in Valentine,
Will you be mine?
How bout you or you,
No dude not you,
And love is like a berserker picking flowers
Chopping petals off with
A war ax, delicately and dreadfully.
Love, what is it?
Where is it?
And being alone don't help worth a ****,
But I know one thing,
It makes for some interesting deep
Poetry,
Though I'd rather be with someone
And in love counting the ways......

I'm just some guy who knows
Pain just like you,
Who fell in love deeply and fell
From her grace:

I am in a room filled with language,
The density of words full of memories -
Talking to them I talk to her.
      Night grows darkly
With obstinate scars on her skies,
    We have tied a destiny
In different directions,
    We end in the same destination.
You,
       Me ,
We,
     Us....
I explode like a sun on a depopulated world,
No one to witness a beautiful destruction,
     I am alone
Talking to air
       Talking to you,
Your presence is a nameless womb,
     Carrying the birth of my world,
You're missing turns in my skull,
    I cannot forget you
    The room fills with a pause;

The words take your shape,
You become the living waters,
   Daily I drink of you,
But I thirst for your fountain.
   I reach out to you,
The mist is real and you are there,
Weightless,
Tears form at my eyes.

Now you are here in these words
Navigator of language,
Piercing the syllables at every
Spoken word,
Your roots are deep in the sky,
Your love ripples in time
Like crashing waves at the life
Of my shores,
I write the fabric of the past,
Which is now an open wound,
    The echoes haunting
And dispersing sculptures of your body,
I am surrounded by language,
   Your memory a poem,
Talking to me talking to you.

Under the new garden
A rain falls:

And the thoughts like birth,
Drops of life on life,
The cycle and it's seasons.

And repetition is insanity,
The rain does not stop
And a flood of thoughts drown
The hope of seedlings.

Hands still fresh of earth,
The lukewarm feeling of singular
Gratitude for such a small thing,
And a rain from God;
     Why drown something so
     Wonderful that fills me?

I do not understand,
Today was a good day,
         Nostalgic and scattered
         Anguished at the sky,
         The rain stops cold,
         A realisation forms;
      
         It is the action that is
         Pleasurable, the moment
         One takes to toil in the earth,
         The rest, like the seeds,
         Like God,
         Like the rain
         Is all just part of the garden.

An idea forms;
      We become the stillness in motion,
Between seeing and making,
     Contemplation or action,
The words cause us to act.

      We dare give eyes to the idea,
And pen to paper becomes
     A resurrection of presences,
Poetry,
      Like life writing itself,
A day becomes dateless,
     Life lights up these words,
We walk the path of inspiration,
     Truth lived and suffered ,
          Shared rage
           Shared passion,
              Shared abyss,
                 Shared love.....

In the end of the verse
The poet transfigures
Inspiration into incarnations,
Given as a sacrifice of self:

All that remains are the ghosts,
We are siblings in the void.

I move from the shadows
    To your intrinsic body:

My touch
     Dissolving
         Like the horizon,
The radiant pulses throughout
     Like scattered embers
Under celestial forests,
     Light and dark dance
Like a hymn of the solstice;
    Touch,
Naked light,
     Bodies of elliptical passion;
The light in your eyes
Makes the love we make real.

When they saw the first womb
Swooping to all that God had
Breathed into the Earth;
Even the angels fell
Cutting their Heavenly umbilical cord
Drifting alone and finding mortality
In an echo of the first sorrows.
    Even the angels fell
And flew among the wild Dahlia
Devastated at the temporary beauty
Of it all losing wings
And even hope with the impatience
Of a moth to life's flames;
   A final coup de Grace
With a blessed suffering of crimson
Wounds and crystalline years;
  
    Even the angels fell
And we are but men falling
Like vermilion embers in a solar
Flare of time,
Even then the angels knew
That men were wounded stars
That glimmer with such HOPE
And fade into God's eternal memory.

My hands open the curtains
Of yesterday,
I am lost in the scenery
Bigger than today.

People at the pass,
           Past people
Through a concubine of memory
           Almost insatiably
They remember.
           The shadow from light cast
On open wounds,
           A meadow of grass whistles,
The sounds of children growing
           The invisible in front of us
           Days stretch like morning awakenings,
They are in the bedroom,
           The curtain brushes violet walls,
Coffee clenches a fist in the air,
          The morning mist choking on the sun.
A stain of kisses as she remembers
          The spill of passion
Torn out from the night into a constellation
           Un named
He is walking back,
With coffee cups in hand,
Back to the night before,
         Edges of forever
As home becomes the void
         They fill out the abyss with
Memory surrounded by life
                 Home
The stab of the sacrifice
         The door is revolving
In a collapse of time
         Daily they drink of another
Looking back
                 Moving forward
Memories clear the mist......

Im afraid of the words
My father might say
As my mother watches from
An eternal kiss,
And school is not a notion ,
It ia the reality of three lil girls
While I hustle for the groceries.
      I become a shadow,
      Working between the light,
      I want to lose myself
      In mama's tortillas,
      Chorizo and eggs with
      All the love I had the time
      To feel.

I am 5 am. Standing at Labor
Force and hear the words
Curse me, their whispers
Of  My failures only push me,
I grow stronger,
My children grow hungry,
There goes the corner store,
And my gun feeds my children,..
The metaphor does not exist
Here, this the real,
A westside everyday,
Poverty in action,
Rich in the sorrows dance,
Life spreads its wings,
I am left in the shadow.
I hate the metaphor,
Because you will never truly
See the truth of my words.

There is a mountain that every child
Always looks up to, and the name
Of that mountain is Father.

Guide of the labyrinth,
Weaver of strength and protection.

Not unlike the stalk of a tree,
I have seen you age without grace
Familiar with shadow and thorn,
Your enormous branches triumphant
At the core of my spirit.

Vanquisher of fears,
Vessel of the child's adventure.

And you are a guide to the clouds,
A hidden tenderness that allowed
Me to grow, I will never forget
The lessons you taught me,
And the ones you let me learn
On my own.

Father of my life,
The old man is a peak to the stars.

Ive never rushed to death,
Under a cylinder scope
A peek into the surreal:

A dance of shadows
Filleted by burnt light,
Across the portico
Under the middays thought
A girl under my eyes
Holds the glare of our only
Star;

The nocturne and his ways
Mysterious like a woman's
Touch of lips,
Kiss the sky under
The constellated passions
And in the moment....
A girl!
A man sees the destiny's
Plow through fields
Of the grained aches past gone,

A girl subdues the terminable,
Just a breath before the
Dust settles,
A sigh of life.

Though their bodies were not strangers,
They did not know each other.
She needed no storytelling,
Nor promises that would never
Reach the ears of God.
He gets up and leaves,
If she's lucky, she will be asleep
When he does,
And forgetting or remembering
A dream is never a choice.

You are the companion I speak with
     In the abyss, intimately.
In perfect spirals,
    And in the silence you are formed,
A silhouette of words draped
In dreams from the deepest dreams,
      Mistress.

        You trace a lineage
From the words of Eden
And guide my hand to forbidding hope.
      The echoes of my echoes
As my voice becomes your tongue,
      A polyhedral mirror
Reflecting a thousand embers of thought,
     Fire in the ink.

     We are alone-
Until we return to this place,
Back to this world,
Back to this house,
Back to this room,
And I am left in a tomb
With no lust for life,
I lose myself  to my flesh,
Alone in a sea of faces,
      Faces that see my naked being.

I can't take it,
So I wrap it up
As a gift of words,
And poetry becomes
An emotion,
And I can be,
And I can live,
Here right now,
Poetry,
Life in words.

Lyrical waterways,
Prepare for a backhanded slap,
Then a second blow;
I don't care about your personal
Problems, as long as it's written
Poetical, you and your weeping
Streams with a deluge of emotional
Lamented problems are tolerable
As long as it's written with some class.
        Now give me your poems,
Though only few draw water,
I do not claim to be the best,
Merely a lover of it,
I will heart you, you will see
Lightning and like the child of a nymph
Be happy to see the fetching comments
I leave to you.
     I will squeeze sweetness from you,
All it takes is a click, light footed words
I read beforehand when you copied
Off a poet you thought no one had
Read before( I study a lot more than you know)
Ever the herdsmen
I preach a doctrine of poetic originality,
And lately I see few worthy,
Myself included,
Now pucker your words like lips
And lavish this poem with a heart,
Or don't, I am real,
Or fake, and I only love poetry.

All along the rain road,
Stopped, like a solitude ray
Escaping the glooms grasp,
Along the ways aglow,
Evening,
Perhaps morning,
Mixed waters in the midst
Of a formless cloud,
      Colored grey or under
The brightest light,

A wandering mind
Never at its now,
     Only then can he be,
Occupancy time
And bellowed grief through
   Mists of thought,
And luminous it may,
How stars see city's night,
    His cloud follows into
The sun,

All along rain road
Slithered in presence,
A wet summer heat
Forms in the cab still,
      Rolling in a flutters drop...

A self crowned sorrow
Wears the plumaged men,
And beauty is in the momentary truth:

    The concrete jungle offers
    Dazzling constraints,
    Into the ruins of their cities
    They become broken statues
    Gnawed by thoughts.
    The sun sets for a last time
    In the lively ruins.

Hearts break, minds suffer.
A man of stone passes
A man of stone,
They unearth lucid dreams
Passing by and only wondering
What resurrection could be had
In a simple "hello".

    To each an island
    In a tower of silence,
    Their light builds
    Shadows that haunt.

They pass the lovely forms,
Green pines on a shore,
Rolling hills of oak,
The swaying wind
Kissing the sea.

     In the ruins they dwell,
     Propping high into empty skies,
     To stretch their senses
     Into the living hour:
     The truth escapes
     Their brimming cups.

Anger exists.

This giant mirror reflecting past.

Rarely is justice blind
When it comes to color,
And I pick up the bitter facts from
The daily reports and place them
Next to my embattled soul.
I sink deep into my chair,
Pen in hand and wonder what
The hell a brown man can write
about the black man's experience.
I conflict with my poetical asphyxia,
Life isn't all love and wonderful sorrow,
I stare at the cold reality,
I believe if i wrote about anything
Else this chair would be a grave,
He wrote about flowers they said,
He wrote about dreams they said.

But no,
Those dead men have no words,
They bare their skin and died for it,
A murderous prowl on the ebony
Children with benevolent excuses
As to why it's legal,
They laugh so hard behind closed
Doors and fist bump in secret,
Stubborn roots dictate the taught
Generational hatred,
They find fruit with their hate
And split men from color refreshing
The mirror, reflecting reflections.

And when all hell is broken loose,
A people's voice is heard
Wit windswept ears,
Like God and the first word,
We will hear it only once,
The avenging fires burn in the hearts,
Though hate with its unending roots
Creeps into the darkness
Against the atrocious scythe of ignorance,
We will remember a voice.

"Black lives exist."
Yes they do.
As does hatred
and ignorance.

For whom does this poet speak?

Third eye blinded,
And the pictures you
Sent wouldn't download
When I couldn't make
In time and the spaces
Make for long distance relationship,
I can hear another voice,
Retaliation of the missing,
Work into an alcoholic
And rage the machinist
By needing more and more.

It wasn't enough that I'm
Impaled onto supports,
The kid should be mine,
Just can't be there
So I'm replaced by a loser
Who refuses to make money,
But can make me when I'm not around,
Away to support you,
Supporting me,
I in me
Without you
And working for the nothing
I've become.

The anthill erupts,
A deluge floods the Amazon
Of grass and crittery things.
There in the open wound of earth
Lies a fallen gift from the fire
Above that rains embers of fire.
A chunk of life that gives life,
Fallen from the giant walkers,
Its tube shape can feed thousands.
And the water hardens the earth,
The flood done for the day,
They begin their march upon
The gift.

Like a moonbeam
Brighter than the Daystar,
I am blinded by
Woman in a soft
Midnight garden;

When the day kisses
The night,
The light is weeping.

I walk alone.

The soul with no
Absolution
Is an infinite impossible.
My throat caught
In a tearful choke,

The missing song
Under the sun
Is the Moon's tender
Presences.

Love escapes
Into a masked misunderstanding,
Another misunderstanding
Hides the Father in me
Under this misguided wing

I quiver under a fools blade,

I love like a child
Lost in a forgotten story,

Missing.

The moon carves her claw into the night,
Nothing is alive except
The fathomless infinity of darkness
Sulking in a white solitude.
      The lavished night
      Lays her hair upon
      A lonely pulsar,
      The body of silences
      Which bring ideas to life....
There is only the word
In the deep abyss of thoughts
And death is but a Nightstalker,
The sad desires envelope the lone mind
And trembles the broken heart.

The tremors of light cut away
To an absurd blackness,
The night is alive and distant,
The moon submerges
Into sapphire waters
Running in silence toward
An empty sky black.