“Is this place taken?”
She asks, a finger pointed
At my empty heart.

I’m known to ravage my grammar,
so no one can come get my answers.

I'm damaged,
a rapping savage,
an avid addict, with habits;

in the midst of a challenge.
I pass after I puff it,

I love it,
split it
and roll it
and hit it
like the snooze button.

I’m winning
hitting homes run with
this little written, its lovely.

Sprinting to the finish,
where I diminish the lucky.

Luck is some talent but backwards,
don’t progress with your *** first.

Face first into pavement,
payment for these spitting actors.

I'm not a "goodfella"
but my dinero is stacked up.

A real hero in snake skin,
with some venom thats backed up.

This is the release of a beast,
thats been unleashed with some passion.

I gather up all my madness,
and wear it in a dope fashion!

I’m flashing
like the lights behind my car as it’s crashing.

I’m just shooting at the stars,
with a pistol and laughing.

My luck is on fumes,
God knows how long it's lasted.

Now I laugh at the fact,
at the thought that i ever had it!

You breathe in.
A kiss:
how do you take
your coffee?

I prefer it sweet
and warm
against my lips.

I breathe in.
A story:
coffee grinds pour out
into wet garden soil,
later staining the clothes of my
kneading daughter.

She prefers water to coffee,
sober and clean,
though
studying dribbling coffee like
a drip of morphine.

How do you take
your coffee?
I reply.
A revelation:
most mornings I make it fresh,
but the *** brewed overnight
somehow tastes sweet.

River flows from every side & corners,
It makes new directions and ways,
It's water meets to sea and ocean,
We should also mix  with each other's culture like river does,
Mix with culture and share new ethics and love,
So that you can grow and spread in every direction like river does,
Spread love and humanity with mixing culture and traditions.
Do not pollute water with poisonous chemicals,
Do not pollute world with  criminal deeds & treacherous minds,
Make Water clean as transparent mirror shows,
Make your inner person Clean &  as beautiful as transparent mirror.

we think we understand gravity
we think it is weak
we assume some apples will fall

in fields of much less colour
the sound is flatter
the leaves are damper

gravity hangs too heavy on some
heavier than we think on some
or admit on some

it is natural to reduce it
we all know a guy who says
some apples just fall ka-plunk

and that's gravity   get over it!
knowing we can't actually
get over it

not really!
I know a guy who thinks
gravity works in multiple dimensions

and we can only account
for part of its strength
so the rest remains felt but unseen

That would explain the dimmer light
the clenched off drowning of sound;
that would explain this half-lit world!

the blurred nerves  in the going of motion…
I have adjusted accordingly.
I have a skeleton crew

to keep things ticking over
so I can take the weight
of all those other places.

German rye bread & Chinese green tea
each turn of the knife
each touch of the kettle
& you send signs to the neighbors
the heavens above
a tapestry of eyes
salt water & tears
& your knees shaking
in little earthquakes
Fly the flag higher
Britishness is an art
in Earl Grey & crumpets
& mad hatter days
boasting of kisses
in mad houses
kisses you've never had
or else someone you shagged
but once
senseless & beaming
letters to Keats
& always, always
maps of the Empire
some builder nostalgic
for old might & power
& ships on the Thames
like in the old paintings.

Haunted by you, Keats
lost in my Autumn days' revel
I reach for '' dull'' rhymes
to chain my English with their wiles
wondering if you'd bow down
before the poets of performance & free verse
or else lament the passing of the days of old
the Seasons are still changing,
true weather is ever unforetold
few write of Greek myth now
& Chatterton is all but forgot
in this new England
where the spoken word is more favored
than the blessed page
& ever stranger tastes invade
& seize the poet's lyre
I, being but a traveller unto
this land can but aspire
to touch it with my verse
before you, Keats, I bow down
to your ' Eve of St Agnes', sonnets
to your ' Endymion'
I read you & am seized by song
Oh bright star of poets,
listen - may you ever reign!

I seek your legalized ghost -
fold autumn's changing leaves
into my meagre words
& acorns & chestnuts
the way the starlight
dreams of the winter cold
the mill wheel of ***** Mills
the cafes with their chatter
all the things you can no longer see
& the kitchen radio is blasting ' Queen'
your favorite band with their hit
' Will somebody find me somebody to..'
I switch off at the last word
suddenly, just the way you switched off your life

Are you a Rainbow Child?
Bright colors imprinted
from birth upon your eyelids?
Believing we are not to be judged
nor chained by the accident
of where we came out
of our mothers' wombs,
what language our parents spoke
but by the rail tracks
that took us to new worlds
the languages our hearts learnt
believing that the journey, not the origin
nor even the destination
is what matters
do you believe
in the Glory found in
watching the starlight
of some foreign sky
& to proclaim this sky
& starlight as your own
believing in the music
of your Soul
are you a Rainbow Child
or are you a grey day
a turtle
in a shell
clinging to one people
& one place
able only to crawl
& hide inside it
upon contact
with the world
tell me,
because
I really want to know