women are like poetry-
they speak profusely profound
in or between their lines,
they can be deep like Hell or
miraculous like Heaven,
and they empower me
greatly to make this love .

my longest poem
titled 'eternity'
has been written
in finding
when to better
understand or to
better surrender
myself to poetry's craft.
and when is it that I would ever find exactly what it is about her that affects me so true ?

the haze
a shower; for the light to glow.
a cascading cloud with
rays graciously
appending white glory.
watch the eyes.
the sun burns godly visage, in manifested mirage, harking reds
and screaming blues.

take a drag from your spirit cigarette
a kiss on the filter, your lips of scarlet
the moonlit night, a chilled wind of air
a loving sight, your beautiful hair
amongst the felled leaves
with their purpose to fall,
slowly dancing upon
the brief hint of winter's squall

I dream of you by my side
and your name calls
as I look upon the sky
I feel you here yet you whisper
through silence
I wish you were here
to speak up to their violence
and although I turn cheek
to make it 'no matter'
visions of my creator
are hard to discern through
the chatter

if i were more selfish
id tell you exactly what you want to hear.

the internet is a silent cry for true connection.

is it scary to see a mad man's scribblings make some sense?

i realized i'm the best friend i've ever had.
then again, i'd say we are the culmination of all those we have loved.

morning dew
green torches illuminate
speckled starlight
mystic mist amidst morning
sugary kiss affixed to be licked
sips of heaven's spit turn me to bliss

i blow a cool kiss
to the boiling ***
(lest it bubble over)

joyously cooking
mixin' and masterin'
stirrin' and spinnin'
sealin' and servin'
meals wrapped up all
tight

mmm.. tell me the secret
in how it tastes just like
love every time ?

faith bends bullets
in hailstorms of fury.

unscathed, if you believe all are your ally,
even when on the business end of the barrel,
you will be mattered no harm through
love's armor.

the king of hearts
is a mighty card to hold.

Is it possible to take it all back ?
To be without beginning ?
To bloom without a seed ?

We see them,
passerby with
courteous smiles.
They're trying to be nice,
to make a friend,
be an ally.
Is there any more to kindness ?

I wrote you a book but it burnt
from my memory,
you may have kept the manuscript
but I suggest you shred it,
let it go.

This feeling feels foreign
yet it's like a new nostalgia.
I'm in love with someone I don't want around,
someone I can't stand to see
but to see them would be relief.
Because every day
was joy with her,
and she destroyed what
I knew to be happiness,
like I didn't know what it
was to begin with:
the warmth of a sun ray
in a cold dark room,
a kind stranger
into the end of
a summer day.

a vocaloid heart
echoing at me
reflection of your trouble.

scratchy CDs
s-s-stammering and repeating
selective sounds
that only kisses their own itch.

on memory lane,
just walking in an
opposite direction.

the waterways
and slim heat
are a confession,
a resolution to my
mind,

quiet dancers
for my mind's
ears,
sub silent soliloquies
saunter on in
forevermore.

was it basking
in some hot wax
or was it soothing on a
sordid stone
that we never acted?
did we miss eachother
by a minute ?
took times out of our day
to disappear disappointed,
or did we discover it just in time ?

dialectical analytic
'******-conceptualization'.
veering vectors veining
through tangled truths
only to find- still- something
of nothing new.

I'd say you believe you are innocent
but no one stays that way forever.

I'd say you've changed for the worse
but you've only shown me the monster.

I'd say I have been in a bad spot
but you would have heard wrong.

I'd say you treated me like some horrid business
but you believed you knew me enough to treat me well.

I'd say your words actually meant
something
but you gave that up awhile ago.

I'd say that there's not that feeling I knew deep in the past
but I'd be lying.

I'd say all these things
but you'd have to
leave all your prior convictions
behind;
everything you've grown
to know.

I couldnt ask you to do that for me,
I couldn't ask that of you.

I couldn't ask that of you,
but maybe you will ask that of yourself.

he molded the sculptures
with no one but the models in mind.
    they were angelic.
       and he took a
            picture.
   the marble was unchanging-
     regal. he thought that if they ever
needed to remember who they were
      through whoever they are
    they could look up to their own past's excellent
      persona pillars.

and there they still stand
  in any other market squares or musuems,
      leading us on one of some
  principle,
    until they are felled by
         those that are going
             through more of similiar stories.

I still fail to
not do things for others over
myself.
Dedicating words to
special people.
I'm trying to love myself solely for once,
but I find the writers of
my life
are the one's
my mind's love
goes to, but I hold the pen.

Is that not loving myself?
When an unrequited hate for thy is met with a fiery excellence,
who protects thou in that exchange?
the cold embrace of night
that meets like
sheer edge on tender vital muscle?
the venomous tongue siphoning, spitting, to erode on sacred loyalty?
the nervous white rabbit in need of the slightest comforting space?
the abused puppy barking off advancements?
the cat hissing away touch?

heaven's coushined cloud?
embraced coat of arms?
love and all its subsidaries?

you retributive beast,
my dignity isn't envy.

if you are unsure about your identity,
seek it.
in every gracious way.
your story
relies on your
intuition;
of starry nights,
of love everlasting
securely protected
by the will of some
higher shimmer.
pray that the ocean reflect that
nightly heart you call yours,
sailing into the undying determination
of both the oceans and sky's
vast ubiquitous nature as they
only seek to boast your journey.
for when the storms may come,
that you
only add to the sea
with your tears.
therefore to the still
nothingness that permeates
a dark sky.
so that each drop will
constellate piercing light
in the veil of space.
and there to,
will be
your memory of conquering
a nightmare to a dream.

are you sure those starry nights
are as dark as you remember?

a blueberry sunrise
she's held up in his arms
mulitcolored daylight

the father kisses his daughter's cheek,
"promise you'll never leave me,
not even til the end of days."

"my love,
when I've
gone to Heaven,
these stars-
I shall sparkle
them for you."

you were only once,
now you're never again.

the licks you inflict
from the gun pointed in contradict
suddenly stick to, and its sick too,
that the violence of silence in sundered solace of which the trigger was shot to, and now in this constant, its the bullet that shocks, its the anger that he kills. helplessly instilled.

she feels
like cool rain landing on my skin
or harsh kisses sent through the wind

sure I don't know everything
but I'll die before I say
"I've stopped searching".
In the face of many
obstacles
the poetry will come
sevenfold,
I just need to learn
to slow down or
whatever it is
I may still find
to learn.

am I cool or whatever ?
           sweet or something ?
  annoying or not ?
prone to mockery ?
lovely or lonely ?
              clowning or frowning ?
    goodly or badly ?
                     what am I ?
a pink toast bubblegum ?
tough-toothed sleuth under-summed ?

am I smart ?
                                                   am I wise?
am I hurt ?
                                                    am I nice?
am I right ?
                                              am I alright ?
am I dirt ?
                                               or despised ?
am I him ?
                                                    am I her ?
am I sane ?
                                                 or besides ?
am I wrong ?
                                            I wish I knew !
I wish I knew !
            I wish I could know the known !
am I the walk ?
                                             am I the run ?
should I talk the talk ?
                         should I look at the sun ?
would it be that much more fun ?
                                       should I give up ?
should I give in ?
                                          should I let go ?
should I hold tight ?
                                    forfeit to the light ?
or sleep in the dark ?
                                    am I the monster ?
am I the mayhem ?
                                           am I the hero ?
am I the savior ?
                                        am I the friend ?
am I the enemy ?
                                           am I the rival ?
is this tribal ?
                                                is this libel ?
or liberty ?
                                           am I freedom ?
or captivity ?
                               am I love or nothing ?
hate or everything ?
                  is this too long for pleasure ?
too short for knowledge ?
                                           am I the view ?
am I the new ?
                                              am I the old ?
is this gold ?
                                              am I boring ?
too questioning ?
                                  too understanding ?
have you stopped reading ?
                           have I stopped writing ?

blehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

touch my finger to the poetry of your dance enriched
in my flowery sentence of hips.
in motion with the sound we can both sing;
slowly, a dancer is loved- and a dancer I'd hope we all will be.

is there something wrong about finding beauty in a flower even if it's fake ?
it surely wasn't placed there for me in your abandonded car.
and there are some budding white ones nearby.
I don't even know, I can hardly keep track of anything nowadays.
I'm a fish-head or some pontificating ape or just some bozo you might hate, love, or ignore, or even might be scared of.
J can't even tell, no not one bit.
Maybe my face is just one faded memory waiting to be rediscovered;
maybe I've lost you so many days that I haven't even kept any count.

You're a better me
       than I could hope to be
So I'll learn from lesser
       reads that in which I see
Reaching for what is we,
       for there we fly like free

do you ever get anxiety putting your whole self out there?

I wonder if you'd love the small me -
those little moments in my fixed self,
how I spend my time alone,
my little lonesome moments,
and what makes a man or woman.

Is it scary of me or are we scared
of what we hear of what
we can be ?
Little notions guide me
in my soul represented;
I hear it in the corners of my mind,
what has been said of what charms
and leads me. I wish I
could say I'm not a part of some of
what
they say of me, but we are
everything that has been made
and unmade of us: and this may come as a surprise, but it for sure is
good.

We are complex like that.
Every story, every line, and
through time.
We could write it together,
we could write it apart,
we could even write it against;
let emotion guide us
or logic lead us
or neither
or either or
neither and
either between.

Loving one does
not mean you hate
the other.

I care only for this dance,
however we shall dance it.
It need not matter how.
You matter to me.

Early Fall leafs-
like sprinkles on cake.
Summer comes and Summer goes;
a deer cantering over the ridge of an open field.

sweep me off my feet
but don't tackle me to
the ground.

every other's yawn
would ellicit one of my own in return
i blush embarissingly
to share another's 'shame'
my craze, a harbor hoping it's a
                                   helping hand.
and atop a tall white spire the eye
      of some mind i think is mine
    gathers pieces of mindset puzzles.
at times, a
willing cohesion. same beast of mana.
   i hope it heals to share some burden.
    atleast the empathetical air
   tastes sweet to us modern mages

I KNOW WHAT GOOD LOVE IS
SINCE I WAS BORN
I KNEW

I WILL LOSE ALL THERE IS
THAT IS NOT IT
IN PURSUIT OF IT

THIS LOVE WILL NEVER DIE
AND IF YOU ARE NOT WITH IT
UNDERSTAND THAT IT IS STILL WITH
AND WITHIN YOU.

  IGNORANCE
DOES NOT STOP
A KIND HEART
IN SEARCH OF
HIGHER INNER
   STRENGTH.

              IT FEEDS THE
            MIND THROUGH
            SOULFUL BLUES,
            OR DEMANDING
             HEARTY REDS.
                                            WHY ELSE
                                        WOULD WE BE
                                           IMPERFECT
                                           ENOUGH TO
                                      SEEK HEAVENLY
                                        PERFECTIONS?

I don't care if it takes years,
I'll sit and wait
until it feels right.
and at that time,
it'll be glorious.
I'll know God
like she's
my second sister.
I won't even
remember when
I missed her.

i dont know how much longer i can do any of this

but ive been saying that for years