if i was a pearl i’d feel itchy scratchy stuck inside an oyster shell if i was a tree i’d  be a big fat redwood fantasizing about Julia Butterfly Hill living and peeing around me if i was a dog i’d be a Catahoula hound if i was Italian i’d be Sicilian if i was pasta i’d be spaghetti if i was Icelandic i’d be Bjork if i was a rock star i’d be Elvis Presley Bob Dylan Jimi Hendrix Jim Morrison John Lennon Bruce Spingsteen Maynard James Keenan if i was i writer i’d be Herman Melville Mark Twain James Joyce William Faulkner Thomas Bernhard Yukio Mishima Naguib Mahfouz Phillip K. **** Gabriel Garcia Marquez Annie Proulx Lydia Davis if i was a poet i’d be Walt Whitman Sylvia Plath Ted Hughes Gwendolyn Brooks Pablo Neruda  Heather McHugh Carl Sandburg Robert Frost Arthur Rimbaud Dante Alighieri Homer if i was a painter i’d be Leonardo Da Vinci Michelangelo da Caravaggio Johan Vermeer Rembrandt van Rijn Paul Cezanne Marcel Duchamp Jackson ******* Mark Rothko Ad Reinhardt Anselm Kiefer Susan Rothenberg if i was a photographer i’d be Man Ray Ansel Adams Edward Weston Diane Arbus Robert Mapplethorpe Sally Mann Helmut Newton Richard Avedon Annie Leibovitz if i was a philosopher i’d be Socrates Plato Aristotle Jean Jacques Rousseau Sören Kierkegaard Immanuel Kant Karl Marx Georg Hegel Friedrich Nietzsche Henry David Thoreau Ralph Waldo Emerson  Jean-Paul Sartre Jean Baudrillard Michel Foucault if i was a singer i’d be Woody Guthrie Otis Redding Grace Slick Bob Marley Joni Mitchell Marvin Gaye Johnny Cash Patsy Cline June Carter Patti Smith Chrissie Hinde Nick Cave P J Harvey Beyonce if i wa a band i’d be Velvet Underground Ramones *** Pistols Clash Cure Smiths Joy Division Uncle Tupelo Pixies Nirvana Nine Inch Nails Madrugada Sigur Ros White Stripes Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra Justice of the Unicorns if i was a boot i’d be Chippewa Frye Ariat Red Wing Tony Lama Wellington if i was a shoe i’d be Christian Louboutin Jimmy Choo Kedds Chaco Chuck Taylor p f flyer if i was a dress i’d be Channel Dolce & Gabbanna Giorgio Armani Marc Jacobs Comme des Garçons if i was a cowboy shirt i’d be H bar C Rockmount Temp Tex Karman Wrangler Levis Strauss Lee if i was a hat i’d be a Stetson Borsalino Stephen Jones if i was a fruit i’d be a mango apple banana blackberry if i was an scent i’d smell like fresh perspiration jasmine sandalwood ylang ylang the ocean if i was a doctor i’d be a gynecologist neurosurgeon if i was a flower i’d be a hibiscus rose orchard if i was a stone i’d be a sparkling ruby diamond opal if i was a knife i’d be a k-bar switch-blade machete if i was a gun i’d be a Remington Winchester Beretta Glock AK-47 if i was a car i’d be a Lamborghini Ferrari BMW Saab Volkswagen GTO Ford Mustang Dodge Challenger if i was a  TV show i’d be Law and Order if i was actor i’d be Charlie Chaplin Humphrey Bogart Steve McQueen Robert De Niro Ed Norton Shawn Penn if i was an actress i’d be Marlene Dietrich Ingrid Bergman Natalie Wood Audrey Hepburn Marilyn Monroe Helen Mirren  Meryil Streep Brigette Fonda Robin Wright Julianne Moore Angie Harmon if i was a female comedian i’d be Gilda Radner Lily Tomlin Nora Dunn Joan Cusack Sarah Silverman Tina Fey if i was a  football player i’d be Sid Luckman George Blanda Walter Payton **** Butkus Mike Singletary Joe Montana Jerry Rice Payton Manning LaDanian Tomlinson  Drew Breeze if i was a celebrity i’d be Charlotte Gainsbourg if i was a rapper i’d be Tupac Shakur if i was a movie director i’d be Sam Peckinpah Robert Altman Stanley Kubrick Roman Polanski Werner Herzog Rainer Fassbinder Louis Bunuel Alfred Hitchcock Jean-Luc Godard François Truffaut if i was a bird i’d be a eagle hawk sparrow bluebird if i was a fish i’d be a dolphin shark narwhal Charlie the tuna if i was breakfast i’d be a French toast pancake folded in half with 2 strips of bacon in between if i was a cold cereal i’d be snap crackle popping rice crispies shredded wheat cheerios oatmeal if i was tea i’d be Japanese green matcha Irish breakfast Tulsi Thai holy basil Lapsang souchong Luzianne Lipton if i was a soap i’d be French hand milled ayurvedic Avon Ivory Dove Pears Aveda  if i was a man i’d be a football basketball baseball tennis swimmer athlete if i was a woman i’d be a track star runner writer painter gardener doctor nurse yoga mom i'm just scratching the surface and the beat goes on lahdy dah dah

They print their lives on a price tag,
Those big fat numbers,
All they do is brag.
My daughter’s a neurosurgeon,
Graduated from Johns Hopkins,
Saving lives by the hundreds.
My son a number-crunching accountant,
A career that keeps his wallet thick,
And his pockets filled.

They wonder what I do,
I tell them I work with words.
They gasp,
Eyes widen.

I tell them that,
I can count the spaces between adjacent letters in a word,
String words together to build a sentence,
Layer each sentence above another like bricks,
Place a single powerful mark of punctuation in between,
The glue that holds the bricks intact and forms a wall.
A wall of stanzas,
Connected by commas and semicolons.
A wall of paragraphs,
Big enough to block numbers out.

Because words fill souls while numbers fill pockets.
Words are immeasurable.

Infinite.

Magnificence blasted

I came to this with a title and then formed an Idea then got out the heavy hitter books all founding fathers thought it would be
A good touch to reconnect with our country and it history at this time of the year well it didn’t proceed that way I did find the very
Word that serves as the title in G. Campbell Morgan’s book an exposition of the Bible don’t get excited I will just use that to set the
tone and it will give you a head start on what I want to deal with the place where life is at odds with our peace and well being He starts
the first chapter of Job now he is one that can at least give us a great example it’s all about winning getting the results we need instead
of the pain of failure (In magnificence of argument and beauty of style this book is one of the grandest in the divine library the story
of Job is presented in dramatic form) I want this to serve two purposes give understanding to the point we all can use these stories
to make us victors and in a very small way have a readable escape from drudgery or outright problems to that end I will start at this
Point I already wrote about the Dutch businessman who got fed up chucked it all started a journey to circle the globe by human
Power alone so to that end he made a boat that by pedaling and that alone would be what would propel him through great waters and
Grand adventures but for this one were going to stay on land I did meet a eastern traveler years ago from New York he was on this side
Of Shelbyville his ultimate goal was the west coast I think he had been at it a little over a month and he was on horseback we talked
but way to briefly to be able to use it here so go to one I know a little more about Jack Kerouac he was in that idea and wrote the
Book on the road first problem the guy had very bad language steeped in the sixties drug culture an iconic figure of the beat
Generation but he was human as we are and when you get down to the soul you catch the part I want to use this is going to play
Like an old family recipe that is hardly readable and the family is the human family but Jack was a writer a full blown saga that had to
Be read had to be listened to a solitary seeker a poor outward drifter who was deeply lonely man a sad melancholy drifter one writer has
Said “and if you read the book closely you see that sense of loss and sorrow swelling on each page” another penned why Kerouac
Matters he matters because he is one of us he ran the course with large gains and ultimately ended with his magnificence blasted.
Taking the cue from Jack I will take you on the road to another life of magnificence Steven Beckerman he was a neurosurgeon I met
And worked for well his wife Sandy she was such a tragic figure she was so fragile high strung would be a good description if you didn’t
Know better you would think she saw the future the first blow to this couple was there pricey home was gutted by fire everything was
Replaceable but the two Doberman guard dogs and another dog that was their family they were childless but before this fire Steven
Was not a snob but he was only a few degrees higher than Sandy on the fragile scale he had these beautiful hands he seemed to
Always be guarding them he would walk in the back of the house down by the fence always faraway I’m sure he was thinking of
The patient and the operation that waited on him at the hospital he had a vulnerability he entered other peoples troubled places and
Gave them back their lives but his own he couldn’t seem to walk divided it was all their concerns and needs.Their dream was to leave
The Bay area where neither was happy and go to the southwest New Mexico where people were laid back the pace was slower
Then the fire happened they weathered that resumed life then Steven was near home a car accident this wonderful gifted surgeon
Was left a paraplegic he went to the bedroom placed the gun between his legs then with those fingers who helped so many others
Pulled the trigger on the shotgun his magnificence was ended he couldn’t overcome the reality and fact of his situation he could have
Became a teacher so many things could have been we need to take from this a lesson of guarding our mind and heart we don’t know
What the future holds if only Steven would have measured his worth kept and made a powerful ally as Job had, his magnificence
Would still be shinning today to finish up the last piece talked about Yvette being shot with Zack in the desert her injuries included
Right side nerve damage a metal plate in her head that prevents her from getting private health care we heard what her dad said about
The Grisly listen to the wise words of her mother her mother said you have to mourn the person you were before up to the time of the
shooting that person is gone you need to turn and start a new life she did that as much as possible started out to do sports casting found
It totally unsatisfactory changed to law and now is a lawyer and victims advocate she said she never tells her story to her clients but
She has a compassion for them she found her way through giving and serving others to keep her magnificence stellar.

i'm a volture with a scalpel and cropped brown hair, circling over the injured in the field as if i'll find something that will make me feel important enough to push through the failures of the past. Dark blue scrubs cling to my tired, worn out body like a second skin; at least that's what it feels like. it's my body and my being, but it's not enough for you to want me after this final mistake.

you're a beautifulmess ; just as cliche as everyone assumes you are. your first skin is your only one and you can't seem to understand my need for the feel of flesh giving way beneath the sharpest weapon in my artillery. it's completely different for you, a feeling like lightning coursing through your veins in the place of blood. a transfusion of mystery and obligation that you have to undertake.

he is nothing you ever thought you might want but everything you can see next to you, handing you the forceps as you do your job, working to save lives. but he's not someone you can see next to you in bed, strong arms wrapped tight around you as if he's afraid you might try to escape while he's distracted by everything you pretend to be but is really only your new transplanted face; the surgery went well by the way, even though the procedure was basically brand new. i just thought you should know.

she has dark blue almostblack bruises lining her neck like a macabre collar, left there from this mornings goings on with her g.i joe, fresh back from iraq like he has nothing wrong with him. she hugs him and it disgusts you but you say nothing. she's a grown woman and you're her person, but she doesn't want you right now. she's flying solo for the first time and she panics and lets go the strangers secret. then she cuts into his skin and sighs in relief. she's all better now.

i'm falling apart at the seams, my sutures unraveling before your surgeons eyes and you cannot help because i'm angry and drunk and the body bleeds more with alcohol in its system. you can't operate without consent and i won't sign the form and i throw your promise into the trees like it means absolutely nothing to me.

the stranger is alone and fragile and the voltures are circling again but they won't find anything that can save them this time. she's without a cause and i'm a neurosurgeon with alcoholicbreath and shakinghands and cropped brown hair. the scalpel in my hand is like a lifeline; you refuse to give me another promise because it might be my easy way out of saving the stranger. you couldn't risk it any more than i could.

the "chief" wouldn't let you choose your path and so you ended your day in an elevator lined with x-rays and brain scans; patients saved because you wouldn't let me quit. it's my love letter to you, no matter how unconventional it may seem. it's your second skin and i'm your promise; cut me open now and let it begin. "scalpel please?"

The Historian

Rain falls steadily, wind torments the trees, thunder cracks the sky and lightening dancing paints the earth as I pull up and park outside of my boss’s home.
Tonight, is not a good night to be caught outside on a roam.
A positive note, my boss’s house has a front door made out of chrome.
His front yard is littered with creepy gnomes.

My wife gives me a look wondering why we are here and questioning my sanity.
I reassure her my boss is a good man and has a heart filled with love by Christianity.
She tells me believing in a mystical being is a form of insanity.
I tell her to stop with the blasphemy,
my boss is a good man whom has never uttered a single profanity.
My boss is better than both of us single handily.
Three months ago, he hired me into his company after a long period of unemployment and has ever since treated me like family.
He has exceeded all of my former bosses combined actually.
My wife has no need to worry, she needs to get over the delusional fantasy
she’s playing over and over again in her head callously.

I walk with my wife hand in hand up to the front door and knock.
My wife frowns at me and tells me we don’t belong on this block.
My boss invited us for dinner, we won’t be turning that down,
besides, he’s the only person I can truly call a friend in this town.
He picked me up from the ashes and filled my life with hope.
A few more days of struggle and hardship and I’m afraid you would have found me hanging from a rope.
This man saved my life in my most dire time of need.
We owe him more than we can ever pay, even if my wife may not agree.

My boss answers the door with a friendly hello and a warm smile.
I look at my wife and smile to show her she has no reason to be hostile.
***** needs to loosen up and enjoy the night,
but she’s put off by the fact that we are people of color and my boss is white.
Racist ******* she needs to get over because there is no place for it here,
or I will pierce her heart and soul with a slanders venom laced spear.

We walk inside where I immediately notice a large collection of historical artifacts.
Based on the outside, I was expecting an interior with a bit more pomp and circumstance.
Old flags and pictures line the interior.
Still, my home feels rather inferior.

“Thank you for coming tonight Antonio.
Dinner will be ready shortly.
If you don’t mind, allow me to show you a couple rooms of my beautiful home.
Outside of work, things work a little differently deep down in my dome.
I’m an history fanatic and have a large collection of historical artifacts.
My collection is so massive I often feel like I’ve gone slightly manic.
Here, follow me and I’ll give you a brief tour of a couple rooms.
I promise these rooms are fun to be in and are nothing like a tomb.”

We walk into a room where I discover it contains a large collection of American Revolutionary War artifacts.
They are many pictures hanging on the wall, each with a plague underneath it explaining some facts.
George Washington,
Thomas Jefferson,
Benjamin Franklin,
John Adams,
Thomas Hutchinson
Joseph Brant,
along with Thomas Paine and his common sense.
There are old fire arms, books, clothing and flags.
I’m sure all of these items costed a pretty little price tag.

I exit the room and walk into the next room to discover…
A **** themed room and dedication to the holocaust.
My wife walks in behind me, I can feel her heart skip a few beats.
She stares at me and gives me a glare that’s not so nice.
There is a large picture of Adolf ****** hanging on the wall.
I swallow my spit, take a deep breath as my nerves act up and fear begins to crawl
up my spinal cord.
There are many more rooms left in this house, but after this room I no longer feel a need to explore.
Multiple **** flags pollute the room.
This room is a lot to take in and consume.
My boss (Nathan Kline) has written speeches of Adolf ****** framed and hung on the wall.
I’m not sure how anyone would react to this room except with appall.

“Antonio, I see you found my **** artifact room.
The look on your face is concerning to me and I admit that this room can be a lot to consume,
but it’s not to be taken in a negative way.
I’m a history nut, both good history and the bad, what else can I say?
What the ****’s and ****** did were terrible and beyond words and this room is not to honor them.
This room is to preserve this part of our history, as bad as it is, so we learn from it and don’t make the same mistake ever again, that’s the place of my heart this room is coming from.
Listen, you guys must be starving, what do you say we go eat some delicious food and talk about some brighter topics?
Maybe you can tell me about some of your interests and hobbies and teach me about a topic in which I’m a novice.”
My wife looks at me, a fire burning in her eyes.
Once we leave here, she’s either going to rip me apart or break down and cry.
She forces a smile, grabs my arm and tells me it’s time to join our host for dinner.
She knows how to hide displeasure and fake kindness, she’s no beginner.

We follow Nathan to the dining room to discover an older gentleman already seated at the table.
He radiates a warm smile in our direction, he seems rather graceful.

“Antonio, Katrina, it’s my pleasure to introduce you to world renowned neurosurgeon, Dr. James Allen Blake.
I invited him here tonight to enjoy this wonderful feast we are about to share that’s center pieced by a one of a kind steak.
Dr. Blake and I have been friends for many years.
He knows all of my darkest secrets, all of my loves and fears.”

“Antonio, Katrina, it’s my pleasure the meet the two of you.
I am a neurosurgeon, that part is true,
but what Nathan has neglected to tell you is…I’m retired!
Just recently actually and now I’m trying to find new activities to do to fill all of my new found free time that I’ve acquired rather undesired.
This dinner is a celebration of my long career and also a celebration of making new friends,
so, cheers to the two of you and thank you for joining us here tonight.”
We shake Dr. Burke’s hand then take a seat at the table ready to eat.
I’m glad to hear we are having steak, it’s my favorite meat.
A gentleman of color walks in from out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of the finest wine.
His eyes are cold, he doesn’t smile, I wonder if he’s mentally fine.
He pours the four of us a glass of wine then departs without saying a word.
Do I bring up his demeanor with Nathan or do I defer?
**** it, I’ll ask.
I want to know why his face looks like he just got done surviving doomsday.

“Not the friendliest person is he,” I mention nodding in the direction of the man from the kitchen.

“That’s just how Robert is, it takes him awhile to warm up to new people.
Once he opens up you will realize his heart is full of love and not evil.
Besides, he is the best cook I have ever met.
I made his acquaintance during a time when he was working 60 hours a week and still struggling to pay rent.
I went out eat at this run-down restaurant over on 9th and hilltop and the food was fantastic.
Honestly, I was expecting it to taste like plastic.
I was so impressed that I asked the waitress if I could talk with the cook.
He came out, I told him how great his food was.  He thanked me then told me that no matter how hard he worked there, every day he was still broke.
I made him an offer to come cook dinner for me five nights a week and he accepted and walked out the restaurant right then and there with me.
When he walked out of that place, it was like a giant weight was lifted off of him and suddenly he was free.
He started cooking for me the very next day and has been here ever since.
He may have been taken for granted at that restaurant, but here he’s treated like a prince.
Sure, he’s a bit rough around the edges but he’s a good man.
Taking care of him like he takes care of me is my plan.
Now that we have wine, how about a toast.
Here is to my new friends Antonio and Katrina, to you Dr. Burke and to our wonderful cook…cheers!”

Katrina and I take a big sip of the wine then set the glass down.
The wine is good enough to serve to the royal crown.
Nathan and James sit their glasses down without taking a drink.
That’s strange…I begin to think.
I go to ask why they didn’t take a drink but begin to feel light headed.
Katrina looks at me frightful, eyes cold blooded.
She tells me she doesn’t feel well, stands up to go to the bathroom but collapses and falls hard to the floor.
I go to get up to help her but I’m suddenly brought down to all fours.
I crawl over to her as Nathan appears over us.
He tells us we have something to discuss.

“Antonio, Katrina, please look each other in the eyes.
Take a moment because this is your only chance to say goodbye.
You are about to pass out and when you awake…
well you will no longer be you.
Dr. Burke is going to rewire your brains to make you perfectly obedient slaves for me.
The life you know it is over, you will no longer be free.
You two won’t even recognize each other after this, you will be complete strangers who’s only objective is to serve me without question.
I’m sorry if you feel like this is oppression.
It was actually Dr. Burke’s suggestion
to rewire *******’ brains to make them slaves again.
I must admit, with Robert, it turned out to be a great plan.
With you two, I’m sure it will work just as well.
Well enjoy the last few seconds you have left to dwell.”

I look my wife in the eye and can see the terror that has overcome her.
Never in my wildest imagination did I think something like this would occur.
Nathan treated me like family, but it was all for show.
He will ultimately pay the price for his actions here tonight after he dies and Satan ***** him in the *** while playing a banjo!
I reach out my arm and hold my wife’s hand one final time
as the world around fades to black.

“James, when you are done and have them ready for me, meet me in the master bedroom with them.”
----------------------------------------------------------­---------------------------------------

I enter the master bedroom the admire the work James has done for me.

“Pretty impressive, don’t you agree?”

Antonio and Katrina appear emotionless and cold.
They are firmly under my control.
I say hello to greet the pair.
They respond with a hello master then bow down and kiss my shoe.

“I’m very happy to have the two of you here.”

“We are here to serve you and satisfy you in every way possible master.”

“Antonio, I would like you to begin cleaning all of the toilets in the house using a toothbrush and cleaner.”
He promptly agrees and departs to do just that, “thank you Antonio I love your demeanor.
Katrina, you sure are you cute little thing.
What would you do to please your king?”

“Anything you wish sir; your happiness is all I care about.”

“That is the correct answer Katrina, now how about you get a little bit more comfortable and take your clothes off.”

Katrina immediately stirps down to nothing and stands **** in front of me.
This is the way I always want her to be…
Naked and pleasing me in my bed.
I hope she gives great head.
Don’t patronage me for this.
Washington, Jefferson and all of our forefathers had slaves and procreated with the females.
They had many children with them.
Katrina will provide me with many of my own.
She is a fine little specimen.
Nice tight body, firm ***, perky ****, she’s going to be a fun ride.

“Get in bed Katrina and start ******* yourself I’ll be right there to make love to you.
Thank you for everything you have done here James, I can’t ever express my gratitude in the appropriate way.”

“Well when the time comes for you to return the favor I will call on you.
As for now, I will leave you be with your new toy so get busy kid!”

I am alright
is what I say even when I have flashbacks everyday of the intimidating looking paramedic carrying me into the ambulance car as if I’m shattered porcelain.

We’re alright
is what my mom says even when she leaves the house she constantly calls and when we aren’t in the same room she repeats “Kelly? Just making sure you’re alright”.

I am alright
is what I say even when I have to look away when the clock strikes 9:27 am because that’s when everything suddenly went black and then spotted white.

We’re alright
is what my mom says, a single parent paying MRI scans, emergency room bills, antiseizure medication, the neurologist, the neurosurgeon, the epileptic neurosurgeon, without a cent from my father, and her worry lines are piercingly more clear to me.

Does anyone really wanna hear the truth?
I rub my fingers across my head imagining ripping out the millions of neurons lighting paths across my brain. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

I’ve kept my mouth shut because it’s polite but I want to tell everyone who’s pretending to be my friend because they feel sorry for me to ******* because my health is none of their business.

It all catches up to me when I sit in the hallway at Cincinnati Children’s and I watch kids with tubes down their noses and needles in their arms and think to myself:
I can’t be one of them, can I?
This can’t be real, can it?
But I guess I’m alright.

The meds make me feel foggy, like I’m somewhere between awake and asleep.
Where my mind feels like it fell through a trapdoor and into a vacuum.

If it was up to me I wouldn’t leave the house. The only places I feel safe are in the nurses office or in between the 4 walls of a hospital with my mom holding my hand.
That’s what seizures do. Turn an 18 year old girl into a 5 year old, wanting to run in a closet and slam the door so nobody has to see it happen again.

No going down stairs alone, no locking the door when showering, no getting drunk at parties, no driving, no living your life.

So you wonder if I’m alright? If alright means seeing my mom cry for the first time in years, if alright means sleeping 3 hours a night, if alright means having to rely on others because I can’t do anything by myself..
Maybe I’m tired of lying.
Maybe I’m not alright.

xvii.

my dear neurosurgeon
failed to find my eyes,
he only looked
at my mouth, my
left jaw,
whine a little,
and gave me analgesic - i f

orgot what's the na
me - that replaced my f
ace with the mo
on. it's moon face. still

present until this very moment
just because my body wants to
remember. i
maintain my diet like there's
no tomorrow but actually there is &
boy did it
grace my stomach with a

crying gift, an angel's tears,
an angel lives near the volcano
everything turns sour.

i wasn't hurting at that time.

now i am. turning not only
my face to the moon, my whole body
is the moon, even my
fingers are the moon
but they are the crater part so
when i touch a boy he

disappears - when i
touch a girl i disappear.
i've never wanted to be a boy,

only some nights
i am so fragile i become masculine.
it's not that i've never felt
feminine, i do, every time

i am catcalled i do, every
time my father kisses me like a jewel
i do, every time my brother
treats me like a marionette
i do, every time i'm seen as angry i swear i do.

my mother is angry all the time but
that doesn't do anything about
her womanhood - her husband
still sees her as a good, and yes, the eyes
of a man
are like the sun, nothing at all
like mine.
my eyes are the only part of me
that is not the moon, that is pluto.

i've been to so many doctors
i am very sure it's not
the minds nor the medicines.

it's funny
that

my dear neurosurgeon
didn't even graze my skin -
the only time a knife
tore my epidermis open

it was a slim box cutter.

i've been to so many doctors,
i am very sure.

….concerning my adventures in Hell, as others have spoken of theirs in Heaven, and of the extrapolations thereof…



1
All right, you guys
I mean even neurosurgeons
are telling us now how real is Heaven
They’ve been there and back
so I guess you’d believe me
(just me an irreverent poet)
if I told you there’s Hell
for I’ve been there and catapulted back:
I mean trust me, guys

2
So in my nights
I was there in Hell
and the Red Master said:
“You’ve got a choice, buddy
to determine your eternity”
Well I knew straight away I was in Big ****
Should have read my Big Book
when I was on Planet Earth

3
Red Master showed me a room
where the inmates were
up to their necks in ****
and I said:  *“No, I’ll give this the miss”

And so Red Master showed me
the next room where the inmates
were in **** to their noses
and I said, “Pass…let’s move on to the last ”

And sure enough
the third room was comfy –
the inmates were up to their knees in ****
and each enjoying a cup of coffee
And I told the Red Master I could live with this
but then the Red Master screamed at the inmates there:
“ All Right, you pigs! Break Time over!
Back on your heads in your ****!”

4
And it was then I was shot back to Earth
and so whether Heaven or Hell
Neurosurgeon or Poet
you can be certain now
Heaven and Hell exist –
One for the Wise, one for the Fool
It’s your call, buddy -
Big Book or Big ****?

You're never home
Sometimes I like it
I really do like it
You don't feel like my dad
You feel like a visiter
That thinks he has authority
The fact that I'm more scared of
My neurosurgeon than you
What kind of father are you?
You make me hurt
More than is needed
By you being gone
You never talking to me
I've gotten to the point that
I don't even like you
You are ruining my life

@JEANCARLO_OCHOSI   Poetical medical references my chest caves every time you step in for a kiss because your breath stinks and I love the taste switch pace lips laced with venom my style gets in her, feel my tongue with fur as she purrs. My words are whirl winds my girlfriend makes me mix my nerves with syrup and stir them, the neurosurgeon to fix your lifestyle when it worsens I'm cursing enemies who can't read and see the allegory it's like I got actual ghost to write for me. Shall I commit to this anthropomorphic story? Constantly transforming to any animal is definitely possible do not doubt me because I will never doubt you.

Lay down in a cold bed,
Pajamas hugging my body,
Wrap the sheets around to try to warm.  
What is my purpose?
Possibly a neurosurgeon,
Possibly a research scientist,
Both?
Who really knows.
Part of me longs to be a devoted wife and mother
Imagine hugging my husband as he arrives home,
A beautiful dinner ready for him,
Working together in a partnership matched
So perfectly, in sync like ballerinas...
Maybe a handsome young son
Or a kind, gentle daughter.
Both?
All?
Who knows.  
Who really knows?