I watch kingdoms rise and kingdoms fall
I've seen you live a thousand lives
And witnessed every awkward kiss in two-door hatchbacks
I've seen every fist thrown in anger
And every expression of love through art
I've seen every tyrant rise to power
And every act of a strong people pull them down in chains
Then they rise to an ultimate greatness
And although the pattern always repeats
I rather enjoy the last one

I let the sweet poison flow
Through my pickled veins
Growing heavy like curtains-
In your grandmother's house
-Heavy, stained, and dusty

I let the sweet poison burn,
Away with all my inhibitions
As it filled me with inky clouds
That ate my decisions
And spit out sunshine headaches
A drunken werewolf for sure

But now I throw my glasses
Against the wall-
I would rather walk on broken bottles
Than ever be at the bottom of one
Again

Shout and hold your banners high!
The drumbeat guides us step by step
Warriors raise voices of song
And the heavens will quake as we march forth
Righteously wrapped in absolution
Absolved of any of our sins of war
Truly we are the glorious few!
And belt now our anthem
To besieged strongholds
We never stopped to question
Never truly learned the words
And our anthem rings across mountains
Echoes through deep valleys
Of a long-forgotten cause

Woe be to the person
So callous in their decisions
Who makes the conscious choice
To reheat fish sticks
In an office microwave

May you forever be condemned

I've contemplated it, wrote it, pondered it
Cried out for it, and attempted it you see

I keep all my ropes now in the garage
There they are of greater use to me

I moved the radio from the bathroom
I now prefer classic melodies

I put my razors behind the mirror
I'm gonna let my hair get shaggy

And all my pills went down the toilet
And there they can't bother me

I used to lock away these horrid thoughts
But to heal I must set them free

I won't lie and say the thought doesn't still come
Like a quiet thief in the night with a loaded gun
There will always be this darkest part of me
But now I try to share my thoughts in forms of poetry

And I hope there is no end to the line for us

Keep your lips closed tight
I know what happens,
When you open your mouth
Spitting bent words,
Crooked like a boomerang
And one day,
Your words will return to you

warning, explicit content**
I F E E L ******A D R I G H T N O W
Y O U D O N T S E E M A F F E C T E
D A T A L L A N D I W A N N A C R Y
A L L T H E T I M E W H Y D O E S I T
G E T                                                   O U T
Y O U              why the ****              A R E
T H E              didn't you stay           W O E
T R Y                  was I not                 I N G
T O H            worth your time          U R T
H U R                                                  T M E
A L W A Y S E N D U P T H I S W A Y W
I T H M E H O L D I N G T H B A G L I K
E A N I D I O T I A L W A Y S E N D U P
B E I N G T H E O N E W H O C A R E D

Who are we?
You are me.
Could we be you?
Or you be me?
Could we be us?
Could I be me?
I am me.
Don't they see?
We have only been us.
You have never been me.
I am.
I AM!
Am I?
Are we?
Spend less time.
Spend less effort.
Be you.
Be different.
We are the same.
Aren't we the same?
Am I?
AM I?
I am.
I?  You?  We!  WE!  US!
I wish you would be me.
Could I ever be you?
I am.

If I were to give,
But a single complimentary
Expression of appreciation,
To describe your rakish charm,
Crooked smile,
Thoughtful presence,
And belief in others,
It would be not of honeyed words,
Streaming forth to nurture
A supple vanity or growing ego,
I would not mention your dextrous
Use of complex lexicons,
Nor your stunning beauty,
As observed in glittering sunlight
Not even a mention
Of your soft kind eyes,
glowing with a gentle warmth

If I would be so inclined,
As to compliment you
As best I could,
I would have to lean upon
The 'G's of modern dictionary
And say you're pretty good

Witness wonder in all forms
It's always happening around you

The man in the uniform smoked a cigarette.
"Oh, how they beat against
the rubber walls.  Stuffed fists
battering with urgency.
It made my heart sad,
as we closed the lid on this one.
My eyes caught the dinosaur boy.
A small stuffy lad, with cracking eyes.
His "mama" was wrapped around him
I suppose
that's what you do
when you are a snake.
Despite the frayed fur, he still had a smile
I could hear her voice in my mind.
[bring him]
A tear welled up as this was the end for them.
I knew it, and they knew it too.
Brains like mashed potatoes,
but still full of common sense.
[bring me]
His furry flesh was used but soft.
I really wish that I could
rewind the clock on this.
I remember that lad on the swingset.
He fell and got *****.
I took him in the bath with me."
[bring me]
The man puffed on his cigarette as he closed the toy box
"I wish I could bring you, Rex.
But I'm a grown-up now.
And grown-ups don't bring toys to work with them."

[bring us]

A faceless crowd,
With madness abound,
To gather strength,
And pull you down

A faceless man,
With wicked hands,
Will hold a candle,
And make last stands

A broken law,
Will hem and haw,
Locked in the cellar,
The last you saw

An ugly thought,
That time forgot,
Will bleed it's ink,
To skin that's sought

A cheery smile,
After life's hard mile,
Would stick much finer,
Than your witch trials

A heart that's gray,
Still beats the same,
But one that's nurtured,
Loves more each day

Your shores lie within my clever reach

But still, my raft floats so far away

All the community in the world

Is never enough to patch a broken ship

Whose edges are lined in broken glass

And weeping of a festered wound

All that's left of me will be

A man who floats on indignant water

Held afloat on broken trees

With an off-key voice and wracking cough

Screaming old-fashioned melodies

Inspired by a recent poem by Emmanuel Phakathi titled "Who knows it feels it."

Your brush touches paint the same
Spread simple over varied canvas
Meant to make art for eyes
That ache for scenes of beauty
And such beauty is abound
In every nuanced color of our lives

We paints do not get to choose our color
Lead stepped in manure to produce white paint
never got to choose its fate
Nor did the dyes trapped in cochineal insect
destined to be crimson
Weep for all the ground-up bones
Used to enhance beautiful ebony tones
Or the powdered precious stones
Called ultramarine, translated "beyond the sea"

We paints don't get to choose our medium
Like wooden tapestries of African Artists
Rich and earthy, beyond beauty
Or painstakingly bound hempen thread
A dedication of Italian artwork
Or the unknown fresco origin
Which gave painters joy on the Isle of Crete
To the modern U.S. canvas
Made of cotton, PVC, and ingenuity

We do not choose our color
Red, white, black, green, yellow, blue
We do not choose our canvas
From developed nation to those without
We do not choose our origin
We do not choose our ethnicity
We can only choose our actions

I choose to believe
That we are all beautiful paints
Not meant to separate
But rather to blend together
In truest of beautiful form
And spread vivid hues of color
Across this tapestry of Earth

You think you know
But do we
Truly understand ourselves?

Black blood
Pools on a white marble floor
Naked blade
Lying menacingly
Stares at you accusingly
They were there one minute
Gone the next
Slipping through your fingers
Still vermillion shades
Staining fingertips
As you shiver
Shiver so cold
Wishing a thousand wishes
For a friend and truest kindness
To wash you clean
To see your mistakes
And still, see you
Black blood
Pooling between ivory toes
The greatest error of your life
And no one
Is left
To help you clean it up

You are a majestic Pelican;
powerfully built,
graceful in flight,
free as you glide the sea

Yet the sea is fickle;
throwing great squalls,
slashing with rain,
unsafe for flight

And there I am, for you;
a large rock in the sea,
a point of safety,
weathering the storm

Every time your sea gets stormy;
I stay in the same place,
being the same way,
your anchor in a hurricane

Day after day,
and week after week,
I still remain a symbol of strength
for you to escape harm

I pray that you find
a place to firmly plant your feet
because one day, I may need a rock
As my sea gets stormy,
and I become the Pelican

Your arms grow tired
When you
Bear a heavy axe

My fingers
caress the fuzz
on your lower
back

My hands
grip the fuzz
at the base
of your neck

Our
arguments
in my mind
are growing fuzzy

The day
that you left
out the door
is oh so
fuzzy

My fingers
caress the fuzz
on my unshaven
cheeks

My hands
grip the fuzz
of my long hair
I'm such a freak

How the hell
I got here
I don't know
It's so fuzzy

See your picture
through empty bottles
on the nightstand
it's growing fuzzy

i'm your cat
who's lived a life of comfort
and once you open your door
i bolt and i am gone

i'm your brand new painting
meant to be protected
as i move from door to door
but as the weather changes
i bleed upon the street

and i'm all of your problems
held in you so tightly
never let them see me
or they're sure-
to lock you up

My words are broken,
While others choose theirs wisely,
Mine flow without filter
Free as a bird...
And ugly as the pit,
A well from which they're borne
I'll never shake this view
Which haunts me like a scent,
Sweet honeysuckle,
Drifting through open windows;
A poisoned tipped blade
Whose hilt I find
Buried in mine own chest

A smoky bar
Dimly lit, and extra dingy
Not the ma' and pop place
You'd want your kids to go

Those barstools
They always knew me
The way I liked to lean
And listen to that thump

That baseline
Oooooooooh
On an old Rickenbacker bass
She was tuned way low
Low like she meant business

Thunk
With a chunky fuzz
Through a B-52
As it rattled each empty glass

And boy, the ones not empty
Whisky waving
Like a ******* T-Rex
Was walking to your Jeep

Sometimes,
It's only music that
Will ever thump to the beat
Of your heart

The scent fills my kitchen
Powerfully of garlic and cumin
Crockpot steaming as chili heats
With the aroma of coriander
Wafting to the neighbors
As the lamb begins to broil

The kitchen is awash
As the fragrance of yeast grows
sweet bread baking in the oven
Cinnamon and nutmeg
Dance a pirouette delectably
As apple pie cools

This kitchen is alive
The delights that we shared here
We made love once
It was on a cold night after dinner
Right there on that counter
Currently occupied by flour

This kitchen has grown cold
Only salt and pepper do remain
like sentinels to lost times
The microwave dings
It's all I use since you left
TV dinner turns to ash in my mouth

Vans come and vans go
Through godless streets of violence
Through angry crowds who thirst
For blood

Eat the weak on Easter
And feast upon the poster
Children in the garden of Eden
Or maybe rest upon the rock
In Babylon

Freedom isn't free
As we line up, cattle feed
Imbibing of the hate machine
A big blue F that desiccates
Human experience
And makes it bite-size
To represent the life-size
For our ******* pint-size
Pea-brained attempts
At *******

We all stand alone
Atop the heap of corpses
Left in our wake
And smile for the cameras
In our pajamas
Weak-willed
Like those who came before

Love, unlike pizza,
is never good the next day
after it has grown cold

Your intentions remain a mystery,
Like ancient language scrawled on stone,
I do not understand your secrecy,
A perverse desire to remain unknown.

You always were so foreign to me,
No matter the hours spent at dusty tomes,
No knowledge gained of any degree,
As I searched your glyph-filled catacombs.

But in brief, fleeting moments,
I swear I understood
Your hidden dialect of expression,
As your cold air blew
And I breathed you in.

Why do people disagree
With such fire in their voice
When a disagreement can be punctuated
With a handshake and pleasant goodbye?

I wish, on days of blue, to dream of you, to dream of anything, as I am ****** into eternal sky, with jagged frost that nips, and winds that spiral, tumbling from endless, into a spiteful roar, and sounds of wicked winter, tearing clothes from aging flesh, to expose the beauty, the heartbreak, and the ageless tenacity, buried beneath our flesh, and burned into our souls.  I dream of falling into another...  To share and heal these scars.

I swallow deeply
Standing at the gaping maw-
One eternity, infinite, and expanding

We all stand upon this violent ocean,
As sweet words crash like purple waves
Too great to comprehend,
Yet,
Too nagging to ever let go

The black sands curl beneath pink toes-
****** from the journey we must walk,
Devoid of fear and trembling with terror,
Alone on this crowded beach,
As silence splits the night

Wrapped in our softest linens,
Like children dressed for warm baptisms,
And wrapped like mummies for the tomb

The warm breeze chills our soft sorrows-
Magnifying emotions,
Echoes of the days we let slip,
Like ocean waves returning to a long-forgotten past

Our skin is feverish,
Hot to the touch,
With a sickly radiance,
We hide from each other,
So poorly,
And always caught by the crowd's periphery

No description stands
No law holds truth here
None will reign-
Except for the sadness
To which we give ultimate primacy
On this beach of desolate depression

I have been bowlin' semi-colons (for a period of time) as I interject a comma between independent clauses and rhymes.
~