Even now as I live, sing and paint
Eat drink, love and make merry
Wondering of my source, roots unknown
Aware of this body and the world transient
A pushing soul ever screaming for good
A mind pondering of my seed and state
A million eons past,zillions more in future.

WHO AM I ?!

Still tempted by flesh, corrupted in greed
overcome by the same transience perceived
When the universe expanded shrinks fast
To an atom, a silent sound unheard by earth
I am just bony dust in a star afar dead again
Do I matter? yes I am here and I am now, mindful
Of right and so UN-scared of death,the seed of life
I live paint and sing,for my place on the star afar dead!

I AM THAT.


Jeez,reading after four whiskeys it sounds crazy! What the heck! Still makes some weird sense to me!

A smile like gold,
A heart like dust.
Eyes like the rain,
A face that will only bring pain.

He tells you things,
Like how you look nice.
He kisses your cheeks,
And makes you blush.

Uses your body,
Like you're a doll.
Tells you sweet words,
To make you fall.

Pushes you down and takes control.
He doesn't care about you,
Or anything in this world.

He tells you he loves you,
He tells you he cares.
He tells you he will always be there.

His lips only speak lies,
His hands only do what they know how to do;
They softly brush your heart,
And then they tear it apart.

I wrote love on her arms,
Across her body,
Through her veins.

I wrote love on her arms,
To cleanse her,
And soothe her.

I wrote love on her arms,
So she could fill her lungs,
And let out a sigh of relief.

I wrote love on her arms,
To heal her bruises,
And scars.

I wrote love on her arms,
To remind her,
That she's worth it.

I wrote love on her arms,
So she could step away from the precipice,
And take a step closer to me.

I wrote love on her arms,
Because she could wear her heart on her sleeve,
And know mine is right there beside hers.

in a world where the world ends
at the end of the block,
carnivores watch and stare
when i skin my knee jumping
the fence into mr. mcgregor's garden.

where is it that we were together?
who were you that i lived with?

back past the old levee road,
a fen fox bounds over the ridge,
squeezes through the fence,
licks its snout and teeth
and sneaks under the briar patch.

does nature vie with itself?
land contend with sea?

in mr. mcgregor’s garden,
tomatoes sag heavy on the vine
and the atropa, creeps,
trespasses around the hedge.

a glance from your eyes
and my life would be yours.

under the old earth buried
deep as marrow,
a rabbit rises from its rest,
and runs from the dark.

is this darkness in you too?
have you passed through this night?

The howl and gnashing of teeth-
They slice.
The fox sinks deep
into hair and blood.
Rabbits scream when they die.

How'd it steal into the world?
What seed, what root did it grow from?

Mr. McGregor yells, the backdoor slams.
I jump the fence, run home
lock all the windows.
My mother asks “Are you alright?”

Hours like months,
days like years.

Back to the door
I stay quiet, wonder
what will the farmer do
with the body?

That death's got the final word,
it's laughing at her.

Ineffable:
Too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words; Too sacred to be uttered.
-------------------------–-------—---------------------------­-------------------------------------------------

The whimpered cries of the dying
in the rubble of Bangladeshi avarice,
announcing we were worthy of life,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.

The still alive cries of children,
tornado-tormented parents screaming unfair,
teachers body shielding their charges, whispering
save us Lord, from your inventive toys,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.

The first alive cries of new born lungs,
I have grandson, stain-less, perfect,
recovering in the stainless steel delivery room,
I hear the all babies pronouncing
a Hebrew blessing, Shecheyanu
(Blessed are You, Lord our God,
Master of the universe, who has kept us alive and sustained us
and has brought usto these special moments)
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.

The unspoken devotions of adoration
of the sleeping chamber, that cannot
be heard or answered for they're dreamt,
perchance in the morning thankfully recalled,
enough to be transcribed,
to which we think to ourselves,
a whispery, silent
amen.

Ineffable.

The disgusted silence of the God they pray to
in his holy places, when Jew spits upon Jew,
Muslim or anyone holier than me,
for forgetting in whose image they were created,
to which we cannot say nor think
anything.


Ineffable,
too sacred to be uttered,
so instead of the paucity of these words,
know each tear in the reservoir of my eyes
is my unspoken poem prayer.

Instead of answering amen out loud,
wipe my eyes
with your fingertips,
silently.

Your eyes are what caught mine when I first saw you.
Those never-ending oceans on your face.
I could swim forever, getting lost in their waves.

They were beyond hypnotizing, they were soul-capturing.
Sometimes I would catch myself leaning closer to you because I was caught in their pull,
And I would try to snap out of it, but end up gravitating to your gaze again.

How can such blue eyes burn like fire. It doesn't make any sense.
And yet each time you looked at me I was scorched by your stare,
Feeling my skin and heart melt like candle wax dripping helplessly down my body.

Eyes have always been a weakness for me, for they hold so many secrets.
All these emotions, and feelings, and riddles are right there in two portals of a person's soul.
However, your eyes were a lesson for me.

I thought that eyes were easily read, that I had the key to unlocking a person's true thoughts,
But yours threw me. You have the power to act like one emotion, but have an endless amount
Of others sealed away in the deep crevices of your heart and mind, unattainable to me.

Those eyes bewitched me, body and soul, mind and heart.
Before I knew it, I was too far gone, trapped in a storm,
When all I thought I was doing was wading in the calm waves.

I can’t taste you anymore
And my whole body has gone numb
The beat of my heart consumes me
My throat must weigh a ton
There should be a eulogy
When true lovin’ ups and dies
Yet the time I spend mourning
Is my only consolation prize

Up to the time it happens
You worry that it will
Avoiding ever so cleverly
The final straw that kills
But you know, it’s not so bad
That’s if you at least love yourself
Or if you can find some special comfort
In that certain someone else

I hate the miracle of my anatomy!
Cried the woman-poet from the
bed

the man slipping silently off her
while in the next room
the dogs howled at a
television nature-show.

That night he had
called her brood-mare,
took her to pasture,
tied her to a post and shot her

and now he reclines
all broad shoulders, white
chest and body hair, smug in animal
satisfaction, one with the dogs
in the living room.

She covers the flood-plains
of her hips with blankets
and prays that his
hooks didn't catch,
feeling like a basin collecting
groundwater as it flows off the
mountain face.