1
Like the  turning sheets
of a monthly calender,
life has layers after layers.

How would he know that ,
just a callow youth on  sea shore
playing with  smooth pebbles,
that was when he saw her first.

She was the woman who
taught him, whole cities lay merged
within a woman, like wave after wave,
she was a mystery like life itself.
There is no way to decipher.

2
They first met
in the city of light,
Diwali lamps were lit
in all courtyards,
It was an immortal moment
in his  life, he realized,
leading him gently to the light
which evaded him though he assiduously sought,
she parted without a word
Did she belong to someone else?
3
The city of sorrow,
yet again brought them  face to face
Ridden with angst of existence
he stumbled, was about to fall, then
he  could experience her iron will
more than a woman, she stood, like a pillar of strength,
she took his weary head in both hands, pressed to her breast,
pulled out the crown of thorns, their paths
diverged again, inexplicably complex, was their relationship.
4
In the city of guilt,
an unexpected meeting again,
they were surprised. Here, they were on their own.
They  wanted to take their lives in their hands,
in spite of the currents that pulled them to different directions.
But he knew all the while that her self, was divided between
three cities in her.They co-existed, Light.Guilt.Sorrow
will their love survive? Not all loves are intended to live long,
a parrot in his tree of loneliness always whispered.He pretended he didn't hear,
A game of dice, almost was their lives, mysterious forces did bet on their lives,
Having traveled through fire and water, she was beyond pleasure and pain,
Kali with a fiery nose stud, female power that overcomes all pain,
she became, that shattered his dreams for them.
He was thankful, to be awakened by her,
the light she lit, burned bright, within.

Now or never.He crossed the river.
Deliverance comes from an inner source,
otherwise all will end as an idiot's tale
signifying nothing.
Her flame lighted his wick, liberated him.
5
Fire spitting dragons one can tame,
but in the duel with demons of life,
it could be a blood letting end,
call it play of chance or what ever
they are the  easy game here
He  packed his backpack and
started to move eastwards,
Westward bound was she, invariably,
her heart had still a song left for him,
the void was filled, the pain was stilled
with anesthetics of mind.
Just for one last time they went to the beach,
watching the sunset was their good bye to each other.
They never met again.

So last night
I whispered all of your dreams unprompted
I saw your jaw drop but I tried to conspicuously not pay attention;
I just liberated you from from a bar of twenty men all drooling
I fend them off and kept two of you entertained with only one of me
and the dreams of my dreamy elusive brother coworker or friend
I paid a lot of attention to the needs and dreams of your cute companion
But if I'm honest
even though I was making sure she was safe
cause that's what i do
I was looking at you and dreaming
I was staring straight into your eyes
looking straight into your soul
I don't have much of almost anything
but I can look deep down and see true
most people really don't believe it
and i don't blame them, why would you?
But there was a moment there
In the garage while we were talking
when you were looking at me
like you loved me
more than anything
that had ever come or gone
and it was the briefest of moments
but i fucking swear i saw it
and it made me love you
with you dirty blond hair
and all of your compassionate let's just take care of my friend care
I mean, yes
Like i heard you
you have a boyfriend
you say it like it's means something
to someone like me
....who's only ever always confronted with adversity

I have a back burner
for you
and all of your friends
and it's not like
im saying anything
it's honestly
a little bit
of everything
but mostly
and surprisingly so
a lack of interest
in anything intelligent or courageous
it's like the human race took 5
and was all over it
so yeah
can't ever really quite describe
what I'm looking for
what lights up the fire
what stokes the soul
behind my eyes
cause i'm a believer
and i believe most true
and i think im feeling something
maybe i love you

...I remember who talked to me all night about everything
about significant things great and small
tiny odd reccolecctions
everything her things my things your things all things fuck pretty much everything
That I answered or said without saying as things that are true
I might have lied
Because you started talking like my dreams...
I covered every base what the fuck do you want me to do?
You were so fucking cool
I think I met your friend
Only to meet you
or your boyfriend...
fuck i seriously hope that one ain't true but like I'm a buhhdist now and can't say
It's like you have never met a man who see's the future
A gingerbread man baked and burned in the oven for fun
Who got tortured for years into a smile that we all love
It's like we all take things so seriously instead of laughing and drinking
and hearing the endearing lunacy of our friends
fuck if we just took a minute to wait and pretend to understand all of that darkness we let lurk in
it would be like a circus show of light delivering all of us from the three ring thing of everything
that is bad
our own macabre circus of rejection, judgement, and humiliation for all of our kind. So when you are done with your boyfriend, fiance, husband, i know not yet; talk to me first before every voyage and adventure set in opposition just for the fuck of it.
but what you can't count on
is that i'm so much older and I've been around
I don't think you might know what it is like
to double down
over years and years
it's like you get a discount
on the odds
for multiples of five years
cause who really lasts that long?
maybe me
Maybe you.
but who knows
cause life is like a lotto taro hurricane
no sense to distribute the sad recompense
let's just fucking spend it before we pay
on all the debts we just made
and all of the futures that greyed out just fadet(ed)
that's the point of grey vistas
all the deals and the souls we just promised in casual relation to make it
We try to pretend
we're all samurai
noble sacrafice to budo
it's cool that i alone must die
but i think we all smell some bullshit
in the way and the feel of this philosophy
that tells us to fight it instead of accept it
so let's beware those wayward philosophies
that perhaps might be misguided
telling us that nothing matters
now
or anytime
as opposed to those that tell us
to simply love
all of those that surround us

I'm playin' with fire, know I'm gonna get burned
I'm playin' with fire, know I'm gonna get hurt
I was playin' with fire so I got burnt

How come she don't want me like the other girls do?
They look at me while I stare at you

The scars on my back look like a thousand heart attacks
Thats because they are, each time you stuck the knife in
My heart turned a little more black

Now all I got is this ice box where my soul used to be
It's locked up and I hope I never find the key
I'd like the cold of the pain to remain a part of me

-J.A.M

As far as Good Contact with Cats concerned
Where Hard Fingers plate his Long-Standing Skill
To peel all Doubts; And other Picknicks burned
As for that Moment he goes for the Kill
So Sixteen Wings - each plomb their Unique Draft
Shower their Graces for his Faith restore
Despite most Secrets may reduce his Tact
His Gift of a Gear's Living Edge breathes more
Thanks to you. All and still less Condition
Plunge a Goblin like me for my Wrinkles
Though try as I might to brace his Rendition
Were Molten Syrups bled for my Freckles.
I Understand. With two Posted Views contrite
The same Blue Hero admit to my Incite.

Please let the rain pour and the fire burn so that they can show each other what it's like to work in symmetry in collision with one another, as they create a smoky mist.

Please let the earth's rolling hills reach up and grab the sky so that the dividing line will be erased.

Please let these boundaries we create based on appearances be washed way, blown away, burned, and buried so that we can create something that has not yet been achieved.

Peace.

You tell me that I am young
That life has merely licked me, not stung
That I do not understand, that I have not yet lived
Enough to grasp the substance

I have known disease
Slow tears, muted pleas
Pain that nothing could appease
I have known the smell of hospitals for summers
The beeping and slurping of machine in massive numbers

I have spoken to voiceless loved ones,
Loved ones with teethless mouths and twisted tongues
Distorted jaws and wheezing lungs.
We have spoken with little green charts
And broken hearts
From the inability to connect the mouth to the thoughts in the head
And I left without understanding,
What they had said
Because I eventually had to let it go
(I still don't know)

I have spent countless summer nights
In nature’s garb, floating silently in a river
So warm that my limbs, skimming the surface, didn't shiver
Under a clear sky, the stars like paradisiac lights
Without anyone ever finding out
About these wild and primal escapades

I've drank, I've smoked
I have burned my throat
With coarse lemon gin
Until I could no longer feel my skin.

I have been frightened
Yes I have felt fear, like a noose around my throat being tightened
Like a gruesome black crow, perched on my shoulder
I have often awoken affright at night,
Longing, praying, for the morning light
I have felt fear, wild, fierce and turbulent fear
More than anyone will everyone will ever know
By men, by life, by myself
Desolate under the sheets, like a forsaken toy
All by myself

I have seen Paris in the rain
Traveled the French countryside by train
I've woken up to New York window views
And seen New Orleans afternoons, filled with heat and blues.
I've swam the Mexican Baja waters, turquoise and clear
With snakes as sharp as spears

I have known humiliation
Causing my cheeks to turn carnation
A spoon, emptying my insides out
Like a gourd

I have loved
I have known the aching pain of a swelled heart
And the way it can tear you apart
I have gushed torrents upon my pillows and sleeves
Tears running down my chin like guilty thieves
From a lit-up house

I have known death, and grief
The meaning of "never"
Whimpering in the school bathroom
And cold, lonely nights

I have seen the works of Van Gogh, Mondrian, and Miro,
Modigliani, Cezanne, and Frida Kahlo
Of Monet, Gauguin, Matisse, Magritte, and Picasso
I have wandered through hallways of masterpieces
Holding tight to my grandmother's hand
And I have wept shamelessly for joy
Before Degas's La classe de danse

I have been diagnosed
I have undergone computer programs designed to shift my brain, to better it
To get me to be normal, to submit
I have had brain-altering medicine shoved down my throat,
Like stuffing a goose,
To make my brain run a little less loose
And I have submitted and gotten use to my brain being altered.

I have had kisses that were mere trifles
Frivolous, yet fierce and acute like shots from a rifle
Lips of mere flesh, not sweet godly nectar
And gazes that meant everything
That seemed to connect with an invisible yet indestructible string
Iris like distant galaxies and pupils twinkling like black jewels
Eyes that seemed enkindled by some ethereal fuel
Speaking of emotions far too secluded, cryptic and cluttered
To be worded and uttered

I know the way in which violence resides
Not in commotion, brusqueness, nor physical harm
But in silence
In the time that covers pain and secrets
In the slow impossibility of trust
In the way that some secrets become inconceivable to tell, time has so covered them in rust
In that dull, dismal ache
In all that is doomed to remain forever opaque.

I have read, for pleasure,
The works of Balzac, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck, and Voltaire
Of Bobin, Gaude, and Baudelaire
Of Flaubert, Hemingway
and good old Bradbury, Ray
Émile Zola,  Primo Levi
Moliere, Rousseau, and Bukowski
I have read, and loved, and understood

I have known insomnia
The way a beach knows the tides
Sleepless nights of convulsive, feverish panic, of clutching my sides,
Of silent hysteria and salty terror.
I know what happens at night, when sweet slumber seems so far away
The worries and woes seem to multiply and swell in hopeless disarray
My lips grow pale, my eye grow sunken
As a time ticks by, tomorrow darkens




I have witnessed horror
In the form of a blue body bag
Being rolled out with a squeaking drag
By two yellow-vested men
With apologetic eyes
That seemed to say "Oh god
We're so sorry you had to see that
Please, please
Go home
And try to forget"

But you are right
I am still just a child
Naive, innocent, and pure
I have known nothing dark or obscure
I have not yet lived.

We jumped from the night and
fell into the moon
upside down
in fractured dreams.
He told me
if I could picture it,
I could live it.
Reality is a broad market.

He came with golden eyes,
silver lips, quilted with satin
like the finest-dressed mannequin.
His puppet fingers
dealt a card; a blow, hard.
I wept with despair.
The Lovers, it read,
the world darkening
around his hair.
What does it mean,
I said.

We made love
through the storm,
wrote about it.
Him, a satire.
Me, a poem.
He lit a fire,
but it burned blue.
I waited for him to say
I love you,
but he dressed himself
in frantic black,
walked out,
never came back.
My desperate skin fell off,
stripping like cracked paint;
a whisper, a cough
and I crumbled.
There was a tinge of pain
in every act of sin,
love, lust and shame,
my burden heavy enough
for the two of us
but conveniently made for only one.

I tinkered with the tarot
deck he left behind
for me. Every night,
I unveiled my destiny.
The Tower.
Outside, thunder.
The hour slipped like sand
in a glass timer,
the moon crying into the sea,
dust drying up the sun.
The animals sing songs for me.

Locked into my metamorphosis,
I wait for the card of the Lovers,
burning for my virginal kiss,
clutching at my covers.

I send letters to the rain,
my heart dissolving like a pill
as the flood sends my words
over the hill
and back to my ears.
There are too many years.