how many coins do we have? you count
and I’ll see; call out as you count, tell me
how much exactly; and then how many days
it will take us to…Little Boy with his crutches
can buy a new one, maybe
and a new shawl for mama…
throw it, one coin against the other as you count;
I love to hear the clink of coins…ha, ha –
you know, sometimes
I even lick a coin to see if it’s pure…mama says I’d get sick
if I did that…yeah, certainly not as sweet on the tongue
as the grapes and fruit we sell, but certainly tastes well
to me in my mind
have you another coin in the other palm?
this day a Lord’s servant bought
some grapes in the street corner;
she said it was for her master’s table,
and our grapes were glowing and fresh
much as what her master loves…and she was kind to me…
did you count the other coin? sometimes I wonder, you know,
how many coins we will need till the end of our lives,
like to the time, say, when Old Boko died last autumn –
how many coins will it take to see us to that moment?
Yes, and of course, how many grapes
would we need to sell to collect that amount?

It all started out so innocently
A thrift store here, a garage sale there
Anyways, Lord knows how bad I needed
The chartreuse rug of that polyester bear

It goes perfect in my kitchen
Though I can barely see the floor
Just need to move a few piles that grew
From me buying trinkets by the score

Some say I'm a crazy hoarder
I've seen the show and I'm not that bad
Anyway who doesn't need
A stuffed albino Siamese cat

Then there's all the broken plates of china
That I got for a steal
If I ever do find my stove again
I'll use them for my next meal

Why ask why I save all these milk jugs
You never do know when
A herd of cattle will be passing through
The middle of my den

You may say crazy hoarder
I may say I think not
When I look at pile after pile
Of all the treasures that I've got

If you ever care to visit
Just step over this, crawl over that
Till you come to that little itty bitty empty spot
Where we can sit back and relax
And have a little chat,
over this this and that,
maybe why it is ducks quack,
is it brains that they lack,
that my friend is whack...

Crazy Hoarder?!?
Don't make me laugh...

The gnomes sang and danced while the faeries all pranced
and the elfins got drunk by the fire
The pixies hummed tunes and got stoned on mushrooms
I can't remember what happened to the choir.

Sethark the lord of the dark was roused from his sleep by the din
the djinn in the lamp though he at first appeared camp
wished up the drawbridge and pulled in the ramp.

This gathering, like babies were safe in the glades
while Sethark from Hades was sharpening the blades.
But it all fizzled out when Sethark gave a shout
to a beautifully jewelled little lady
and they tarried away somewhere deep in the hay
and the result was a devilish imp of a baby.

The party goes on though the pixies have gone
because too many mushrooms had doomed them
and now they're doomed to the glens
banished from the fens
No longer to hum or strum on guitars
nor sing sweet melodies to the brightest of stars
sad tales are told by old faeries and gnomes
of pixies evicted from family homes
but they know in their bones that it should have been them in the glen
but say nothing of this thing
or bad luck they will bring on you.
The story that's told is quite true
Believe if you wish
and if you wish it
it's true.

I am a pretender.

Looking through a window that is slightly open,
so that a breeze winds in
with gathered memories
of subliminal pain.

And I'm lost
partially wandering on a plot of unknown sand.
With the sun no longer reflecting,
refraction.
A reddening burn
and a quickened pulse
aching loins
and held breath.
I know where I am.

I am a fake.
But I cannot go through with it.
If I do not in the "real,"
why lie online?
Why hide myself
and view myself
criticize myself in comments with names that aren't mine,
not even who I want to be?

Why do I ignore myself,
and let fade into lingo.

Because I am human
and I don't want you to know me.
Even when I want you to feel,
I want you to share this moment with me.
And that is why
I post these
discombobulating pieces of no reckoning,
non-entertaing, ultimate suck "poems."
Because I want you to understand this
                                                                        me
in this instant.

thinking about giving away your secrets,
because you haven't for awhile.

and for each and every one you smoke a cigarette.

a drag of confidence gone.

it's four days in and I'm the girl at the mailbox.
5 a.m and already earning stares from the neighborhood joggers.

"hello mr. tomani"

another value tarnished.

call in the dogs,  shut the door,
in the end, you go back to your bed,
call off the experiment,
declare that side of you dead.

you would like to know what it is that you want.

Under the darkness
That's where we were
The light of the moon
Lighting the car
I see your eyes
As they stare at my face
As your fingers touch me
And my body they trace
The feeling between us
Was unbelievable
It's undeniable
At least for me
Who knows if we'll ever be
What I know in my heart
All I ever want to see
Is us never to be apart
I cry in the night
By that same moonlight
Thinking about what I've lost
And the lines I've crossed
To try to be with you
Something I'll always do
Like I said I'll always be chasing
Even when it's heartbreak I'm facing.

You know I've been having a hard time lately
The world and life has been getting to me
And I can't find a loophole
Or an escape

I feel the hands of clocks grabbing me
They pin me down
And feed me lessons
I have yet to live and understand
I lie here
Floating like a blossom
Set free and wracked by constant tension
Below my surface
And behind my back

The days are too long
The nights too short
I didn't ever notice
That I have no choice

And its spiders that I feel creep all over me
Prickle my skin in the dark
Inject my skin with their venom
Float my brain in paralysis
The trick of the trade
Never saw me coming
It swept right by
I float stagnant
In a pool of indecision
And it makes me question
Everything

14/01/2013

Do you know this feeling,
It starts in your heart then travels to your mind,
It takes control of every emotion,
Makes you lose all common sense
It makes you heart race but still you feel you could die.

Do you know this feeling,
It leavetou stunned without words but you feel you could scream out loud
Where your heart feels like it being crushed
By your ribs and the harder you try
The less you can breath

Do you know this feeling
it takes control of all your thoughts
Making all the good memories feel like lies
And the more you try to put the pieces together
The more you see they don't belong

Do you know this feeling
It makes your mind scattered,
uncontrolled, obsessed,
Trying to figure out where it all went wrong
Trying to make sense out of it all

Do you know this feeling
It leaves you heart broken,
Your body aching and your soul begging
For everything to stop
Begging your eyes to stop crying
Your mind to stop thinking
And life to stop ending

Do you know this feeling?

(For one)
I don't want
(to know more of)
the way seconds never cease colliding into
(something, either external or internal to)
others in a rippling shimmer of
(the consciousness, is)
moments that never possess the finality
(a divine madness of quantification.)
which we cry of to
(The Ego, who comparatively weighs)
others in re-tellings of
(self against anything not defined by)
our lives. This
(the chemical current of self-awareness,)
is a truth too often refused
(in accepting such divine madness)
from our emotional responses
(begins a spewing tornado of self deterioration)
to physical objects
(as the universe which contains self)
and our fluctuating position
(begins to fully exist.)
to them. Yet, in that
(As the universe is more fully known)
i live in a continual agony
(by constructs of the conscious self,)
which knows not the ceasing satisfaction of
(the increasingly perceived universe, which begins to outweigh)
the total fulfillment of
(constructs of self,)
a singularity of identity in space and time,
(makes existence appear impossible)
are the screams of my eternality.

There is no more reason for tears,
The fight is over.
The flames cannot burn on the ashes.
The volcano is dead
It succumbed to the heat from its own lava,
Melted from inside and then
Evaporate into the air,
Like a man who loves and dies.
Like me and you.

But there is a war, I know.
A war without battle,
Without fight,
With no winners
And no  loosers,
A war with neither "rights" nor "wrongs".
A war drifted by the waves of  time
On a battlefield where everybody
And everything which exist
Simply dance
And dance,
Composing this eternal motion
Where nothing is either absolute
Or obsolete
But merely an purely
Beautiful.