i remember when i first tried to
tell him about what happened
to me.
i remember going up to him,
like any normal day,
and saying "hi."
he smiled,
asked whats up and
instead of being all cute
like i usually am,
my smile faded and i
couldn't speak.
he knew something was wrong and
he asked, "is it boy problems?"
i laughed a bit,
told him "kind of" and
then i backed away and
said "maybe next time."

i should've told you then.
maybe this hell i'm living in
wouldn't have been so hot with
you here to
cool me
off.

Catatonic inscriptions etches through my textile discernment
Insidious cycles of turmoil encased within a festering distress
Uncertainty obscures my comfort into a chaotic complacency
Transforming the subtle movement of thought and bewilderment
Through the re-occurring sequences of paranoia and my uneasy psychosis
Haunting the whole of this psyche and the mental state I've come to fancy

A tell-tale apprehension of merriment and contentment may be a dismal reality
All the while being obsessed with the unfavorable outcomes I conjure within
But, I can't get enough of the disarray that breeds within my frail skull
So distant from what I feel in the ecstasy of my self-selected normality
The meek proposal of sanity has little to hold against these crooked grins
As this chaotic thought process leaves rationality as a vague ideal to null

Expansive introspection has no limit to what is perceived as validity
And, to be enveloped in the ambiguity and delusion of fact is so enticing
We all know that we've all come to recognize the fabrication of our own truth
The futile attempts to obtain an immaculate conviction in pure solidity
Is so wondrously perfunctory and constant as the life that i'm living
That I dread the day of departure from this hysteric observance of aging youth

always mindful
   not to love things

living so that they
   all could burn
and it would be nothing
   but an inconvenience

three objects
   have escaped my plan
maneuvered
   through my designs

1. old white macbook
   my beautiful
       smart
         well-designed
  whirring piece of brilliant technology
you are already gone. next.

2. wedding rings
  irrelevant
sold those motherfuckas in an instant

3. asian machine love
  i am having a hard time
having to let you go
  my beautiful, black mitsubishi.

i chose you.

i researched for weeks
  analyzing data
comparing machines
  prices
trying to be reasonable

and out of all the machines,
i.chose.you.

you are the perfect shape
  of all vehicle shapes, mitsubishi
i have a slight obsession with
   design
     lines
   c o l o r
      efficiency
speed
    and b  o  o  m  i  n  g SOUND

you are the perfect balance of safety
  including 4WD
and fuel efficiency
  (but you already knew that, didn't you?)

your headlights are so bright
  and your high beams
so magnificent
  it's almost embarrassing

mitsubishi, you little snake...
  you have a manual mode
so i can choose to be a race car driver
  whenever i want

mitsubishi outlander sport, i love you so

let's talk about your face
  you have a pig-face like me
your nose is abrupt
  it's blunt and it's different
and i love it

you know i hate the cold and the snow
  i love the sun and the moon
so you show them to me all the time
  moonroof, mitsubishi - brilliant
(with mood lighting for night? you dog!)

you wipe away the rain
  without me having to ask
you cast light into the dark
  all on your own
gps
  usb
subwoofer
  fockford fosgate
bluetooth

mitsubishi, you shake the earth
  alerting my family
that i am almost there
  blasting music
through my dna
  so that i am made
of vibrations and air
  invisible to the naked eye
or playing my science fiction audiobooks
  at a reasonable
and responsible volume

mitsubishi,
you respond to me with such grace
showing me impossibilities
with a rearview camera
saying, "hello!" in the morning
and, "see ya!" when i leave
(and i believe you mean it)

you heat my ass in the frigid winter
  an alert me with an icon
when i am losing traction
  or there may be ice
i could not ask for more, my machine love.

the deer was not your fault.
or mine, or the deer's.
  we were all doing what we do,
and to be quite honest,
  the deer got the shit end of the stick, mitsubishi.
i'm sorry about your dent and your crack
  i wanted to fix it, but i love you even more now

you are my one machine love
  with power
combustion
  and pistons
you are electric
  intelligent
and you boom
  sleek
comfortable
  well designed

i don't want to see you burn.
it would be more than an inconvenience.

two out of three things are gone.

but i chose you. i want you still.

my home is gone - fine.
my things are gone - fine.
that bastard is gone - fine.
my job is gone, mitsubishi.
  i am being stripped bare.

i am being humbled, mitsubishi.

i have to let you go.

but i'm not ready,
my asian machine love.

we have a peace plant in our living room
when it's thirsty it's leaves drag on our dust
filled floors and it's blooms look like the
eyelids of the old crackwhore that walks
around on grant street when she's looking
for change to buy her next forty- brown,
bruised, and sagging, as if they've seen
enough to last them a lifetime

i oblige the whore often, giving her
quarters and whatever else i can find
in my backpack, i oblige the plant too,
giving it water and opening the blinds,
but neither seem to be reaching a better
quality of life, despite my best efforts

i find myself in inconceivably unforgiving
situations often, because of my best
efforts, and i'm beginning to wonder
when i lost sight of what it means
to really, truly, wholeheartedly give

We are as simple as rain and a tree
No double looks, no second glances, nothing to see
You are magnificent, you just don’t know it
I come every once in a while to make you show it
I seep into your veins, and watch you grow
Only to come and kill you, later, as snow
You stick true to your ground, growing and dying alike
I come down and ruin people’s lives

We are as simple as rain and a tree
Just nature at it’s finest, nothing to see
You provide your warmth, your body, your love to everyone else
And I will be here to nurture, and watch you sprout
I will come when you need me, leave when you don’t
Only to see that you still don’t know
You stick true to your ground, growing and dying alike
But you don’t know yourself, and it’s killing you inside

We are as simple as rain and a tree
Living in misery, yet nothing to see
You are beautiful and your essence shows it
I try to tell you, but you just don’t know it
I will be here until the end of time
You will stay, and I will watch you die
You stayed true to your friends, and the people you loved
But you neglected yourself and perished in doubt
That day I cried like no one else

We were as simple as rain and a tree
I loved you and you loved me

He was out the door, slammed shut in 2004
and he couldn't get back in even if he wanted to
because the lock broke after he moved out to Hadar
the arm pit of Haifa, and wouldn't tell me where he was
as a punishment for my banishing him.

A friend saw him on Masada street.
In the end that proved to be his street
oh, the time I had for friends, in the hot Mediterranean sun
dinners in cramped living rooms with laughter and wine and always
houmus.  You can't eat a meal without it, and prints of art on the wall
and the cement floor, and the too many cats

So he'd crash in, do something that had to be done, insult me, and leave
and this was it
I sat in that big apartment with he fancy black cement floors and smoked
cigarettes and took the bus to the cat shelter to clean 25 cat boxes in a cold water
bath tub and set them out to dry in the sun
and hang discarded clothes on a fold out clothes rack, each cat got a shirt to lie on
and instant coffee and chocolate at 4:45 PM and cigarettes as cats walked around in the
sunset

But at home, sometimes I'd try to get him back, if I could
But he could always be so much more mean, poking at the tender spots
without remorse and I learned, not to fight back
Just to collapse and cry as the door slammed or he said something
and then stormed out, absolutely not caring

There were my friends, here I have no time for friends,
and I talked to him and prepared for a time when I'd go back and
have no time for friends again
Everything would be work, work, get yourself back on track
you've lost so much time

But here, too, the losses are deep and I sit in my own apartment, with
carpet and a dishwasher, that I could only have dreamed of having then
and my own car in the parking lot,  and

People make me cry.  
People where I work, people I mistook for friends
and it's better now, I now, if I can only follow through
to seek no revenge
but just to mourn
Because the world can be more cruel and cold and uncaring
than I can ever imagine
there's no competing
it's better to sit and cry here, too

The world is crazy, not sugar coated its evil…
Motivated by money, the love of it is in people…
Your soul should not embody capitalism...
By that I mean worldly gain if so then your soul is trapped in prison…
People want more instead of accepting what’s given…
I’m talking life, yeah there’s plight, but it’s your choice to do wrong or right
Freedom of choice is God given
Your life should be modeled off Christ not simply living
It seems as though I should get my cake up
Thoughts of reality, fleshly casualty, spiritually I know to get my faith up
Eyes open yet sight of the blind when will we wake up?
Not one president has been the Messiah
Stand behind the youth as shells fall from gun fire
Understand that oil prices will get higher
War will stop then continue, lives will continue to expire
Since the beginning man has thrived to not die but stay alive
Thoughts of Immortal,
Jesus lived and died and rose so death he survived
Because of him death is just a portal

I've been living in this STERILE world
card board, cut out lawns
one, two, three...
what the fuck am I supposed to do?
who the fuck am I supposed to be?

Everyday there's a fight inside my mind,
my mental state fights my body
and my body fights me
and they say "you're strong, just let it be."
but I'm dying inside just to keep what's left
the money is all here
but I feel like a theft
and I swear to God I am getting further from my soul everyday
cause the truth is I grew up fighting
and now nothing is that way

It's the spirit inside
for the tough times we endure
the spirit that carries us through
and keeps us secure

and no one woulda believed the fucked up I endured
cause I act like Martha Stewart
and so self assured

Martha I love you,
but fuck you.
This shit aint for me.
Martha I love you,
but I'm telling you
I just gotta be free.

If your outer appearance change
Your kisses will stay the same
As you grow old and get closer to the Lord..
Your growth in him, makes me love you even more..
As I think of times before..
When they use blades..
For you I would take a sword..
Present day take a bullet die for you..
Like Christ..
For him I die and live..for you I live and die..
I am a living sacrifice..
You are my wife..
Show the lost the Godly context of marriage..
What Gods love looks like..
If they disrespect you they disrespect me..
Blood of my blood . flesh of my flesh..
Confused because I treat you better than me..
God first ..wife second..God puts everything else in perspective
In its place
Look at yours as I seek his face..
He knows best..
As I write this I know you can feel this in your chest..
Its spiritual the way we connect..
Connected to the vine.
Branches of the same tree...
So when the wind of the Holy Spirit moves we both feel the breeze..
I should propose to you daily and drop to one knee..
Make every effort to keep this fresh..
Like that fire that consumes and purifies the flesh..
Passionately love like I am about to take my last breath..
Passion felt nights..
Compassion as I wipe the tears from your sight..
The tears I miss God catches them..
Thrive for the mark my life reflecting him
You see my heart for those who are rejecting him..
So I am a hearer of the word..
The Holy Spirit in obedience have me do what I do..
Love but reject the world

how lonely sits
the city says
lamentations

guess this mouse has what you americans call post traumatic
stress disorder,
think of it more like
a path for the
eyes.

one where eyes are finally forced away
from the works of hands
by the knock knock
knocking on
heaven's door,
everybody's saying,
hodi hapa? something's
wrong if no one's answering; tonight.

my neighbor whose
name is eej (for
real) came to
the hut with
his friend.

i said do you
have siblings
he said
i did

oh

said i

you are living
my worst nightmare
one thing about an african

childhood, they say fatalism, you say you
would think about death too
and who knows

what you'd
look
like

tonight by the bagel van i said bunkle
i gotta problem
what's your problem said he
well i think i'm not wearing enough colors
no said he you're missing a bright splash in the orange red family

who knows what we all look like
inside the infinite space
of our souls

wonder if
blue means purity or
green means beauty
or red means strength
or love
or love

well
we all look
pretty much
the same asleep

hatred doesn't look
different in one
eye or another

but why does
it have to
be in the
eyes of
anyone

this mouse has
been asking
since
child
hood

why
why
why.

the cruelty

but
yet
still
and
for
ever

(you always did care for me yeah
you always did share with me yeah)

you always make me laugh, still

the book of jonah makes me
think of sea legs
and just everything,
you know all
the palm trees
huts, nonvoices
of our lives

the blessings rain down
an ocean sunsetting
on an Ocean sky.

siblings

be strong the
good kind of
dangerous

is
the



fire