it took 1 look to capture his eyes
it took 2 weeks for him to find me
it took 3 weeks to fall in love
it took 4 days after for me to leave
Time is playing a wicked game with my heart.
It passes right by without disgust,
just when love was settling in.

Cast a Vast Million Colored Words, a Canvas of Solace


Dedicated to Tajudeen Shah
who wrote those words,
a fellow poet, a comrade in words.
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With words we paint,
With syllables we embrace,
Tasked and ennobled,
We are forever fully employed,
Missionaries to all,
You too, are one as well,
Your fate can't be renounced,

So,

Before you pen words of
Lost love, woe begotten troubles,
Nature's royal blues and purples,
Spirits, demons, speeches, mumbles,

First

Write the uplifting sounds,
Cast a million colored words,
Upon a canvas of solace,
Bring one molecule of comfort
To the misbegotten, to the downtrodden,
In any way you can, form matters not,
But let this be our mantra shared,
Let this be our only morning prayer,

A prayer we are obligated to utter,
A prayer we are obligated to fulfill.
Solace, given,
Solace, granted.

Remember
When every secret was ours alone?
Nor do I, dear love.
Our lives together have been documented.
As we hide from ourselves,
And each other,
Everyone else can see
What we have avoided.
Not blind,
Rather, refusing to see in color
Remember when
I loved you less than I do
Nor do I, my love.
Nor do I.

my heart’s an old motel room
all filthy carpets
and no hot water
no fresh towels
to dry yourself
from tears that won’t roll over
like i do in bed

when the sun kisses the earth
i surrender
to 9 to 5 lovers
that kiss my cold corpse
my eyes at ceiling fans
my body in hands
that don’t belong to You

rolling in sheets
rolling papers
the smoke between my fingers
is it the night mist?
or the cigarette silk worms?
I exhale between make believe
love making

the rain raps at the window
asks me why i’m in hands
hands that don’t belong to You
but i can’t roll over
so i wait for tomorrow
to come back down
and start again

HERCULES SON OF ZUES
WHO COULD THROW A PEBBLE AND KILL A MOOSE
FROM A IMMORTAL TO A SINFUL  MAN
FROM RIDING CHARIOTS IN THE SKY, TO DRIVING A VAN

HE WAS BRAVE AND STRONG
AND LIVED VERY LONG
HE FOUGHT THE NINE HEADED SNAKE NAMED HYDRA
AND MARRIED A GIRL NAMED DEIANIRA

THAT WAS THE START OF LOVE THAT COULD NOT PART
BECAUSE IT CAME FROM THERE HEART

It's taken me many years to come to some sort of conclusion about my childhood.
One of the largest obstacles in my way, I think, is my conditioning.
Put your hair up, Boy Soldier, and take off that skirt.
We're going to go play basketball and go to Home Depot.
Don't misunderstand.  I loved those moments with my father.  I still love them, because they are
Moments when we aren't trying to rip out each others' eyes.
I don't think my father could comprehend
That I would have played basketball
And gone to the hardware store
And helped him build model planes all the same
With a bow in my hair, a skirt on my waist,
And a pout on my lip.
I was the Boy Soldier, who should have been Jason Jacob,
With short brown hair and a love for track and field.
What he was given was far too different to make any sense.
But Mary Margaret would always do her best.

A block, a wall. Taller than tall. Away! Far away, forever she will stay. If we have it my way. Because my way is the only way. A contradiction you'll say. A game with no winner; The saint, The sinner. Find a way! It's a new day. Everyday. Mine an yours and their way. Lost my mind! And in no time, you will see; there's a me, and the me that I see. Be free! It could be a melody or a song to sing. New feelings to bring. And in my soul, the story she tells will never fail to lead me. My way. The way. A contradiction I'll say. You'll agree. Love me to hate me. Set you free! Just let it be. You and me.