A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely,

Profligating goons in obsidian gowns
gathered under rainbow
moonshine shaking bronze hands,
howling and ******,   in the shambles of the moon,  
rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight.
The mellow marines mourned over malice,
lionizing over lost ones,
many howled venerated, exalted in wonder
in  favor of their thrilling grace, and delight,
and brilliance, and might!
but some neighboring sticklers,
    behaved haughty and in disdain,  
of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes
signaling out
                 to the seers of the sea,
singing to the wands overwatching the wedding,
and ravens listened,
   roving like noble patrolsmen.

Traveleres and trainees at sea
   humble and bright
niave, and frieghtened
in traverse,
           volatile and toiling,
           tireless,
Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,)
Rumaging through rain,
fireciely,
rallying and rableroused,
through towering halls of mohogony,
     hefty and wholesome were their hearts
though, beast of the woodsy edifice
were foul and benumb
scowling with contempt,
haste to devide and devised to hindrance.

Hence the heroes heed
   to the valleys of rose, and violet,
and strawberry fields of forever,
 seeking Saint Nicholas,
in the bustling Byzantium,
      in the murky shadows of doubt.

"I got them old bones man"*
There shakin’
And there rattlin’
These demons
I’m battlin’
Time
Is unraveled in
Sin, desperation, disbelief
Misconduct and mischief

Stretching
Feels like a prison camp
For old men
Where all those old men do
Is stretch
My body is a concern as my mind
wanders,
And ponders,
And potentially acts, on
large acts of
greatness
and I bear witness
to future bewilderment
that has already past
but lingers,
and fingers,
the ******* blame
on my ***.

I wanna live a life of positive affirmations
That’s what I feel is happenin’ you know what im’ sayin
And I keep playin
Games I love and things that I believe
Goals not yet not accomplished
And new one’s I wanna achieve

And a New year brings new things
Don’t break your dreams
Don’t undervalue and don’t leave
Places you don’t want to be
Don’t be a double negative
Take advantages of openings and opportunities
Don’t be a hypocrite and you will completely agree

All those good things
Your gonna do more of in a new year

No matter how niave, egocentric  or misadvised…

… in someone else’s eyes  

Have no fear
share your gifts
and create your gifts
don’t buy them,
and if you buy them
don’t buy them at walmart
or in malls or in big cities

Everything I ever wish to write
Is an anthem to change the world
And the revolution starts
As soon as I change
As soon as I arrange my priorities

**** the majority

Start a brother/sister sorority,
And I will put down this beer,
Quit a job that doesn’t matter
And put my energy
Into passions and emergencies
And change the world
By meditating
Saying some kind words about myself
With my eyes closed
While deeply breathing
And exploring galaxies with ease
The entire universe…

… I think I Am going back to university

I'm not heartless or jaded or broken
Though I have been rejected a few times before
I'm still complex but I'm working on it
And all that matters is not what I've done, but what I'm doing to be better than yesterday
I'm not exactly where I wish to be just yet
I am still sensitive and protective and I admit I have doubts
I don't say sorry as much as I should, but I have my way of making ammends
I'm not lost or searching or impulsive and weak
I'm curious and interested in expanding my horizons
My imagination takes me everywhere and sometime I don't want to come back
But I still try my best to improve what I do have
I do what I can and when I fail it's a lesson
If I didn't do my best, I'll take a look at what went wrong
I'm a hopeless romantic and a dreamer in the process of making use of my life and all my potential
I can be funny, sarcastic and niave all at once
But there are times when I'm serious and all I want is respect
I earned what I have and threw away many oppurtunities
But thats the beauty of life whether I like it or not
I forgive easily and remember most things
Especially what it feels like to be hurt and left alone
I enjoy what life brings me and I've learned that I'm capable
I've found my voice and I'm not afraid to be singled out
My head holds a crown that might be too heavy
But all my burdens are mistakes that paved a path towards my successes
I was a girl but now I am a woman
And to be honest, I love who I've become
Some people like me, some may be critical
But the only opinion that matters, is the one in the mirror
I like to laugh, I like to share, I like to listen to my friends
But most importantly I love to smile, even when it's difficult and everything is falling apart
Because in the midst of rainstorm always comes a rainbow
Soon after any day now, the sun will shine on my destiny
And the puzzle of life will still make no sense at all

She frolicked through trouble, and dandled with mischief. Alison Wonderland; everything I wished I was and so much more. Ever emanating her doe-eyed façade; proclaiming our jests mere “mischief.”
Yet, an unspoken verdict (Foretaste? Conception? Notion?) had cloaked the truth: wickedness rippled beneath our parade.
I nuzzled her contours; my peripheral eye – nailed to her profile, her blueprints, her chassis. I stalked her mirage – dancing with vapor.
She glissaded about, no fool to my truth, varnishing my mantle.
I belonged to Alison: perpetually at her side. Our couplet became a “we.” So, We regretted nothing. We veered for the pyre: caroming(skimming?) those embers alit with vice.
She narrated my mental seminar. Discarding my dogmas to uphold her own; and thus, my mind was hers.
My mind was her mind.
Alison made heads turn, and mouths water, as we sidled – hand in hand – down the street. She was my Christmas morning: each colloquium – giftwrapped with finesse. She personified paradise, she illustrated utopia. Hatching our Carnival; netting us, enamored, sidling the Carousal. We’d skim, we’d sail, her halo – my fossil. Her lips, her eyes, her hands… they echoed the innocence of a child. Niave, innocent, and giftwrapped in wonder.
Little Miss Wonderland: my very own fairytale. She was mine alone; she was mine to keep.
Did I want her, or did I want to be her?
Alison Wonderland.
Her aura – so celestial – paralleled my prose. When she banished my husk – Maple Thatcher – I cackled good riddance… And I grew a new personality to accommodate her own.
For, without Ali – devoid of our we – I doubted the very existence of me.
On my composition, she bestowed rhythm. She gave tune to my silence; her chimes, her cadence. My ink was her song – fusing a symphony. A symphony of Alison: the melody to solidify our tryst.
My mind was her mind.
And yet… somehow, I missed a carriage – or two – aboard her train of thought. For, the same felon spiting my existence, was the angel I loved to life. Gladly, I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew Maple down.
Fused against Alison, I needed none of Maple.
Carnival infatuations…

Alison Wonderland.

Day & night. The games you play. Taking advantage, knowing I'll stay.

Your sweet and warm, till your bored, and now your cold. You get rude, so very bold. I tell myself it's so old.
Conversations get rushed, you have excuses for excuses and become defensive. You point your fingers you think I'm distracted. Telling me how I over reacted.

My instinct has spoken time and time again. With the your silence, instinct is my friend.

I tell myself it's only a matter of time when I control the light, when I say it's night.

I'm sweet. I'm in love, but I'm not blind. I see you baby.

You see me small, blind, and so sweet. You see me, so you think.

Love is blind so they say, but that was me yesterday.

Now I sit and I wait.

Soon I'll say when, and it will be so. I'll be a new me, the one you don't know. I'll be the one you made with dishonesty.

I'll bide my time. I'll be prepared.
I may be broken even shattered, but you see what you want to see and I'm not me.
You see what you want to see and I'm not me.....

I went under the rainbows and through the rainstorms on a little pink cloud of hope
Everyone kept telling me it was useless and hopeless and such a big waste of time
But I followed my heart and bled on my blankets and even cried myself to sleep now and then
Crossing my fingers that something would happen and this wasn't just another mistake
I might have be wrong, now that I think of it
I might have been stupid for trying to reason with the unreasonable
I might have had false hope and impossible faith
But chasing after the magic of uncertainty was all part of the journey
I was innocent and a little niave at times
But there was something that kept me fascinated
I think it was the magnatude of self pity and lust
But after all this time, I still have no regrets
Some days I want to ask why and what happened?
But I'll never have closure I truly deserve
I guess thats part of the lessoned learned;
When you live for your love and your love does you wrong
When you keep on convincing yourself that its right
When you keep on swallowing your pride in the mirror
And you pretend like its perfect when its all such a disaster
I still can't be jaded when I'm a hopeless romantic in the heat of the night
When a stranger is a temptation and its difficult to keep at a comfortable distance
Because even though my ego was burnt and my heart hurt like hell
I still love with my soul and lead with my head
And not everyone's kindness is meant to wasted
And one day I'll be loved in return
And that love is worth all the burdens I carry
And one day, is getting closer by the minute

Its usually happens during the day,
I will catch myself laughing,
radiating genuine joy instead of the usual fraudulent happiness.
I'll feel the relief wash over me like a wave,
carrying away every dark thought i've ever had.
Leaving me feeling weightless and euphoric.
And in that brief moment
I can finally see the rays on sunlight
shining through the murkey waters of my mind.
I will be overwhelmed at the concept
to have finally made it.
To finally see the significant beauty of life
through untainted eyes.

Yet at 2am,
when the worlds asleep and i'm all alone.
The only company being
my bedroom walls.
The air will begin to thicken in my lungs,
and I will forget how to breathe.
The silence will scream at me as the empty
walls start to close in.
I will feel the numbness sink in,
and it will consume me,
as I let the tears fall begin to fall.

I will cry for myself,
and i'll cry for everyone I love.
I will cry for the ones who betrayed me,
and for all the people I have betrayed.
I will cry because there is nothing
I can do to stop the feeling of nothingness
and imense sadness hit me
in these early hours.
Tearing away my sanity with it's
claw like nails.


And only in the early hours
will I curse myself for being so niave,
foolish to think I could ever
escape my mind.
To think that I was ever ok.

Your fingers were rough and calloused
Always rough and calloused
Work was all you knew
Besides women and *****
***** and women
Your soft sad smile I remember well
And your smell
I could get high from the heavy mix of wood and paint
Your black hair slicked back
I loved when you took me to bars
You'd buy me an ice cream or some pop
Oh, those were the good ol' days
When you flirted with waitresses and bartenders alike
I was so niave
A blissful thing, to be a fool
A beautiful fool

To teenage dreams of love and wealth
To living life
Instead of breathing death

We are here for today,
Though too foolish to believe
That there is not always tomorrow,

You call us niave
For hoping for more
for caring
And walking into the world daring
it to take us down

We are young
We never belong
We hope
With  heads full of dreams
And  hearts full of promises

it's just that, you have a fine evening drinking
beer, watching cats and foxes,
and the frenzy of foxes on a monday night,
and these bin-bags,
  scattered once finely bound...
      it only begins with an aphorism,
and states: you ought to throw stone...
       thaat it would be safe enough to do such a thing...
you want to throw it, you're actually one
of the "herd",
  and how it will all make sense,
if you do throw the stone...
and join the riots...
     it would make sense,
it would actually make a lot of sense,
but, frankly, it doesn't...
             father crux, mind my son dangling
son... lo! behold! we're in business...
   how god chose the tribe of jews
and how jesus made judaism pop,
and how pop-judaism paid back a status of
pop culture, created a pop culture,
and was like huh? donning sunglasses...
and how it ended jn ash... and enforced cremation...
and Auschwitz holidays...
  yeah, sure, i'm the sick one...
who hold account of holocaust deniers
when i live in the 21st century with
existential deniers, that cat food tinned
speaks more to your, ******* *******?!
you want to vox? i'll vox... i'll ******* vox
the **** out of you,
i'll give you plums for eyes and human
rights for children you'll never, ever, have!
isn't that what we do, pretend to
eavesdrop on people?
pretend they don't exist, and if they do
they are involved in ghost media of fictions
and writing books for profit?
i just read heidegger's aphorism no. 195
and i just, think, of throwig stones...
  gladness be, a memory, that i share
with nobody...
   it's easier to abuse drinking...
i'm waiting for the blood skull and bits
to make testament...
   i think that if you get struck my lightning and die...
you won the lottery...
aphorism 195 is all about the will,
throwing, or scalping,
     something that is into: which is:
that conjunction word muddle,
beginning with that, and supposedly ending
with ergo...
           what moses felt,
and if ever: held account to have a heart...
just about as apathetic in tone
as an english-woman can be...
                 i heard prostitutes talk sweeter
things in my life...
      prostitutes... bulgar women,
ukranian women...
            british women talked the talk,
walked the walk...
   and then it was all or nothing...
that i am, a boor predicting a reality...
              but i can't help giving grace
to numbers, that they somehow have to be
coerced...
  of man, thus said, to complicate
the matters further...
   aphorism 195 is nothing but the modern
case of otherwise not throwing stones
at authority... a fortiori through Christianity...
i just look at it and see:
a bunch of kids throwing stones,
how's that going to work,
where's a justification of an "argument"?
it's that demand for Greece,
ancient, and so boringly quasi-kleptomaniac
in keeping it, and the yellow-brick road...
i already said a-, before saying
a priori; i meant to say: a-h (hence the hyphen
and a subsequent loss of ha),
so a beginning without a beginning...
like i will also state with a fortiori...
and i will also say: from a strength to a weakness...
or some would say: as foretold...
   it seems the strong are weaker than the weak...
just like the original case of aristocracy,
you need healthy people to rummage,
to make things work, and you need
a sickness at the top,
you always will provide the sick to rule the strong,
that's how humanity works, the sick rule
the strong... because the sick can
and the strong are ladden with a guilty plea of
stating empathy... it's just plain sad,
since they didn't encourage us waiting in line
to meet the guillotine... so who's who's Stockholm
syndrome bargain? the times i met death,
i'm surprised i didn't write a harry potter novel!
it's breaking my heart, and its almost numbing
my *****... i will recover having read
heidegger's aphorism 195 from ponderings ii - vi...
but it will take a while...
   it's going to be as hard as an actual
break-up... but i'll manage...
   real break-ups attract too many
bothersome gnats, known as fiction writers
and i don't won't these...
those ugly ******* can disperse and earn their money
and never return; or in Hindustan
as parasites, their worthy form to be repeated
and immersed in; guess what?
my **** is tickling, how about you **** it?
******.
and yes, punctuation is a different sort of
arithmetic... it's scenery, it's danish,
it's not custard thought, more of a mood setting,
but then again, the english,
bankers of the world; they don't really get
not needing to sell a twig,
when they can't appreciate a carpenter's effort
in having made a front-door...
   pragmatism doesn't really leave you
all sparkles like it's new year's eve... does it?
  neither does 1 + 1 = 2,
  or                 wait... nope, it isn't you.
language per se is no basis for being equipped with
a dichotomy to mathematics...
      rhetoric or rubric, it doesn't matter,
you spend so much time, complicating
the mathematical pucntuation marks,
that you leave actual punctuation marks to ducks,
that gobble them, as niave as they are,
glutton on mushy-pond-soaked-bread
as you do reminding us that politics is real...
    + is as complex as a comma...
                 hyphen is more than mere minus...
it's apparently called acting...
but you know, being a "poet" you sort of realise
you're not giving "adequate" prompt...
if ever, that's what the 20th century existentialists
did, they tried to reinvent punctuation,
to give punctuation the status of arithmetic...
after all... **** acting on stage gets a cabbage thrown
at it, yes? the times when theatre was no merely
and solely applause, when people threw rotten
fruit and veg and those emotional scumbags with
the audacity to fake it.

I'm drawing inspiration from the negative,
my attention biases towards certain phrases,
they leap out to me and I thought by now they'd be the ones to represent happiness and hope;

But still internal unrest is at the forefront,
And I still feel incongurance.

Because to relate to the positive I may as well take a syringe to a dry sponge,
I draw nothing but air,
but I guess at least im drawing now and that's progress.

But there's only so many times I can ventilate the same air without questioning,
why my head magnetises certain stimuli in a world so far from bare?

I can't explain, but to use optimism, hope, love and success as my muse feels unnatural, it's strained,
l am unworthy of it.

I let my mouth take the lead,
bypass my brain so I write how I feel, it flows without me.

And maybe its a Fruedian slip in the form of a sentence,
but im scared if I slip too far i'll drown and in my sponge I will suffocate.

So I speak without thinking let my brain take the stage and im back,
back circling the same topics again,
maybe in life I repress them and this is their escape I just dont know.

Because when I write about my excitement for the future or how I dont want to leave your arms or how you personify comfort I feel obnoxious,
 I feel niave
What is it about me that feels so uncomfortable,
so exposed,
so vulnerable,
to say i'm happy?

This is a story
A not so special love story
About a small town girl and a city boy

He was the good time
Life of the party
Mr. smooth talker suave'
She was the niave
backed in a corner
needing love type of thing

He talked to her
til the sun came up
They fell in love;
That's what they say
Well at least that's
how the story goes and
That's what she thought anyway

The nights were long that summer
She felt as strong as she could be
All they needed was one another
They thought it was forever
They thought it was forever

The years fly by
and the babies came
Struggles and lies
Slid their way in
Til late one night
It all began
Their house of cards
just caved in

Folks that's what happens
When you never talk
Such a sad ending
to what she thought
was real love

The nights were long that summer
She felt as strong as she could be
All they needed was one another
They thought it was forever
They thought it was forever

I tried.
I was as good as I could be.
We were best friends I thought.
We were friends but with some benefits.
I wasn't good enough and you left.
Everyone leaves but I honestly didn't think you would.
I guess I'm still niave.
I told you things that I wouldn't anyone else and you threw them away like our friendship.
I don't remember the last time we had a real conversation.
I don't remember you wanting to be my friend.
I miss you so much.
I tried but it wasn't enough.
I also think it has to do with her.
She's always hated me.
You're in love with her.
You always listen to her.
Did she tell you to leave me?
I just want to know why
Please tell me what I did wrong.
I miss you.
Come back to me.

You see you were very toxic
But I did not know.
You see I was very niave and innocent.
You were my everything and I was               completely madly in love.
You didn't feel the same apparently.
You left without saying goodbye.
I miss you.
I saw you everyday for a year but ignored you.
I finally got over you.
I don't miss you anymore.
I was done with getting hurt.
You came back.
You want me again.
You do the worst things to me.
I told you I wanted you again.
I don't and I'm lying to you about my feelings.
I'm not sure why, maybe I want to hurt you like you did me or maybe I just want you to be happy. Maybe I want to know what you felt like when you were doing it to me.
Or I could just be a heartless ***** because of what you did to me.
It's funny how the roles were reversed

I turned around
Found you hiding
You smirked slyly
Ask me to keep my lip zipped
You must've thought me niave
Without the smallest shield
Certainly no breastplate or
Sword of protection
You assumed me a helpless mess!
My only crime,
Assuming you were honest
Honesty was too high a price
For you could not afford the consequence!
After realizing my mistake I found my
Roots so deep
Planted into the richest soil
By a never ending stream
My trunk so thick
No longer can you sway me
I am immoveable
Steadfast
**Planted

My sun
A truly pure spirit, rinsed in blood of rebirth
Loved dearly, by the tribe , by the womben
Conscious of his right doings & his wrongs
Overstand that mistakes will be committed in the name of con
Light , let it radiate from you, as the presence of darkness surrounds you
May zonsetyo protect you, bless you, & be with you
Maker of history, like the great Makandal
Revolutionary, the lwa
Reincarnated
Sun, I know who you be

My mission to raise royalty
Spread knowledge
Master self & discipline
Power then will be achieved
There will be many doors
You
& Infinite keys

Do not be niave
& fall a victim to wishful thinking
Delusions are not reality --
Which is vast enough for infinity.

This is not to say don't dream, this is to say self evaluate & plan accordingly

You can be a rose in the concrete, have a spirit of will. You can be that revolutionary, that the powers that be are out to ****.

Zonsetyo be with you
Lwa be in you
All harm wished, will not be done
For the power of his light is equal to our sun

Ra
Ra
Ra

All that it touches, we can call home.
Radiating from your heart, a rolling wave
You are held to no limits.

Zonsetyo
Be with him
Zonsetyo
Live in him
Zonsetyo
Be light
Help him see
Zonsetyo
Be strong
Fight & defend
Zonsetyo
Affirm what has been written
Zonsetyo
Tell all evil, good riddance

Zonsetyo
Zonsetyo
I love you.

There was a time not long ago
When the air was hot and free
When my world was full
And flurished with simplicity

Tell me where my heart went
It left when the days became shorter
Maybe it is because I shed my skin
Maybe it is because I am older

Had it left with my morals?
Back when I truly believed?
Has *** pills joints and tabs
Made me less or more niave?

Tell me where my heart went
It ran when my eyes began seeing
I let it slip right through my fingers
And I mourn with every fiber in my being

The moon has lost its inspiration
But the nights still keep me up
- And I say to others and myself
Just let me live

I just want to live

Abusive father 
Molded my mentality
To think life is war
Shaped my dignity 
To stab my hope
Crumbling emotionally
Physically abusive
The chokehold you did to a door 
Stay on my neck for eternity
Abusive father...changed
Ha yeah right
My ignorance fueled the fire 
Of niave me
The toy gun you chased me with
Of noise to scare
The way you held yourself 
Egotistical menace 
May be called
You shrug it off
For you do as you please
Abusive father
Such a term no longer fitting 
As you massacred my stability
Believing death was so much easier
You say sorry
But your words are hollow
Took me 2 years to find someone
To finally give me stability 
The power to believe life is better than death
And you exile them
My topic of this poem may be written in rage
But to none other than you
Your denial lies pitiful 
As you wish me to return
You bribe a relationship with your kid
Solely you try to fill 
That of an empty bottle of apologises
You no longer 
No
Never by my side 
You terminate your existence among mine
As you see one I care for to be of **** of the earth
You don't look in the mirror often do you
You would see a source being of a human in front
Abusive father 10 years of torture ends here 
Your puppet be of free 
As your strings they fall to the floor
Walk the path as you may 
For it is your own 
But don't forget 
These words 
Abusive father 
You can not care for another 
If you don't care about the vessel
That souless vessel of despair 
Look into the mirror of humanity you will see
The man without dignity

Rose coloured glasses
Her outfit of choice
Designed by the experiences of her past

Seeing what she wanted to see
A little niave
An open book
For anyone to read

Her heart balanced on her shoulder
Though it weighed her down at times
A brain that rushed around with thoughts
Many she couldn’t explain

Often misunderstood
The glasses deceived her
When she finally took them off
It all made sense
The glasses were misleading
It wasn’t that intense

She is now aware
And her sight is now clear
Her heart and head work as one
No one can interfere