Fragile egg-shell mind on dawn’s highway bleeding the segue between times traversed only in momentary dreams or in enduring excursions

We drag our droll and quaint 60s baggage like the luggage of a safari made of concrete girding a cavernous expanse of unheralded ground

With our ears oriented to the floor, we leap out of body never to deplore….never to ignore….never to miss the blue bus of our drafted imaginations, so carefully culled from brash elitism

I trounce the intervening time between being friendless and an ironic end, and an irenic comrade becoming the dearest amazed but always aplomb friend

We simper in our glorious traversal, and though bedraggled through an ornamented cavern we linger just long enough to be celebrated

Then a blues riff emanates from a vapid bar, and finally someone heralds my exhumed memory still rusty with the pavement of encased concrete on an empty or full tomb

So I wander in my mind to that roughshod Paris glassy tincture a romanticized gild of proper sensibility crafted in the tongues of lizards emulating the tongues of serpentine Anglicans

As the power of love transcends the love of power, both are afforded serendipitously upon the stately occasion of a fitful revolt where heads literally rolled and deaths still unfurl from the slippage of a violent malevolent eternity, crafting a new creative way to expedite the smite of preventable scourge

So Jim, I see your picaresque side and your wide-eyed love for a listless ship anointed of a crystal blip just detectable long enough on RADAR to become the statistic to crack the slim WHIP

No wigs are needed at this formality, no figs grow from trees forty-five years buried and almost a full month unsung

Pitiable cretins of an invented insanity, they scoff at my ravenous and portentous heart for its excess and for aligning with an upstart verging on only a specious insanity

Why in all humanity could a month be mustered with every defense of history and yet for it to be so widely flouted as a risible exercise in futility

The irony that the artistic glamor of a past vogue becoming a revival that is often toked only to one song but never to the memorial of great cavernous and commodious imaginations, staggers with dismay where otherwise the mayday would be a disaster but still a great day

Then I look at a triggered-fingered omen of a death so ominous yet so brazenly confronted as the ambassadors of time provide plaudits to a fearless martyrdom

Why such a sad spate, why such a stringent but malevolent fate a malediction on a family whose crest is not crestfallen like rolling waves but ornamented with gravity impounding its own weight

A fugacious tomb, an eternal flame, a swan song announcing an independent authority on a prescient demise mashed and deprived

A single shot rippling through the broadened space between clasped eternity and a histrionic disgrace as a psychological confederate pays lip service to a reiterative applause

A cousin hardly American in a defected record of incendiary plumes of a hoarse hatred of waxen discs and flying discs alike,  climbs out of a bonfire mounted purely out of vindictive spite

Then upon a great white buffalo a wrapped package of Californian love before California ever alighted like something beyond an avaricious dove, saw a rocky park and a hearth of illuminated darkness the singular spark

Captain Morgan knows the jackknife applause of a botched deal morphing into a disbelieved spiel. A shibboleth of enormous mystical weight crashing down from an ethereal abode and heaven heavily saddened cannot hardly appeal

Then a loving spoonful of crystal blue persuasion led me to Ethel’s regimented keepsake and for once in my life nobility and I became a grateful waif. But temerity laughed, splintered spacecraft, and the wooden paws of a bearish applause led to resurgent clarity

Blinking stars shattered by knighted and raw applause punctured the liberated might of a sentient hortatory savior grasped by the internecine wrench of a waxen time

An indie track slides by unnoticed in an aleatory time, and the threadbare whine of centuries of lament becomes a dastardly barn set ablaze with the fury of ancients and the scurry of faineant patents

Perfidy slides in recess, and in gentle forbearance the winged angel lingers like a halo on conifer and spring above a remedial ring

I dial frisky celerity tingling the dangling claws of a raven’s screed and in plunder of all history’s pilfer secrets I eagerly weave a tapestry Indiana Jones himself would be proud to watch

Not the riotous ruin of a mystery tour of verdure crippled by genocide but overcome by the revived life of raised rain razing the moments of indelible pain

But the culmination of a proffered time taken at its word for its every careened bird, for its every brazen gird. The manger of proctored stars calls us home tonight and home forever. Life in quaked timorous stumbles suddenly no longer so fitfully absurd.

The quixotic plundered of pirates and emperors in direct emulation of some crooned pastiche of whittled integrity, surges above any encased blurb and any vain testament to a pyramid rigid in destiny and ragged in desultory and sturdy sincerity

Multiplying the ineffable by the division of arable divorced from edible is too creative to be eaten as pabulum when sparks curdle flickered moonlight crimson and that become golden only to the last laugh of ennobled ragamuffins

Frankly the desert of melliferous gorillas abetting the lark of a heavily vetted camarilla engaged in the sinecure of a rigged wall on a main street to block the tall from the lame bleat. Stocks grazed, costs engaged on a littoral beach at the end of a Bossy promenade

This prayer is a cutthroat collapse of a merry spare, a ribbed ****** waiting to plunge into the antithesis of female despair, but sincere in its restraint that vixens courted in love aren’t courted in litigation of a wagered dare

Ambulances chase Deloreans through the desolate moon-stricken skies of a time agape with fleets of phantasmagoria on a Cliffside too wise to ever mince words or excise cries

Skulking the red-teared caverns of entombed films and lampooned tinctures on a passion vetted only for certain and utter deracinated disguise, I wallop with winged men in a single soul armed to the teeth with inveterate tithes to eternal internments of poached and endangered gazettes

As growth older in wizened skin bets on epithets rather than epitaphs for rinsed peace and triumphant clefts we leap above in orbit of only the bellowing nether of blown tolls and untold souls aggregating the esoteric grasp of Alexandrian tomes

The denumeration of certainty is a carousel of wonder, a splurge of time ripped asunder with majesties of paparazzi scuttled impacts a throttled iniquity of regalia’s indicted blunder frenchified but still clean with inestimable sheens

With twenty-five dollars, a dime an assist and a nickeled reiteration of currency already so personable it is divine and sublime in crazed desist I watch the embroiled natives clash in denatured violence with the warriors of a crossed repast hearkening to an old land much of ire but too much of grandstand to ultimately last

Itching for a holy field husk of peerless ties listed as rumpus and beer, a two-packed smoked by bludgeoned blokes careless in irascible sputters of a muffled doom, a Vegan becomes the author of too many sacrosanct homilies becoming defiled witchcraft brooms dead on arrival too many lionized tombs

In plaudits and the scause of an amplified “what if?” of an olfactory nightmare of petrified fog of effluvium bogged in Wade and in heat it is always clogged, sinewy libations of toasted preemptive revenge become a powerballed hog

A castle in the sky founded on Franklin but scourged of wineskins brimming with a distilled time, a swift repartee becomes the whispered ladder of saints blather becoming not rather other than a Dan Rather spatter

A door breeched by a broached inconvenience of amphigory beyond common reach, I clamber excess and whisk the lingered love into destiny beyond any word other than a beseeched preach of nothing tired but everything inspired of noble love with abundance often to teach

Fireworks of turned tides of fallow tithes to aliens beyond any conceivable bribe the bushwhacker writhes but survives staying alive without even a hint of garbled jive a 27th floor glass elevator is quite a resplendent ride

Wellsprings knowing radical rolled tides of errant dice also themselves guilty of confessional tithes to the monolith of avarice at the nooked cranny of an evaporated time we whine as the police sting the album rained with songs too lugubrious to sing but in their elegy every lonely heart has a propinquity phone of souled resonance ring

Iterative mastery of a mathematics of love, loss decay and the dross of a dental Occidental floss, the sweep of screened queues become questions of inestimable importance to foreign dues on a horse with no name but so consumed with fumes

A fright occultist thriller prowls in a waylaying daylight, masquerading an innocent confection for a rescued triage of a dawn stabbed with knives in our last dying days of trembled plight

He resurrects only the wraiths of detest, squinted at by the putrefaction of summoned cardiac arrest and littered with bullets that somehow can penetrate even impregnable bullet proof vests the wrapped carcass of the mummified husk of ready despair offers itself a ghoulish and raspy prayer

Synchronized in a low roaring swathe of rollercoasters too immersive to ride, the terpsichorean obscurantism of deliberately shattered fragments becoming blurbs dismissed with hijacked deride the carnival of a summer sun becomes the ocean of limitless love becoming endless fun

We forget the drawl of the droll old tales that haunt like specters in the closet and beneath the bedridden valetudinarian of an effrontery of shackled fright, we sprawl the innumerable caverns of prophetic insight afforded by the pantheon of history enter stage left, depart stage right

And with their insight I write and write, I grasp the tusk of democracy and wage an insurrection against the doubt of plodding limitations in otherwise immaculate sight

*** and tyrannosaurus rex, of litigable offenses leading to pardonable arrests, the gated entryway of a poetic splurge leads to the demiurge of a demotic enlightenment and suddenly the frank becomes the frazzled retirement and that haunting hounding bunny transmogrified by a shattered eye averts the car crash that careens ponderous engines out of limitless twilight blue skies.

Diamond lightning in pristine skies escorts the telegraphic totems of riddled modems from 1967 to 2016 and suddenly all venerable personages converge on a teeming scene of a union unified by a universal dream. To become everything and yet nothing and out of light and darkness to become a beatific beam

This is America for Petes sake

Black lives don’t matter here

They say they’re being treated unfair

But they’re the one’s drinking up all the welfare

And we even pay for their health care

Poor black folk shouting black lives matter

But they don’t matter

The only thing that matters is the fat cats getting fatter

Build a school or a jail?

In a place like Baltimore, those black kids are already bound to fail

Let’s not forget from whence we hail

We came from abroad to build this house

This was never meant to be a game of cat and mouse

They don’t know their power, so they will never see their hour

Cause you see white people are only safe when those animals scared

White people are only safe when white people are feared

When black people are teared, and on their face is smeared the blood of their ancestors, on the altar that is prepared

The altar that was broken down when we ended Jim Crow

Since then look how low our country did go

But at last at last now again we can make America great

Now again we can end any debate , about what it means to be free

Cause when Trump is in charge I’ll tell you, you won’t tell me

When Trump is President you'll put your hand over your heart for the anthem, not take a knee

When Trump is President, You’ll be satisfied , you’ll lower your fist and you’ll be

You’ll be gratified, you’ll shut your mouth and watch your people die

You’ll watch them bleed like Alton Sterling,

You’ll stand there you’ll cry

And then you’ll wonder why,

why does the color of your skin decide whether or not you win

As you kneel before me thinking about your next of kin,

ready to feel these bullets in your body as your reality sets in

This country was never your own

We brought you here as slaves, you call out for a savior but

Abraham Lincoln is dead so you can put down the phone

Martin Luther King is dead so you can put down the phone

Malcom X is dead, you see,now you’re all alone

We’ve infiltrated your culture and now that seed has grown

As we watch you destroy each other and continue to postpone anything that looks like freedom

Cause you see freedom isnt free

We gained ours in 1776

Your ancestors were still in chains but here today you celebrate with me

Thinking that you’re free

But you will never be free

Harriet Tubman freed a thousand slaves

And she could've freed a thousand more but they were cheering for Trump in his rallies

Because they can’t grasp what it means to be free

And that mere truth is the key

So we won’t say their names

We won’t feel their pains

Cause this is the United States of America , and white is right, we still hold the reigns

I

What new element before us unborn in nature? Is there
        a new thing under the Sun?
At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic, detonative,
        Scientific theme
First penned unmindful by Doctor Seaborg with poison-
        ous hand, named for Death's planet through the
        sea beyond Uranus
whose chthonic ore fathers this magma-teared Lord of
        Hades, Sire of avenging Furies, billionaire Hell-
        King worshipped once
with black sheep throats cut, priests's face averted from
        underground mysteries in single temple at Eleusis,
Spring-green Persephone nuptialed to his inevitable
        Shade, Demeter mother of asphodel weeping dew,
her daughter stored in salty caverns under white snow,
        black hail, grey winter rain or Polar ice, immemor-
        able seasons before
Fish flew in Heaven, before a Ram died by the starry
        bush, before the Bull stamped sky and earth
or Twins inscribed their memories in clay or Crab'd
        flood
washed memory from the skull, or Lion sniffed the
        lilac breeze in Eden--
Before the Great Year began turning its twelve signs,
        ere constellations wheeled for twenty-four thousand
        sunny years
slowly round their axis in Sagittarius, one hundred
        sixty-seven thousand times returning to this night

Radioactive Nemesis were you there at the beginning
        black dumb tongueless unsmelling blast of Disil-
        lusion?
I manifest your Baptismal Word after four billion years
I guess your birthday in Earthling Night, I salute your
        dreadful presence last majestic as the Gods,
Sabaot, Jehova, Astapheus, Adonaeus, Elohim, Iao,
        Ialdabaoth, Aeon from Aeon born ignorant in an
        Abyss of Light,
Sophia's reflections glittering thoughtful galaxies, whirl-
        pools of starspume silver-thin as hairs of Einstein!
Father Whitman I celebrate a matter that renders Self
        oblivion!
Grand Subject that annihilates inky hands & pages'
        prayers, old orators' inspired Immortalities,
I begin your chant, openmouthed exhaling into spacious
        sky over silent mills at Hanford, Savannah River,
        Rocky Flats, Pantex, Burlington, Albuquerque
I yell thru Washington, South Carolina, Colorado,
        Texas, Iowa, New Mexico,
Where nuclear reactors creat a new Thing under the
        Sun, where Rockwell war-plants fabricate this death
        stuff trigger in nitrogen baths,
Hanger-Silas Mason assembles the terrified weapon
        secret by ten thousands, & where Manzano Moun-
        tain boasts to store
its dreadful decay through two hundred forty millenia
        while our Galaxy spirals around its nebulous core.
I enter your secret places with my mind, I speak with
        your presence, I roar your Lion Roar with mortal
        mouth.
One microgram inspired to one lung, ten pounds of
        heavy metal dust adrift slow motion over grey
        Alps
the breadth of the planet, how long before your radiance
        speeds blight and death to sentient beings?
Enter my body or not I carol my spirit inside you,
        Unnaproachable Weight,
O heavy heavy Element awakened I vocalize your con-
        sciousness to six worlds
I chant your absolute Vanity.  Yeah monster of Anger
        birthed in fear O most
Ignorant matter ever created unnatural to Earth! Delusion
        of metal empires!
Destroyer of lying Scientists! Devourer of covetous
        Generals, Incinerator of Armies & Melter of Wars!
Judgement of judgements, Divine Wind over vengeful
        nations, Molester of Presidents, Death-Scandal of
        Capital politics! Ah civilizations stupidly indus-
        trious!
Canker-Hex on multitudes learned or illiterate! Manu-
        factured Spectre of human reason! O solidified
        imago of practicioner in Black Arts
I dare your reality, I challenge your very being! I
        publish your cause and effect!
I turn the wheel of Mind on your three hundred tons!
        Your name enters mankind's ear! I embody your
        ultimate powers!
My oratory advances on your vaunted Mystery! This
        breath dispels your braggart fears! I sing your
        form at last
behind your concrete & iron walls inside your fortress
        of rubber & translucent silicon shields in filtered
        cabinets and baths of lathe oil,
My voice resounds through robot glove boxes & ignot
        cans and echoes in electric vaults inert of atmo-
        sphere,
I enter with spirit out loud into your fuel rod drums
        underground on soundless thrones and beds of
        lead
O density! This weightless anthem trumpets transcendent
        through hidden chambers and breaks through
        iron doors into the Infernal Room!
Over your dreadful vibration this measured harmony        
        floats audible, these jubilant tones are honey and
        milk and wine-sweet water
Poured on the stone black floor, these syllables are
        barley groats I scatter on the Reactor's core,
I call your name with hollow vowels, I psalm your Fate
        close by, my breath near deathless ever at your
        side
to Spell your destiny, I set this verse prophetic on your
        mausoleum walls to seal you up Eternally with
        Diamond Truth!  O doomed Plutonium.

                        II

The Bar surveys Plutonian history from midnight
        lit with Mercury Vapor streetlamps till in dawn's
        early light
he contemplates a tranquil politic spaced out between
        Nations' thought-forms proliferating bureaucratic
& horrific arm'd, Satanic industries projected sudden
        with Five Hundred Billion Dollar Strength
around the world same time this text is set in Boulder,
        Colorado before front range of Rocky Mountains
twelve miles north of Rocky Flats Nuclear Facility in
        United States of North America, Western Hemi-
        sphere
of planet Earth six months and fourteen days around
        our Solar System in a Spiral Galaxy
the local year after Dominion of the last God nineteen
        hundred seventy eight
Completed as yellow hazed dawn clouds brighten East,
        Denver city white below
Blue sky transparent rising empty deep & spacious to a
        morning star high over the balcony
above some autos sat with wheels to curb downhill
        from Flatiron's jagged pine ridge,
sunlit mountain meadows sloped to rust-red sandstone
        cliffs above brick townhouse roofs
as sparrows waked whistling through Marine Street's
        summer green leafed trees.

                        III
                        
This ode to you O Poets and Orators to come, you
        father Whitman as I join your side, you Congress
        and American people,
you present meditators, spiritual friends & teachers,
        you O Master of the Diamond Arts,
Take this wheel of syllables in hand, these vowels and
        consonants to breath's end
take this inhalation of black poison to your heart, breath
        out this blessing from your breast on our creation
forests cities oceans deserts rocky flats and mountains
        in the Ten Directions pacify with exhalation,
enrich this Plutonian Ode to explode its empty thunder
        through earthen thought-worlds
Magnetize this howl with heartless compassion, destroy
        this mountain of Plutonium with ordinary mind
        and body speech,
thus empower this Mind-guard spirit gone out, gone
        out, gone beyond, gone beyond me, Wake space,
        so Ah!
        
                                        July 14, 1978

Love is all he knows,
Like doves, he reeps what he cannot sow,
Completely seeping where you cannot go,
Secretly creeping on his toes,
And there it goes,

Waking up a stranger to the morning sun,.
After shaking from danger,

He cannot live without her his heart speaks out in anger,
She's the last out, to give what they were, from back in the start, for' she sneaked around,
Turned his whole world upside down,
He grabs the gun and preys his last prayers, she stabbed his heart, and it teared and teared,
Life's not fair life's not fair, the underkeeper gloomed,
The gun killed today, and a love much steeper bloomed.

By: Cedric McClester

I got a knock at the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act

Their presence here
Confirmed my worst fear
Now I'm bein told
What I don't wanna hear
I just got his letter yesterday
Now they're here to say
That he passed away

I got a knock on the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act

It's not easy
To lose a loved one
Yet so many daughters
And so many sons
Have been sacrificed
In an illegal war
It's beyond the point
Where we can ignore

I got a knock at the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act

See I'm not naive
So I don't believe
That a true victory
Can be achieved
In a war where the enemy
Can't be defined
And suicide bombing
Hasn't declined

It's not easy
To lose a loved one
Yet so many daughters
And so many sons
Have been sacrificed
In an illegal war
It's beyond the point
Where we can ignore

I got a knock at the door
That no one wants to get
My eyes teared up
And my hands began to sweat
They were there to tell me
About the attack
And how my son died
From that tragic act


Copyright (c) 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

Written on 11/20/2017

That awkward moment when someone flirts with you on a dating app and says "I like that you look masculine."

You see,
I never saw masculinity as a part of me.

My identity was always flamboyant,
wearing pink shirts and sashes,
crop tops with styling gelled eyelashes,
sparkling headbands and dazzling bandannas,
snapback hats featuring giant bananas,
I dressed with the raging flamboyance of flamingos!
Sporting a certain type of femininity that only a gay man knows.

All the trimming and cutting, and shaving and nairing,
for hours,
as time and body hair intertwined in the showers,
washed masculinity off my body down the drain,
Experienced electrolysis burns, but the pain
had infected my thoughts,
like each hair is unnatural.  

Purge it all,
Scorch and torch it all,
Leave nothing at all!
No trace
of evolution's flawed attempt to grace
me with an adaptive advantage to take on the world's harsh climate.  
I admit,
this hair entangles me and strangles me,
it also oozes out of me like pimples from a pore,
a ***** to testosterone,
poor me - a victim of nature's masculinity.
What a hairy situation I've gotten myself in.

--

Femininity.
Its bestowed upon me by society.
When I sashay or say hey gurl hey,
society recognizes these things as girly and gay,
not a very masculine way to walk or talk.  

Stereotypes about *** and gender are so easily manipulated.
Like a circus performer on the tight rope,
the suspense keeps people wondering where will I fall?

But hold me under a microscope and you will see it all,
a million molecules that makeup my femininity.
I wear skinny jeans and tank tops,
then get complimented on them by dude bros,
like yo that's tight- where'd you get it boss?

I bought it in the girl's section at Ross.

My toe nails painted and displayed for public view,
flip flops emboldened with matching turquoise hues,
Femininity is worn on me like a fabulous armor plate.

--

Fast forward to a fateful date during No-Shave November.
I remember,
growing out my ****** hair for the very first time,
I wore it like a mask,
portraying a fictional character who was masc-uline.
Bathing in manliness at this masquerade.
It was through this charade,
that I grew
... temporary happiness for me from all of you.

The compliments they poured in.
My once smooth canvas of a face,
waiting to be crafted into the Mona Lisa,
had been turned into an artistic masterpiece,
'Gay Man with Amnesia',
of who he used to be.
A painting of someone society wanted,
someone whose masculinity was outwardly flaunted.
But inside, I felt taunted,
each time they complimented
me and my newfound masculinity.

--

Then, it happened on Grindr,
a gay dating app.
This masculine mishap.

A stranger's message read, "I like that you look masculine."
It sounded even stranger in my head.
Their profile description read,

"Masc 4 Masc
Masculine man seeking other masculine men to hangout with."

That's when I felt it.
My mask had made me masc.

This particularly manic morning brought me to ask
myself in the bathroom mirror,
"Who the hell am I looking at?"

In sheer terror, I teared-up,
scanned the portrait of 'Gay Man with Amnesia',
and then decided to tear it up!

I grabbed my electric razor,
grum grum grummm
as these blades grazed my face and chin,
I was offered sweet, soft, porcelain skin - my absolution.

pause

heh heh
When I came to and snapped out of the amnesia,
eager to see results of this restorative procedure,
the mirror was fogged with steam and slop.

I tried logging in to my laptop's webcam,  
for naught.  
The ****** recognition feature -- didn't recognize me
... but finally, I did.

Once again, I see the man behind the masc-ulinity.

I ate hot meals,
I brushed my teeth day and night,
I spent long hours on the mobile
with friends,
I wore well laundered clothings,
Not a single crease or a stain on them,
Before motherhood.
My home was ***** and span,
No stumbling on scattered toys,
No ***** window panes,
No tiny hands holding my skirts,
No one  eagerly waiting for me on the doorsteps,
No spits,pukes, pees or poos to clean,
No teared  eyes to wipe,
No tiny bundle to hold in my arms,
Getting love,warmth and satisfaction in return,
Before motherhood.
I was in control of myself,
Of my mind and thoughts,
Caretaker of my own body,
Spending hours to enhance my beauty,
To maintain grace and elegance,
Before motherhood.
Now I am a mum,
I don't mind if my hair is disheveled,
My house is a bit messy,
I am exhausted,
For the reward of a hug, a kiss
and those endearing words,"I
love you mum,you are the bestest." completes me.

He's the boy with messy blonde hair and emerald eyes;
the kind that can make you blind after some time.
I wish I had known that before I made space for him
on the shelf I call my heart.
His hands were strong, yet gentle,
and they traced every curve
without leaving a mark.

I'm the girl with obviously styled hair, and brown eyes;
in time's company I'm a stranger -so I must always try
to look my best even when I want to cry.

I found myself holding this novel of a boy in my hands,
and quickly much too quickly fell into the pages;
excitement tore the corner of the sheet,
a scar formed on his nose,
and I joked with him
you can't forget me because I've made my mark.

But behind every light giggle there is a truth;
behind every highlighted sentence there is reason.

Here I am physically unscarred by this boy with emerald eyes,
but each night I find myself wondering why he left without a goodbye.
I could only hope that if I was unable to leave an impression
that maybe he will come across the bookmarked page,
the teared sheet and remember me.

(NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.

The Grump put on his morning face.
Wiped away crystallised grit ,
Straight out of her teared up eyes.
My goodness this poem is shaped out of ****!
A deliberate ploy,

For she is woman, and he is boy.
He had a *** change,
Normally grumpy is male, hee hee,
Today grumpy is me.

The last Sunday of a somewhat sulky year.
Look deep in my eyes and surely you'll see a tear.
I don't cry.....
Why ever should I ?
Mentally strong as a freaking ox,
Manipulative as a silver fox.
A wicked sense of humour.
Thank f**k ,
Without that I'd probably have no luck,
Not out on the pull.
That just isn't cool.
Ladies don't.
This lady can't be bothered!
(C) Livvi

Read me your favorite book in the dark, as our bodies touch.
let me feel your thoughts, your fears just as they linger off your lips as you read the words off the page.
In that spilt of a second, Hit me with a silence and deep stare, as I grasp for my breath
Tears the clothes off my body just as you teared into my mind,
Let's sit in the dark, let's share, let's feel.
Read me your favorite book and compare me to daisies.

Lying, yellow lamp light illuminated the baron broadway.
Fear beginning to break through thought, fighting for freedom from intention.
“Be afraid”.
“Be very afraid”.
He stayed, splayed
on hard road looking peaceful in that white night.
Calling to the angels with snow.
“NO! Be afraid”.
“NO! Be very afraid I said”.
His mind was already made, he stayed splayed.
Weeping, wishing, waiting he welcomed what was to come.
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
“RUN!!”
But he was done, finished with the world.
Thought and fear swirled inside; whirlpools of midnight black carried him on tormented tides, torturing his mind.
Is this his time ?
Is this his time ?
Continue on ? and when they ask he’ll just say that he is fine.
Joke and laugh and long inside for things he’ll never find.
These were the thoughts that toiled in his mind, teetering on the edge, shears ready to cut thread.
Laying there....
Staying there as headlight begun to blind.
Feelings, thoughts and life its self bursting from there binds.
Faster, closer, louder. No one sees the signs and no one cares: pain so great it can’t be beared, hurt so deep it can’t be shared, pain that teared and teared and teared. Breaking will, it never stills, pain that built and built and built.
He just wants it to cease,
he just wants peace!.
He could smell it now, petrol in the air.
Hear the wind, see the light, his fear gave up the fight.
The engines roar, so loud that it silenced his mind.
The light got closer.
The light got closer, so many things not done, so many things unsaid.
And then....
he was starring at the moon as car and light and noise passed him over head.
He wasn’t.... Dead.
He wasn’t dead.

There are some who have that inner peace
Though everything around them is just
Tearing up, falling apart, crumbling down

But sometimes, their hearts are tossed about
Like it was caught in a raging storm
With no evident reason
Nothing but blind
Teared up emotion

Have you ever tried running away,
From Yourself?
Like your being, wants to run
Away from this body that restrains it
Like a time out,
Like I want a little space
A little time away
From all physical constraints

Well, you can’t
But you can run
Run until you’re ready

To face yourself
Stop splitting your mind
Take up your burdens
Calm your heart


But yet

You paint your screams across pages
With paint, words, motions
They’re all the same
But of what?
Agony? Frustration? Anguish?

You’re laughing through tears
Confused? Battered? Restless?
Your mind’s a mess
And you grip onto your sanity
Laughing hysterically

But at the end of it all
You take a step back
Yet you don’t quite realize

Some things are an illusion
Especially feelings, emotions
They tend to take over you quite a bit
They overwhelm you

And you,
You’re holding yourself together
Like you’re gonna burst any moment
Into confetti
Just a bunch of paper flying around

But that’s alright
It’s just your mind messing up with you

And one day you get over it
You’re just done with it
But yet, it’s part of you
That you’re laughing at

Just a stepping stone
Just to find yourself
Home. And stronger.

He choked me until I went under the other day
And oh my god it felt so great
My eyes teared up and my mind went dark
And oh how I wanted him to keep going

Is this how rope would feel too?
I mean surely it would yield the same affect except much faster

If so death would be so easy
Death would feel so good
Death would take 30 seconds of pure pleasure

**** falling to the break of my bones and drowning in the ***** water of my passed
I want to be cut off from the poison that is oxygen
I want salvation at last

I can't do it now because I love you
But please oh please do it again
I'll practice with you for what will happen after you get bored and leave

I have no fear of death
None what so ever
******* thank you darling I love you so much

This tears on my ****** skin
Tears from your ****** sins
Tear from the words that won’t leave my mind.
Tears from what lies behind.

Deep cuts from within
Deep cuts on my skin
Deep cuts down my wrist
Life is so brisk
I like the risk.

They say "sticks and stones may break my bones"
But their the ones who always had homes.
"Words will never hurt me"
So why won’t those words stop replaying in my head and let me be.

Deep cuts on my thighs
Deep cuts from your lies
Cuts from what Ive realized
People are evil in my eyes

Your words teared my heart; and I my skin. It’s the only thing that alleviates the pain.
I felt it cut into my soul.
I reflect what you have said; your sins on my skin.

I am at a crescendo of this mercurially
fervent woe, maimed by the visage of
smoke and mirrors;
"a death in chrysalis is to live once again."

Draping into the worn out disheveled
silk, beautifully withered
lulled by the sound of riverbanks
as if it's pacifying the feral.

A star-lit eyes deluged with bliss
rose with thorn-teared flesh
overwhelmed by a mawkish melancholia. Although we were haunted by our old love, it will never be the same.

1) Your eyes killed me without mercy

2) Your lips made me an addict

3) My heart keeps gossiping about you all the time

4) Since I saw you, I forgot the rest

5)  You stole my heart and hid it

6) You merged with my soul and I don't know who I am anymore

7) You occupy my imagination all the time

9) You jailed me waiting for your answer

10) You teared my eyes when they thought they were not going to see you again

Your sins are forgiven if you say* ...

**"I love you"

just know,
        light footed boy
                     faint hearted girl,
glory morning dew
teared umbrella

bristling in the
fierce passion erupting like piano keys
          ignited by the spark
          of shared candles

dotting the palaces
         our maddening pursuit
                     love
                                      
                                           the soreness bristling
                                                on the bottom of my feet  
         my coarse voice
         and tired windpipes

                                                                                     my love for you ceased,
                                                                                        teared by the ricochet
                                                                                    of my failed daydreams

Do you see that old man
filthy and wrinkled on the street
he's a statue where the feet often steps
and yet his soul never did leave

Do you see that young lady
Pained and teared in her heart
sitting by the lonely bench
her eyes teary, staring at the sun

Have you seen that small child
cold and starved by his fate
drinking water despite its filthiness
smiling despite the cruelty of the world

How many unspoken words are there
roaming around in the thin air
knowing how large the world is
Yet the love is so small, so rare

Knowing how heartless people can be
knowing that their beloved ones left
and yet they wore shades of smile
With their unspoken words behind everything else

I know what it’s like to be heartbroken too

it feels like a bomb

like the flowers that have been eaten alive by aphids

always sitting with you, uncomfortable,

a notch tighter on your belt loop after a heavy meal

or someone taking an unflattering picture of you and posting it all over the internet

you are ugly to yourself now,
and quiet because of it

I lost my clarity after I ran up the hill and rolled down it, clumsily with joy

it must have fallen out of my pocket or dripped out of my eye sockets
as they teared up from the pollen

I ask myself

what is true?

but it’s harder here, when I can’t be certain if there’s a ghost hanging around in my frontal lobe or if it’s just the pulsating fear of being kicked to the curb

that’s what being heartbroken is like -

always feeling like you’re being kicked to the curb for no good reason

it’s like,
what’s the point of getting up in the morning? I’ll make breakfast and then somebody will hurt me again

the point is
learning how to decipher the difference between apathy and acceptance

you’ll get there

redemption doesn’t count or feel at all rewarding if everything is easy

i never thought remembering
would burn this much, nor that it would consume my sleep at night.
I remember how happy and sentimental
cute clingy songs made me feel, because my pathetic heart felt every lyric.
I now find myself skipping those songs because they remind me the pain of you. That last taste of your lips that used to give me comfort, but none of it was real. How could you sit there, look me in my teared up eyes and lie to my face? I wonder how many times you touched me, kissed me knowing **** well you did not love me anymore, these questions torment me on my daily basis. Therefore I keep myself busy to distract my thoughts from you,
I can heal all i want, but how do i get this feeling of betrayal off my skin? I find it very ironic how you used to blame me for the sins you were comitting. Broken promises and blood spilling, but you're perfectly fine.
That's such a *******.
These memories became a wound on my soul and you my stabber but i gave you the dagger, i regret you all the time. We became a tainted memory id like to fully erase from my being.

heavy lids yearn to
erase last nights hurt.
i struggle to smile real.

candid malice, besieging
drained by lucrative ignorance
frustration staining teared windows
the hole leaks with pure essence
once where the heart stood, emptiness retains resolve
desolation sets in
she calls, in the mind..
passion begets strife
i walk on