Learn that word; verbose fool!

You said cyberlove sounded a lil pathtic....I agreed. In retrospect, I see a beautiful modern day romance akin to those of the days of the pony Express where young lovers penned love letters for years before seeing each other....I'll wait for you forever.

Broke my own rule......put it on paper so only the receiver can get the message

Fight and promote your useless ******* agendas on your poems not mine.... enough. Please

I love the way the Brits speak
Love the way my curiosity she peaks.
I love people of all shapes, colors and sizes...tall short black white brown thin fat...  Their inside is what I look at.
I love that you wage the same war I do.....sometimes life is black other times blue.
I love that you want to learn how to fish....but I promise I'll always cook your favorite dish.
I love that you love Tiramisu.....it means the same thing I want to mean to you.
I love that you're willing to take your heels off so we can dance....there's no need to my love I'm stuck in this trance.
I love that you're you and never ever want your journey to be black or blue.
I love YOU!

Figured it out!

I'm sorry HP...I don't want to talk to anyone at all..

Remember the name
they'll be considered the same.
Two centuries apart but
both just as smart
at playing the poetry game

I might be Poe reincarnate....
Who knows we share similar traits:

Impossible to muzzle
For us poems are puzzles

To be solved by
the reader's resolve

I could go on for days
telling you how we're the same

but only time will tell if the history books will, like his, remember my name.

With this poem you should see another secret bout me if you're highly observant and a vigilent sleuth, this poem holds another clue that's the truth.

If ya didn't catch Poe (M.A.)
try Poe (M.B.) because
this is not po' Poe's poetry.  It's just ANu poet trying not to be Poe but me.

A poet wants to be read but I don't care if I commit literary suicide for expressing my views that's my right

You may not agree but I'm sorry that's me and I'll keep writing til the day I die.

I may not be as eloquent or refined as many writers I know...I let my pencil flow wherever it goes.  

Sometimes it's street smack sometimes high brow... I'll write about shadows and sunsets,  demons and cows.  

Enigmatic persona pours onto the page.  With no style or language or structured restraint.  

My works runs the gamut I get bored with the same.  I write what I feel in the moment it came.

If you dig it that's cool if you don't, no complaints

Is not always nice...as much as it could sing of love it should also scream of hate.  It should make one laugh...and also want to die.  I'll not put the real me in separate compartments to hide and show as I please. This and truth are who I and that's enough for me.

Nope not better than Poe
try as I may not to mope
I don't even compare....
I might be a bishop but he's
definitely the Pope

Ah Po' me trying to pen poems like Poe writes to right poetry
from the likes of poured me
who sweats thru his pores to pour out his soul, and try out ANu poesi

Dis Po' ol'boy is rich as can be!!!....yessir !!! gots me a tribillion words at my 'sposal anytime I wants em o be.

I'm waiting on a letter to tell me things are better....but i fear the horse and rider are lost in the hills of my imagination.  
Climbing attempting to reach high ground to touch the light. So many stars too dark to see too bright.
Sleep my philly, I'll have a nap.  Too lit to cross the River.  Tomorrow we'll see better regain our sight.... daytime is never quit as bright as the matins' starry night

¡Mirá las gambas de esa mina!  ¡Que boludo que sos!

Bajaría la luna, las estrellas y el sol ......ahogarlos en el mar. Para ojalá a tu lado siempre estar.

Introducing Picasso and Nunez aka ANu Picasso a pair of L.A. poets and painters coming to a gallery near you.  

Our first big gig will be at the Nuetra Gallery and Museum on Glendale Blvd. in Silver Lake coming up in September.

Come check out East and West Balanced, it will surely be an art show you'll always remember.  

Curated and coordinated by the one and only, Dulce Stein, Dulcepalloza 2018 guarantees a good time.

Just another ditty on who we are, this is a poem my partner Picasso put out:

BALANCED

He is the torch
I am the white
He is the dark
I am the light
We don't impress
   to be blessed.
We're blessed
   to impress
Hate us or love us
But don't love to hate us
We're the Ying and
the Yang of this Earth
Both with the
same day of birth
He is the east
and I am the west
But together we're
simply the best.

Lord above....wake her from her slumber so that my heart's heart can rest and fling me from her chest.

Dime primacho.... cuántos son y qué hay que hacer.

My mind has evolved ever since I read your words.

I think in poems,
drink deep sounds,
smell bright colors,
untie the bound.

I touch the notes...
they ripple in the air.
Taste the pain .....
no qualms no care.

I orchestrate a silent fugue,
two voices never heard.
Pen it all inside my book
then read it to my bird.

When ya chowder do you really worry about where it falls if ya need to heave so bad?  You may clean the porcelain and have your idolatrine to maintain stain unseen...but like the woman that lights my path has penned....I "wear my faults and pain on my arm like a brace" instead mine is a machete strapped to my leg not burried in yo' face.

My boy Eli, poet extrordinaire, punked the jura today.  He made a lot of sense so the pigs had a fit and squeeled off....rolled his windows up like a "punk *** ***** cop".  Dumb ****** rookie looking for sapos and a snitch...STOP!

Eli was just looking out for his fellow man....also his cousin, blood in part of the Garcia Cervantes, clan...he needs the help. He needs his family with millions of dollars to take the initiative and help their own people.

But since they've ignored their responsibilities, Eli was hoping the police, would step up...."protect and serve" the public's interest but **** those putos who only protect and serve their own...... ***** *** *****. **** THE COPS! **** THE PIGS! WHATCHOO GOT?

All I do is push you further away....I give.... you're already far enough

Ah, se ela soubesse
Que quando ela passa
O mundo inteirinho se enche de graça
E fica mais lindo
Por causa do amor

©Stan Getz

Se me hace raro que mi dentista se parezca a una amiga de Córdoba....y que también tengan el mismo gusto en forma de vestir, en collar, hasta en su corte de pelo.  Aún más raro es que veo a esta cara en el rostro de todas mis nuevos amigos.  Pero imposible....o será?  Hmmmm....que jueguitos que juega su personalidad.... colombianas, argentinas, españolas, inglesa, estudiantes, poetas, músicos y hasta indios y árabes, de CA, OR, NY, WY y quién sabe donde más.

Yo les dije...Dios lo ve todo....hasta los lunares de tu pecho, tu nuca y quijada.

Forevermore

Que me entierren cantando!

Eli the poet just pulled up in a ranfla...   '64 Impala on Daytons, gold glitter, hydraulics....clean *** ride!

Bubba says make tartare of venison but I'm not quite so sure... how bout we just cook it blue and finish off with lemon juice.  Saltpepper, add cumin and some garlic....then I can eat it too.

For the only star in my blackened sky but she's absconded with my soul one more time!

Swimming in Shadows
swarming in from my soul

Talking to thieves that
taunt us to trust.

Drinking down danger
denying death's desire

Forgetting full-well I'm
floating in fire

Ignoring iconoclastic images inked in my eyes

Hoping hypnosis helps
heal humankind

Dangerous dance
done dozens of days

Easiest entry, eternal enslavement; extracorporeal existence engaged.

Some read between lines finding things that don't exist from poems written years ago now published by my wrist.  Funny how we all clown to bring each other down.

Woke from a dream in a dream woke again thinking it was a dream but but then it hit me....it's this nightmare, my HP reality

My body this cage the lust this rage this life... This race what fuss, Turn the Page.
Release your spirit let the soul roll organic submission spun out of control.
Soul over mind like Mind Over Matter Collective memories scattered and splattered
slave to Five Senses, that's all we know in this realm, granted another we'd be overwhelmed.
Pull from your third eye, the medulla as well and realize your body is not stuck in hell.

I was just reminded why
my pencil is so dear.  
Commented on a post ...
...replying in poetry to the host, the battery died
and one if my best pieces
just disappeared.

I struggled in vain
to write it again but
gave up ....
had a fit in a hurry.  

Had I subscribed to the prescription I apply,
I wouldn't be sitting here worried.  

I still have poems I wrote
when I was 13
because I write old school
.....in pencil on paper.  
Sure they maybe faded,
torn, have some folds
but at least they
didn't just become vapor.

So if it hasn't happened to you, learn from this fool
cuz losing prized verses
is not ever cool.

And if it already has,
beware....
technology again
Is not your friend,
It won't pay dividends

So don't be crass
Cuz you'll be
near the end
then **** ...
its gone  ....
having bitten you
right on the ***.

Respect is not commanded nor demanded... it is giving to those who deserve it.  Those who give it to us get it back.

I'll let you rest tonight...I'm sorry I ****** you off....but it was a little funny watching you blow that steam like Woody instead of being my cuddly bunny

If today I pass...everyone at my funeral will see that I was hysterically happy when I died....at last

Since "they" couldn't get to me directly, "they" decided to deal the low blow and destroy you to destroy me....don't let them!  Show them the lion rules the jungle not a bunch of silly monkeys, horses *****, and laughing hyenas.  Roar woman and scatter the miserable life that has crawled out from beneath the dung beetle's nest to foment hate and spread nasty disease

The gnarliest roller coaster ride I've had the displeasure to puke on is HP....One has only to read a poet from debut to see the highs the lows, the curves the blows, the pace it slows, to be scared shitless enough to get back in line and ride again.

My man.....¡Eli!.... "Ey...write a poem about my Ryobi set...I gotta sell it Holmes"......
.tell em I got blades bits I got everything...18 volt....

The cups a poet must drink from to have the fuel to write.

..      ..   .. . . Me..~~.
             the               )
    board  
   water
gravity
4:00 am
peel on the
suit...just the
******* are out
and the sharks to boot.
Paddle out in between sets ...it's a bit chilly, ain't ready yet............

gotta warm up, so I **** in the suit...

Here we go ready for flight..
Let the first roller cruise
right on by,.....the next one's breaking perfectly..10 feet high.

Tip the board on 180 and cup my hands....one two three strokes.... all the way to the sand....
cuz that's how we roll,
the dawn patrol band.

My constellation's
getting brighter,
risen from the ashes,
a phoenix
that's found
it's twin flame.