I can hear it in the streets
The mind is trying to touch my fears
Instead, bravery is enslaved by people on their knees

The daylight hits the streets
The vessel of fallacies of thousand miles
Understands when I need to leave my current path

I'm on Kansas streets
Looped in streets and taking roads that will change
Like I hope that you will change, but, you just get angry

We never get anywhere with this fighting without culture
A peaceful instance isn't culture, it's a shot heard around the world
A sailing soldier on this endless river, we never agree

I could not control
My hunger
My heart's gone cold
Nothing's gonna change my mind

The depth of disguises
My foolish pride will not change my life

I could not control who I am
My rights and life which is one of captivity
My life will stay the tides of ants and I'll like to keep
My ideas in the chambers of ligature marks

I am left with an anthill that never moves in the motionless fan
Applications of killing and impressive stories
All under a microscope, when will I free my mind and apply lessons

I could not control my anger
My strength and learned much will do
They can find their way to love so I don't burn

Watch my struggle
With words in this poetry and they tell me to house my mind
In crooked paragraphs and silent verses burning

I drank so much and wrote
I had to quit writing
And start fighting wild in the mildest dream of ****** freewill
Like a candle in the wind, crazily dancing like flickering imagos
It got worse when the roof leaked and the coruscating light died

I followed you down the circles
Of free skies that breath wind
A man without ambition has no wings

A person who repents
Holds too many regrets
Has a small heart unable to express himself
In chaos
Some of us find a road of valor instead
Of opposition to our expression
We seek to be ignorant
When we should be brave
We hate cowards
When we fear that our heart
Cannot accept everyone
We could at least
Work on our fears
And help others understand the courage
The will is inherent and if we understand the risks
We could have substance in this chaotic world order
Some of us never return from our journeys
Some of us never wish to either
That is the story of faults and flaws
We get hindered by plotting out holes in each other
Pushing one another in the game of life
We should have counted the cowards instead of the *******

It's not that I don't
Like being myself
I just cannot see myself
Without you and I won't

He was blessed to be a survivor
He found his home
In the recesses of his mind
He had no home
He had no mother
He was self-taught

If only someone told him
What you think you become
He wouldn't be homeless

Many of us really do not
Like writing for fun
So we try our best to have some innocent fun
Expressing our adulthood
In the cries of the night

Some say it's the moon
Some say it's the moon
Some say it's an eclipse
At noon, we all sleep under the brainchild of God
Truant of the pernicious nature of the Sun
And innocuous nature of the moon

Many of us really do not
Like traveling for fun
So we try our best to have some innocent fun
Expressing our riches
In the cries of the night in the arms of a local stranger

Some say it's harmful wine
Some say it's trusted wine
Some say he's well endowed with the same perception
Call it similitude, we border on the art of crying souls
Flourishing their wands at the slightest presence

Many of us really do not all this magic
Try sleeping with your eyes open, and you'll find the beauty
Of closing your eyes to the blue moon that will soon turn
I do not hope to turn

I sat in the ****** mystery
At the end of the book
My jaw was left wide open, sitting on the empty witnesses

I'm stuck
Please get me out
I like living with my sons
And daughters in magazines
Please release my terse rhimes
In the clutched dust of dusky hands
These days look like blaring dreams
I might die in the connoted fires
Looks like I'll stick myself with icicles
Ad veritas to my journey
Quote greats, and veritably drink wine
On the rose minds of hysterical naked souls' bliss
In this merriment of nubile nights existing in a tinsel town
We are dreaming up Kansas from the broken covenants
I'm stuck with bullish promises
Show me you care for my truancy and lurid face
Probably fondling your hands, and cupping steam
In your spectacles of crystal haze, limericks in your case
Studied by pianos reminiscent of sleigh bells and bobsleds
Hanging lights of ebony and ivory in the cars of piano men
Slowing dancing in the burning loops of tropical Capricorn
Morning sunrise haikus cold as November, sorta' short like Indian winters

If I walk on the first floor
The first room on the right
The third eye hears you on the left
We are looking at stormy weather on this island
Where there are two doors for lovers

One out of the other, surrounding us
Inroads and blazing highways culpable temptations
We are no stranger to choosing the next door
Being the strangers to reality as she asks Hera
Life is full of opportunity and misguided destitution
Isn't this astute, that we yearn for the thirty seconds with stars
And wait for weeks to fly by, when midnight
Will arrive on the cold winter mornings, the nights are brighter
Surprise us with dawn on the petrichor of Satryichon
Depends on which tree you're climbing, and which room you're zen in a lassoed sky
Where there are two doors for lovers, their dinner party
Instant pleasure, crushed glasses, pure rear-ended folk looking for an angry substitute for passion
Prejudiced by the mad sages, we never listen to the sense of old men stuck in cages
Fearing their umbrage and sensible confabulation
Every poem has to have an ending, this one does too depending on your sterile entry
Wound by pride, bound by prejudice

I'm definitely going blind
I read the news and hear of pride
I'm proud of our undignified children
Placed in trenches, digging ditches
For the lost children

He calls us to hear the daily radio
The rest of the stories can be heard
In inscribed halls present in the colorful doors
Term ends, and a new semester begins
For the lost children

I'm definitely going blind
But, this might be the state of mind
In an educating time of hippie culture unabashed bashing each other on the whiteboards
Graffiti writes itself gracefully, subways travel like suitcases
These people don't belong here
For the lost children will never be lost again

If you aren't certain
That your work counts
You're in the wrong line of work
Your fire might die out befallen
Buttress the iciness of your handshakes
The curtains fall on your face before you make a name
For yourself in the curtain call

Cleaning washboards
On the back of my president lane
I am the reflection of a world
That was once ours
That died when we lost faith in the system
The centuries remain the same
I'm a dead president still alive
The song remains the same
"Hang 'em"
On the bloodied walls of underground thoughts
Life's do or die, and the washboards lose the cut up bones
A dog dug the ground and hid the frenzy

Dig sally up

We are looking
For people to complete us
But, can we accept the truth

When we look into ourselves
Deeply
We realize everyone is trying hard
How can we look into ourselves
Without realizing
We are at war with our souls
How can we ask for love
When we give suspicion
In return for friendship
Look into yourself deeply
If you hear silence
You may weren't born with a soulless voice
Sleep on this, or wake up and apologize for being sentimental
About your life

Dispatch to the brain
We're gonna hit the ******
Request for back-up, vaginal tendencies

The mirrors of wisdom
Told me I have three eyes
It's better if I was a closet homosexual who didn't care at all

Head on heart
Tail between his legs
Head over heels
Foot in mouth
I hope he comes back again

Being Coy Meaning
I'd Thou Employ
To forlorn my woebegone
Doubst to be! Ah- ye and arts shy
Yonder There of me born
Spears so fragile once, now by
Yor' magnetizing magic magickals
Disperze, diverse, reverse, relinquish and revive, reroaring
darling mine
God throws dice in places unseen to us, like thoughts in a dream

Get out of my inorganic hand
Get on with your organic life
I can't keep holding on to your tears and talent for eclipses
Ambition and dreams
Wild living and dull death has strayed from its highways
We are holding on to your distant dream oh loved ones
Unknown thoughts linger and follow you in the machine heart on wheels

I let her shine
I let her fly
I let the ring finger hold the gold mine

Underground in a mining town
All he needed was some light to see
He was accustomed to the supernatural darkness and low-visibility
No stranger to the dark
He had never seen the light

He was simply akin to his mining work
His father did not like his bright son working
Raging in a madhouse, he never saw his son again
Fathers lose their son to disease, and sons lose their fathers to dull madness

Underground in a mining town
It was always dark and many hadn't stopped dealing slaves
Sunlight was scarce, and he wiped his eyebrow sweat
The boy's shadow never saw the light of day
It was always scared and the brave boy never saw his spirited shadow again
Until he came out only for midnight-schooling and cheap women in neon streets

He was simply akin to his mother
If someone had told him to stop digging, it was her
It was his shadow, that took after his father
The boy hated his own shadow, a solitary light flickered in the coal mine
Not a shadow in sight

Eugenides
Tell us some history
Or eat your food carefully

Once upon a time, self portentous reached the fuchsia ****** on the orient in the ghostly daze of Chinatown in tassel-blue linen
Ire of the bar-keepers can be surmised in the *** and soup
The express takes me from place to place, is this some sort of country comfort

Who cooked the wurst, livers of cattle in the pure savagery of the animal farms, dreaming of vegetables too
Hiding in the form of jazz cat hanging around speakeasies, pleasuring themselves in the ravages of good people
I have changed my mind on punishment and the ire of careless alcoholism on the angry streets looking for work

The good people tell me to get work
Am I stealing my time out of mind, I'm poised
By being an unemployed poet out of luck
I am positioned towards the west end

I'm stuck here in the east, wondering if we were always like this
The west wetlands beckon to me, time to get a job and turgidly ravaging beautiful women
But, that's something possible for a man in a western patriarchy
Adonis of Denver ******* in harlots in the west of Hell's Kitchen reminds me of well-acted *******
Making bad decisions in movies seems like a farce

Most of those beat directors are successful *******
They'd beat me if I'd crawl up their personality
Is this fate or am I part of the same successful capitalist Zen
I must be going mad in this monetary fund of scarce neon streets

You should hear me recite Heinrich Boll
The train was on time

For keepsakes, well obligated and drowning in debt
A trip to the orient wouldn't be bad, but, the fire in my painted house swallows me
Someone has to put it the **** out or turn the light cold
Years went by Frumpy went cold and murderous, no more old

In the look-out of lamps
The peak of evidence in the ridiculous cheer
Cry, baby jeering
Indignant on the field of dreams
Suckling in his cropped photos clearly in kuv
Oasis and the mirage of love and teller maps
We crowd the love with the affection of all sorts of purchases
Venus bought Cupid a bow when he was conceived in her salacious dreams and voluptuous *******
Stammering with ransacked inns of heartbreak, hotels bustling
The battlecry sounded like the Camus in this outsider to life looking for exile
We can inadvertently enjoy this pyromania and **** our dreary fears with a sensitive soul
In the form of Gods, and belief in the love of residents of the heart so fickle
We are on the moon if we could just have our rightful place on the blue moon, away from the crass clowns
Whatever decides, decides whenever it wishes, without wondering
I just don't like dying to the idea of conformism or lobotomized
I understand the idea of being crushed, but, not disappointment
That's a something I cannot reconcile

Flying paper planes
Erasure mornings on trains
This planet is on the wheels of the Solar System

We welcomed the war in the confusion
On our souls with shrieks of haunting derelicts
Reminded our parents that we were wrong, whispers of the honorific Hakagawa bows
Predating the caitiffs of the pejorative context of the peace talks in the city light bowing out
Trenchantly expressing ourselves in vapid cigarillos, looking for another kick
We got kicked out of the missile nation and ended up on the radar of meritorious icicles
We smoked up the clock latching on the count of tacit reason
Blessed by reason and cursed by ignorance, wandering the blue skies in wedlock

Complacent about our pallor with weighed shoulders
Transparent about our complaints of penury, livid about promised lands
Arid vicissitudes pilfering bandits casting and ostracized folk-rock
Pallid coffers in the kiosk hanging out in teddy bear streets mourning the death of drugs
Stentorian blogging along with the fustilug with crushing self-doubt in the war on welcoming namesake
Transparently opaque about my doubts in my angry fix putting me to repose, bit by bit
War is peace

Lintels and truth
Hotels juxtaposed in the syncopated flickering
Mobile hotels finding their meaning in a portmanteau
Laissez-faire calls for a reaction
Combing through the spring temperament, and passionate loquacity
Counting my words when talking about trash in fashion
Spend on the passing fashion and fester a little ****** peace and penned-letters of good grief from breathless representatives
Hanging from the balance of thought and action, clinging to crippling doubt

The crazy thing about love is the journey is the pilgrimage
In the end, there is a marriage that I don't wanna stay in
By the time we understand love, the crosses have become longer
Like stars winking at each other kinda cross-eyed
And the marriages become shorter, and good luck is gone in crucibles
Weren't we younger, with the raucous youthful silence looks absurd
Clause and far away ideals, all written in the recorded book of timeless riffs
Creases of grassy lights and trees hang like winging towns in this transitory town that moves to-and-fro
Impotent I feel in this imperfection, everything seems perfect
You completed me at aphrodisiac and took my power for greedily granted festering wars
Feeding the Chordata of moloch, genome hanging like graceless grades of the college dropout from faceless despair of learning biology
Becoming a named politician following the murmur of rosy beads and green grass, ****** out on a frenzied Friday good for another year

Protected and recyclable, like life enrapturing us in murmurs when it If I'm being sorry and being silent, maybe I'm conscious of my yearning
Risk of being a bad influence, the insurrection of goodness is that velleity towards life evaporating
Without arrogance, honesty lives and learning are passionately making out the life out to a mothball of obdurate in duress

The closer winter comes
It becomes a little colder
It's kind of poetic because of the wait that never runs cold
Winter comes, I hope the road is open to growing old

{\ _ /}
( • - • )
~\   /~
  ~ ~- -
Believe what you see,
Imagine what you think,
See-through anything,
Bless your neighbor and good comes to those who hail the truth
Try living with a peaceful mind and you'll understand what I mean

Imagine a world with love
Now imagine it with peace
Did you really think we were at war with ourselves?

I am a man
I want the world
I am a man
I want the riches
I am a man, after all

I want the knowledge of Earth
Without the riches of a world, I am without women
I want the knowledge of habitat and enrichment

But, I'm poor because of my intellect that has no goddess
For that, I need a woman

Coast to coast
The more you come to town tasting of a strange brew
You leave the train station in downtown Arkansas, dreamin' of America
The more you can fiend your way alone, friends to toast with
Moksha attained, I'm going off to Mars looking for enlightenment
My space is booked and the coast looks like a sea seldom touched
Kinda like blue midnight in Martian space, riding in a summer car
Shining lady fickle
Makes a good pickle
I want a taste of your sickly sour
Coal from the coast, take my life on your jungle groove
In heeps of trolley's, trollops in the shiny diamond cars
Diamond shining in the hustled season, unknowing of what's charging past marching mayflowers
Today's dills in summer taken in chrome horses hanging out in grander pernicious places, we could steal and thieve from petty complaisant men

If you cut hair
Make sure you sweep before you go too
And cut other's before the beat

The ruminations of a horse
Cry like a stallion
Ride like the wind, and run out into the wild

A sheep herd burned in the road, monotonous sibilant calls
House in the dirt, coal eyes felt no pain with the fire of inner visions
He shrieked in descending flames, yelling in his religious abode
Crowned boldly without reprieve for his drunken soul
God, why have you forsaken me
Ad lama sabachtani crying on Everest megalithic of lithe souls burning
Have you got a moment to hear a match-lit forlorn rag, these words burn me in my throat
In the form of quasi-knowledge, I can still hear the shrieks of madness
Moloch, Moloch, Moloch and neon traffic lights shine across the square
I'm at the crossroads of my winding life searching for truth
Speaking about conformism while understanding the crushing penury
Leek, green grass, that's all these sheep can eat
The foggy scene killing my joy frescoed in her mind without wheatish flax seed
There were no seeds to sow, the land was fertile and we could sit for another folly time in this sold-out show
Watch the thunder die with the snow as the student takes Thunderdome

The lively crowd loves us too much indeed
The lovely performer looks us in the eye leer in his meritorious sigh
We could handle our anticipated warning, hurling art across spectral glances of supernatural volunteers
These people would rather sleep than be ghosts in the party
Simply singing, confetti communist architecture, we are all glad Karl
Like kids, we belong to this doltish crowd full of hope and greed
Our dreams protect us in these urchin-laden streetlamps, many of them holding the paper eating their senses
I am me, you are youthful tides
You are in the spring of your pubescence
Judge Gideon sings to us our verdict, laying faith in the party

Wearing down the torture and the welcomes of loved ones
Frowning and smiling glibly wasting across the desert sun
Glued to the **** and *****, it's torture to have been happy-go-lucky

I'm talking fuzzy in a freight train of thought
I'm in the hood holders and boxcars, some of them keep passes
I'm locuting about the things we were, within the neighborhood
Part of these merry conversations, I look at my ears
From outside, I might be drunk
Not yet, as long as it's nighttime and nightcap time
The next day waits for me to leave life in the tide of indelible relief
My legacy in a catchphrase mucous membrane of delightful freedom
Crap and fuliginous Fugazi's, a part of belonging to the real things
I wondered a bit in vain and people lurk across the legacy steel
Tumescent buildings towering the moon, ebbing against the Sun and red herring crossed the desert

I'm surrounded by words and saw the demise of God's meaning
Inane cases of Sunday afternoon
These are how my worlds are
I walk into spirits of a material living
I'm unsure whether I'm free from these words or the necessities of begging
I feel lamentable and slide right into my depressiveness
Oppress the oppressor, the ringing bell of ****** progress
I haven't finished my pills, either way, being near the whanging streets in limerick streets
Forlorn and fraught with medication and the lack of a noisome drug that has no surmise
Emetics accompany the frequent visits to the blue halls of hallucination, confusing and bright
Read Harriet stone, and bleached winter ****** on nature's haze
When will the sky clear and when I see the light?
I know it's you I'm looking at all this time, I'm a child of a lost spirit
It dwells on me like a blue moon that barely ever comes

A moon hovers us, like a friend
The moon pulls us a bit to close, asking us to fly kites
There was once a time when well-lit streetlights held the light of prostitution and deafening gun chase
We controlled the deranged inveterates, even accused the government and the thrills of the chemicals
But, we never came back from that, now, I cannot hold myself with veracity or cheap freewill
I hope it ends wilting freely, ****** on the west side near the waters
Love waits
On the ****** on the west end, disguised in a leader's meandering gait

Cooking up apologies
Recipe for disasters
Verbal diarrhea lashing out in pederasty
Many hearts lived
When learned love required hiding your naked tail between your legs

When we travel
We leave our troubles behind
And our anticipation on our mind, and elation up ahead

If I can respect you like I love ideas
I can conceptualize my defeat
And call it a concept that converses with inner passion
And pain is just a bough of cheap existence expensive as the taste of hashish
Perhaps we could certainly make do with merit and the Ides
Come to doorstep, march on my life and knock on door
Call me up fool from a brass phone booth, matrices
Trapped in the smoked police building we were unwary of the transient redness
Of her eyes brimming with such satisfaction, the many of the few features
All of my love in multitudes, my thoughts become a bit more than I can chew
Many for the few loveless ones

I was avoiding
The skydivers in town
The parade fell like chutes in steel moon, tanks never passed the *****

If you wear shoes that look
Like you
Just do it, it’s not impossible to justify the circumstances of wanting
It’s harder being needy and looking like you own nothing
Like you own nothing, we are all a mere second in an hour of perfect time
Well men and glassy eyes among strangers in pirated documentaries
Digital dreamer, follow this path of giving
God has given me this world, and that will do the rest
This is the entire living in one second of ephemeral time meant for us
The hours turned cold and time flew
You kept running
Like you, I am lewd too, and I can’t run

A bought a peach dripping from serendipity
A stolen apple from beggars dreams
A bough of flowers from the nearest bouquets
A couplet of children followed me, driving me bananas
Popular with them, I made haste with the bread and wine from the supermarket in downtown annals of stated streets
All of them were documented like the underground denizens of the supercilious looking for a summer promiscuity and bacchanal

You hold hair
Gracefully, educating
My promise to be positive too, hugging my head

The way you cry
O’er the leaking roof
Under the stars, holding water

The way you cry
Over your bread
Recess of people make the time out of selling it by the wheat

The marijuana can **** a bit of pain
I don’t know how, I just never hoped
It would be so soon that it weeded out my mead, kneeded with *******

A dream of little sunshine on your street
I pressed my cheek to you demurred
Joyous that we had divided the new order and found God lurking in the corners of godless streets