If your heart is strong
Your mind will be fearless
If your mind is stronger
Your heart will never bear the consequence
One's heart will always have insecurities
Because that's where God put the flaws and virtues together

Cases of wine
Oak and limestone
She has got it bad
The limelight

On her face, potent
Ill enough, sad enough for a fad
The prudent student is a sight
Hanging from the Giants box

Here at the dude ranch
Where watchers sleep
Waist to waist
Waiting for the next train from subway to subway

This place is like gossip columns
Gosselies, my town on a medicated night
For ******* dog like me
From Mariah, the maiden far east calling at three

In the morning
In the morning!

I wonder
If I can get lost
In poetry
Then, I find myself
Everyday
A little more clearer
Than the last day
Like a lost poem

Shopping for clothes
Stepping out of the house
Mopping floors
Well, Red Sox never win
These are a few things we do

Mapping out the future of cars
Lagging in studies
Licking our paper dry lips
Well, she never noticed me at lunch
These are a few things we do

Churning butter for families
Making homes for refugees
Creating ideas for Gods and Goddesses
Well, anything for brides looking for something else
These are a few things we do

The day was cold
As hell
It was 9 o' clock
I think
You were in your sweater
I was loaded with 3 layers
When we hugged, my insides became cold
Because I knew you got
Your love
And warmth
From someone else

An actor
Plays a role
A director
Hangs himself
The stage set
Black and white
White and black
Back to back
A cinematographer
Screams suddenly
His camera, corpse
Movies make the poll
Life leaves easily
As difficult death is
Lifelessness takes a toll
Red, yellow, ruby; leaflets often dry, dusty face down
Posters are no longer possessed
The end

I don't need your satisfaction
Your writings on the wall
I don't your enthusiasm
Writings on the wall
I don't need your absent mind
Writings on the wall
I don't need your mind
Writings on the wall
I don't need your abnegation
Writings on the wall
I don't need your capacious heart
Writings on the wall
I don't need your calamity
I don't need your anonymity
Because the writings written in black
Anyway writings on the white wall
Meant for a passerby
Who never wants to go the extra mile

It is the healed scars
That shine through a sad heart
Time heals all who dream for a better life
If only the sadness evaporates
Then the scars forgotten bring back what we lost
Shining brighter

Deep in you, hangs your world
Fears, worries, pains are yours, as black secrets torment you
The life in me sees the world in you, you haul chains in lost minds
we speak the language, but you hear not cause your world is in you
Grandiose arid cursed witless lands, of those who think they are gods
These lines read like my rights
If you're my antipathy, towards my society
I use my rights to avoid your moral policing
Morals are a habit, a probable cause

It is surprising
How motivation can be found
In the loneliest people
And gracefully welcome them
Since they are the ones who talk
For hours about their loneliness
So motivated to be part of the whole
But botherations come
After all allegations come I'm an owl awake at night, and I can't sleep
Therefore I'm a bird at day
When I escape a hole
And finally see the light
I'll find your inner voice
With it comes ability and avoidance
You have to learn to love yourself
I'll be a part of the whole world if you let me sleep peacefully
But, I have many miles to keep
And seeds to reap

Cat
You'll be a lion soon
Dog
You'll meet a man
Girl
You'll keep those nine lives with you
Boy
You'll feel whole again

If our love were lavish as affectionate
Moor and mire would swallow my sallow breath
With trees and lack of remorse, ******* would flower
Flocculent and bright as the sun that shone in her hair
Godly grace, I beg my witless lies should be spoken
Among the goodly men with their enervated women
Such lithe beings would emerge from a youthful glance
I would ask myself how does appear the chance
In the face of fear, I would forget my enemies
And make love my ultimate goal for thee
In such apprehension many lovers shall turn away
I instead ask let us have long love’s day, well spent
For in thee, I find my heart’s words and speak
As well as the air often associated with the pale and meek

The fallen circumstances
Chuisang was just a word
That I found out of circumspect learning
Of the Chinese language
Then, I called it love

I meant to say sorry
So long ago
I wanted to nurse my heart
I cursed my ego
And hope you can love again

I guess
You know there is
Nothing else to say
But, to say you are sorry too

If I could
Run from problems
I would choose to walk away

If I could
Escape from fear
I would choose to face the music

If I could
Run from problems
I would choose to face them with you

The nights are sleepless
If I would stay awake
You would call me on the cordless one

If hanging up meant
Hearing you breath raspily
You can bet that I am not in love

These women
Languid and bare
Smoke my cigarettes
With a stare
Is it too much to ask
"Is it too much?", I ask
For us lovers
In this hopeless place
To a hopeless road
That leads nowhere
Where nobody recognizes
The homeless crowd on a lavender-scented road
Looking for another beer
Another cigarette lit up
She is still looking at me
"Where am I?" she asks
I tell her it's beautiful
As long as it ain't
Paris and hella far away
In some distant galaxy
Where they don't sell cheap *****
And cups of coffee for a remedy
She keeps pointing at me with her laser-like leer
I jeer and mock a bit
Begging her to talk a bit
Is it fair to keep a good gal
In your house, just for company
Probably not
But, hell it beats isolation
And paying for cigarettes and coffee
The women buy everything these days

Did you know?
You could slowly
Eat an apple
With its pips
Plump red acidic taste
And system
In haste

Thoughts don't come so easy
Thank god
Difficult to shorten haikus

If cruising ships pass by
Take the next one and say goodbye
If you think we scratch the surface
Don't go as deep as my vinyl shelf
I suspect that
Women have two tragedies
One finding love
And the other is losing respect
If I vilify my records
Will it satisfy your soul
Sinner or saint
I have no past or future
Only the present is recorded
Leave the windows shuttered
As I see the stars from the gutter
Leave with the wine
The vinyl will remind me
Of what was no longer mine

Ever since my wife died
My well
Hath run dry

A student
A boy
In disguise
As a ploy
For prudent behaviour
How long must be long enough
With starlight in his fingers
The sorcerer said he needed magic
He wasn't magical enough
If voices rang from Heaven
Such would be his Incantations
But, the master wanted a servant
Not an apprentice

Red trees
Turn the day
Into dead nights

Shall I compose a tragedy
On the canisters of meat and food lined on empty stores
Next to the aisles as sold-out grocers
Tomorrow is no place for the stares of vegetables

The depths of the ocean are blank not blue
As the deck of the ship under the sun without a tune
Captain's call reaches a few onboard
Tomorrow surrounds us like dew on a leaf flown

Shall I compose a tragedy
Pile lines after lines, as they do in slaughter houses
Deciding whether to leave a smell of freedom
For the prisoners inside

Tomorrow is not for the man on the pavement
For it may be the coldest winter next
Tomorrow is not for the grieving widow
If she were to find love behind the locked door

In the beginning God created heaven and the earth
With a weak hint of life
Of a dozen untold stories, holding us close to his chest
Hidden behind the light, as if half-asleep in the cold night

A creature without form, simply a void
With a strong dose of arrogance
Many people avoid you on the empty streets
And forget you on Sunday nights like a medieval castle

If you do not see the sun
Signifying the warm haze and sultry light from above
Turning itself into electric heat, visible from the bottom of a sea
Remember, the tide waits for none

Just come ashore

The great thing about poetry
Is its simplicity
The more you write
The better it gets

I know there is
An answer
To every prayer

The birds
Are singing
Maybe

If I could walk in shadows
I would hide my untoward steps
In the sands of forgotten time
If I could **** myself quickly
I would by asking for a slow death
That everyone would cease to remember my gift
Or desire it even
If I could hide in a waterfall
I would stride as rivers do
To an eminent downfall
Like an imminent dictator being put to rest
If you want life's things to come to you
Fight for it till your last breath dries
Into a simple word of woe
I have hinged from a dozen blue oceans
I have thousand miles on me like a man in a graveyard
But, I am no more closer to being alive

A beggar knocked on my window
A tap was enough to grab my show
He was a little boy of four
I never saw him no more
He asked for support
He drowned in the Chesapeake
Now he is a drunkard
And he likes his whiskey with rye bread
Unlike the dead crowd in bar of wry attendants
His paltry cash deposits make for no riches
He lives life with crutches
Barely makes it a mile with no shoes on
But he knows how to run from the dour cops
Because he has always been in trouble
His name is trouble
He tap dances on streets in a disguise
To save the attention and scour for glory
From the remains of some dead poet

Life without music
Is just love without
The words
Or the other way around

Every face, the same as the rest
Every headline, the same as the rest
A long war wages on
Erasing any joy

It bleeds like the one in here
Cold and hostile
Every voice in the inner streets, abuzz in my ear
Every naked impulse, followed by fear

I told you the last time
I'll be out to sea
That I'm fine without you
I'm alright without the anchor of memories

And so the war wages on
I'm counting the days
An ally
Found in the light sliver of sunlight at dawn

Is followed by
A message from the wind
Read in the pages of the night
And a hurting heart has begin to see

Light follows dark
Day follows the night
Life follows Death
I've begun to believe this

When I'll be back
I don't know
To tend to the garden
That lies back at home

The war
Razes the flowers
I nurtured
When I was young

I now count the days
Till the next storm
For now
The pink skies just look perfect

I ask myself
Is there more that meets the eye
In the pursuit of happiness
Do I cry
If I am glad
Or I am rife with sadness that rings in my temple
Like a block of ice broken against a hammer
The deeper I get
The colder and harder it is
So, I say is there more than that meets the eye
It is all a figment of the ember of your imagination
Melting the ice into a trickling stop

I live to sail
On the shores
Everywhere
In this simple rhyme
I cannot say
The sails on a ship
Are taking me somewhere
The probe will tell me today
My dreams are for today

In life's vicissitudes
I found tall trees
Revealing their age
In their wrinkles
Maybe it was just their nature
To be free
Of their roots
School of thought
Food for books
Food of thought
Schools for books
Tornadoing through the education
Of restless looks

The ability to roll with the punches
Allowed me to fight my way out
But, I wrote about the violence

I waited for hours
When the orange skies
Turned red and cloudy
I left and folded my clothes
The night will not be kind
I yawn as I cry
Soon I fill my heart
With heat of a kerosene stove
My stomach is empty
My feet are bare
My mind's full of worry
So hurry gimme some free money
Or it will cost somebody
The flowers that now thrive
Will grow cold and die
Like all of me
But, it starts with a drizzle
We were hundred miles away
The last train decided to stay
We were nowhere each day
Someday what will I find
As I leave my old life far behind
Soon I'll be hungry
Some food will find my way
As I go home to beef and soup
Pilsners and limousines wait for me
My master is chasing my ma around
A coach carries a couple to a British Inn
The Cadillac's are dull and empty
Cream colored crops have no farmers
Beers have no friends
Cigarettes only have solitary thoughts
That go up in smoke
I miss the fast food joints
Where burgers and shakes take the cake
Lakeside boats are perfect
An automobile waits for me
As I am on my way to my prison cell
Somebody gave me too much money
To spend so I bought a fake Monet
I had a million dollar bash
I may have been a beggar but I was a tool

The first time
I laid eyes on that shy iris
It was my heart that burst
Now that we meet for the last one
My heart is buried
Your eyes have become dangerous

Find someone with those legs
Stand up and move forward
Keep your heart strong
My sweet Iris

The fathers engage in discourse
Nothing to endorse
The silent tools of sculpted clay
Are used to help some die
The vibrant crowd is called a jubilee
There is no dead man with the treasure

Under the sea there is no fish
He sleeps with the faithful
The fast life is too slow
For the sickly as they hold their balance on the die
Like a gambling ghost
The father engage in discourse
With nothing to endorse

The fallacy of the education comes in phases
Hades isn't ruling over hell or Cereberus
They have called him to guide us
Since the rebels are at home
The homes are asking for just a refill of beer
The fathers are engaged in discourse
With nothing to endorse

The cops cry with foamy laughs
The tears of blue turn the heart blue
A shrill scream can be heard from the tavern
The moonshine liquor is tossed back and forth
Soon, many will be moaning in the cavern
The fathers are engaged in discourse
With nothing to endorse

I will never be yours
You are too extraordinary
The drunken politician weeps
The saviours are fast asleep

The ocean looks just like you
You are kind
You are highly spirited
But, it doesn't matter

Because I am too ordinary
Maybe, we are opposites
But, we don't belong to one another
Without me, you are just living an ordinary life

Blue pain
Silver rain
Window stains
Near the wolfs bane

We are part
Of the same game
Sprouting like flowers
Numbed by desire

I wish
I could look
At your eyes
And wipe away the tears
That touch your smile
In the pursuit of happiness

I felt truly
Happy
When I knew I could be heard
Even with a smile on

If they ask for a poem
I'll send them my pen
Like they expect me to write anything
In jail
My friends think I'm failure
That's why the pen is mightier than the sword
And the pen represents a world hinged on one word
Love

The best way
To express yourself
Is by praying for many

On a new day
Where new beginnings
Seem brighter than
Happy endings and cool sun-rays

In a deluge
Where snowy mountains
Crackle under your feet
More than
Leaves under your moccasins where they meet

I miss some of these memoirs
I wrote somewhere safe
Now they got hidden under a
Pile of things which were meant
For you to take

Such is my childhood, unneeded
So innocent
Like an icicle aesthetically placed on a cave
Ready to **** someone at a moment's notice
With a deluge of spontaneity

Hey, we could be old together
If you could sleep with me on an ocean
Till I start sinking and the record stops playing
All those precious tunes, when I barely could breathe

You stay with me in my mind
None of my pictures come back in time
So I picture them, as they fade away
They skip and step away just like a rock

Though, it is really goodbye this time
I know that all those memories remain
All I am saying is that this is my final curtain call
My friends are no longer my friends, but, a distant memory

Hey, we could be old together
If you loved my havoc-ridden mouth
Or my panic-stricken heart
With all your selfless love, without misgiving

I saw a dog on the street
His kindness followed me
He never made it to my mass, quite a pity
Doesn't understand God any more than a boy on a swing
Doesn't go to school, either
All they do is preach
Teaching us how to con heaven's door
When we fail

Where will we go
I don't understand you anymore
You don't understand I am a forgotten orphan
Sometimes, you cannot hear me in the shadows of my room
Yet, the priest asks me how is my life
I cannot even pray for a better life
Kindness cannot be taught
I pray for kindness, the dog believes I deserve it

The reason you should
Write
Should not come from someone else
It should be purely your own
Intrinsically melted with your identity
Like the flame that sings from the softness of the ground
Slightly tepid like the mind of a writer
The reason you should
Write
Should not come from the bookstore
Looking for love and drugs in your poetry
If it is the drugs then leave it
If you are looking for ****** on some avenue
Leave the trade
Move away and let an honest man
Take your space
That is why I write

I love the way
Your voice crackles
With the breaking pain
That shatters your heart
Completing you again

I love the way
Your stories sound
Like tales told from some
Fantasy I never have known
Or a poem passed down from tomes

Most of all, I love how you write so well
Even when you are hurt