This one time I felt* your pull of my
Hips, subtly curving to meet your touch
Fingers c
                a
                   s
                      c
                         a
                           d
                              i
                                n
                                  g
                                     through my hair hanging
Medium to fine
Fire*
            
                Down
                         My
                              back.

And pulled it hard-er.  Please.

This road less traveled, has been walked down before
A million times and a million times more
So much that people’s feet have gotten rather swollen and sore.
As they sit from the sidelines watching you limp through the road that has been traveled
Some more
Thinking, “******* this road’s a *****.”

YOU aint no gangsta.
With a pistol grip pump.
******* underaged girls
For money to buy junk.
You’re a player for sure.
Playin with minds of children is easy.
Capitalist pigs like you make me queasy.  
You smashin the man?
Youre jackin off to the sounds of the system,
Beatboxin records while the ignorant minds listen.
To illusions of grandeur…
Your caddy rims rollin.
All the while corporations controllin
Your mind.
YOU aint no gangsta
With a pistol grip pump.
youre just a ****. *****-average guy
Walking a racial divide
Elitist **** telling another whitemans lie.
To the masses of laborers.
Buyin what you be sellin
Your  notions of success
Aint my version of rebellin.

elemental [ˌɛlɪˈmɛntəl] adj
1. fundamental; basic; primal the elemental needs of man
2. motivated by or symbolic of primitive and powerful natural forces or passions elemental rites of worship
3. of or relating to earth, air, water, and fire considered as elements

My skin shapes itself around the scars seared mercilessly
Into my mind, soul and body.
I breathed you in.
The salt and tobacco, overwhelming
As I recall your twisted embrace
Enchanting, and toxic
Suffocating my soul, diminishing the blaze.
And I must rekindle myself
To find that place,
where you can’t be.
There is a part that wants .
To feel your presence, once again.
Holding me
Back down, into the dust that shapes,
and folds under
Crushing waves.
Of water
as they are colored by the suns flames
here resides an ever present rage
The fibers of forest green are darkened beneath
The weight of wet
assimilation
Transpires, enveloping you into a distant memory
Of nothingness
My scars seared on like armor
Remind I burn through air
And earth
Transcending creation,
Destruction’s my curse
You, as the maker
Took more than I was worth.
Maybe you knew in the wisdom
That sometimes comes with
strife.
The life you had given
Was not yours to claim.
These walls I built for water
stand sturdy, scorched by pain.

There was this one time I wrote
To the mad man who sat
Catty corner
To my thoughts
But on par
With my emotions.
He pushed me out of my poem, told me to get lost
And asked for some change.
Indignant.
Who did he think he was?
His graying hair, was long gone
Traded in for the simplicity
Of a bald head
That made him look like Buddha
If the Buddha had a drinking problem
Wrinkled skin
And an ill temperament
That’s what he would look like
Sitting catty corner to my soul
In a tender bar.
Where rings of condensation
Encircled a home for the pilsner glass
Filled to the top with melting ice
That rests astride a pint
Glass now empty .
I finished the thick dark liquid an hour ago
At this point, I’m imploring the barman
To fill it, with whiskey instead of beer
He refuses
And assures me of my inability
To stomach that much liquor,
Hands me more receipt paper
And glances over the crumpled
Failures
Crowding my designated
Region of the bar.
Lips question writers block
But his eyes
Tell me
He knows
All the false starts surrounding my person
Indicate
A lack of conviction when it really counts—
I glare back
As he shakes his head
Mutters something about
Women giving him grey hair
And he tells me to drink my ******* water
My catty corner mad man has long since
Gone,
I, left with the self consciousness
And wet rings of condensation
That safely harbor my thoughts
At the tender bar.

Tell me tell me
Where did the light go?
This is the end where it all began.
As heart-break built an
Artist, who pushed it all away
For genius, a moment of glory, recognition
To burn in someone else’s being.
But now all the pages have been
Typed, the blood with which this **** was writ
Has long since run dry
And the solitary moments that once inspired, now lack
A special burn
Tedium has sunk the ship
/and everything more important has been lost.
This is beginning of the end
Of a being
Who hung from the rafters, legs reaching for the inferno, eyes without spark
Clinging to earth as a material corpse became
Too shallow to dissipate
Into ever-thinning air.

How can I fall out of favor
With your
Soulful need
For me
And my own selfish need for you
I mean
Tomorrow night
I may be with something more productive
(Like my thoughts and dreams)
But there is a destructive
Force inside of these
Pressuring  this unforgivable union
Of sorts
I mean
Monogamy is *******
Right up there with altruism
Right?
But then there is you and I.
Is it just the two of us,
That can defy the laws of
Rational reason, logic aside?
yes, I feel as though it must…be
so here is my ode
to a bottle of ’03 Bordeaux.