moiety: a half, an indefinite portion, part, or share.*






          writer                                   ­  reader

             can't have one without the other

normally don't fool around with linear spacing,
there but for the grace of god the words come a tumbling
so fast I plant them down in rows as is customary

but when it comes to that moiety times two blues,
when you've been up all night laying down tracks
and nobody has read you latest histrionics,
you wondering what for do I gig this gig,
fingers asking what's the point of ink staining
heart bugging you, never satisfied, even alone,
needs somebody to know, a status update,
a poem unread is a sin my maybe friends,
so if you should you trip over a stumble ***'s poem,
good or bad matters not, when you read, you complete,
so dying on the vine, untouched, incomplete,
be the first to have moiety times two with it,
the first read is the like the first kiss,
a certification of what is called
po-moeity carnal knowledge

a half, an indefinite portion, a part,
when shared, whereon it be writ-read,
your place on heaven and earth insured,
when you seal someone's else's deal,
I'll know and I'll be putting that checkmark
in my assignment book, and if you should go so far
to press the little red heart, my finger I'll crook,
and install you as co author of the words
a po with no mo
            is half a dream half remembered

tired of singing the moiety times two blues song,
*** going, go forth and like it,
the Frenchies they got style,
when reading a po-mo they like,
they call you up on the phone and ask,
voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
which is French for moiety times two blues no more

Vexed by the dots that are strewn above the clouds.
My intense gaze fixed upon the moon
and the mystery it shrouds.
As my observance leaves home freedom is found.
Invigorating.
Beats of a cosmic drum,
binding strength to my essence,
keep my flight in animation.
The beads of cosmic spring,
trickle the length of my lips
and I dance across the space between each star.

Laughing and crying
and learning the truth of it all,
and seeing the probabilities.
This was my lasting message
as I couldn’t fly forever,
be at one with your planet
for the bounty of nature
is endless,
and our lasting possibilities
simply rely on that.

swirl me at the bottom
of your drink, contemplating
the thought, of leaving it
warm and flat,
not the best part
of anything.

breathe me in
like the last little bit
of your cigarette.
you lit me up and drew
me in, I'm a killer at heart
not in nature
but step on me
when you're done

What should i say,
That is not a rhyme?
Poetry, not this time.