Super dope Uber
Driver, fixer, father, man
Flies for that paper.

There is no Hell but the one we create,
and should intelligent beings be made
to contradict themselves and become less than ape?

What gardens there be, of all that is discovered
not created by evil or a hand that plows a lover
to the ground with an alien heart that plunders

and with all thoughts so weak to give in
masticate an opposite of love called Sin,
that we should forget what life has been

what All is seen and some mistakes have made
the blind cannot and will never wake
to know what a breath so small has shaped

this Life, not yours, or mind to ****,
but be witness and appreciate --what evil could never
nor hate may endeavor to replicate

the garden you plant will not flourish without light
in hell (no Hell) nor without the rainy heights
you do not need to acknowledge the MightY

but inhale a breath and open your eyes wide
the heartless beasts all in the wild
if so inclined go sleep with them a while...


(Get woke with Beloved, see the Light)

I have found a means to numb myself
To remove what confounded heart is left

For if what remains of it should break
All meaning in my breath will melt & I pray

Nothing will matter but my rage or hate
...and I suppose what remains of myself

Removed? I fear it is a monster with nothing
Else to prove... A one eyed thing, a furious storm,

Hell bent to return what pain was laid to rest.
No love remains if the only gift left is death...

I make smiles from shattered eyes
cry December's distracting frost
move my soul with hopeful sighs
and pray our devotion is not lost

It is the eve of renewal's glee
gave sad promises to spoon the moon
but in the haste of glass we freeze
pose with strangers who fill our room

sweat bemoans my reaching hand
your eyes are vacant with his lust
he bids the hours by your command
we smoke our feelings into dust

this boy is weak yet worships you
opens darkest gates to breed
now enter light that stirs, confused
my tears to scream still go unseen

i am a wish of hearts refused,
the sound of fallen poetry...

Thine eyes were first, earth angel mine
To arrest the breath from within my lungs
Lovely deep blue pools, I drown in kind
But naught a drop from heaven flung

After the reprieve to calm my wits
That your flawless face should dawn
And as tho' a corpse that escaped its crypt
Your beauty dearest, resurrects dead songs

Where in my bones had lingered none.
Oh how I should sing of heavens proved
Having myself been saved yet undone
For thou art gravity of the stars and moon...

Your love delicate and fine, divinely saves
Since life has been touched by your grace.

Believer or not, **** happens
And then it hits the fan
Nincompoop narrations **** news
Alcatraz turns Hollywood tours
Nightlife street food
A craze of tastes du jour
Split or pealed, monkeys drool like crazy...

A wave of a hand
a wand
a wink
             a nod   or  blink
a winged kiss...

You wriggling your nose
spurns me to rub your lamp

I dream of you
as I often can,
           magically and yearningly
I divine your eyes…

What curse or bliss
(Too much of this)
to be abused by your smile
from the muse of your wiles,
all the while
Truly
in our Utopian isolation
no other image of what must
or emulation of their love or
such none-such nonplussed

"you'll die, oh you just must"
dumb struck crush

while we paint ourselves tender
in writhing naked laughter
our own canvas
signed by us...
and only just
ourselves to Van Gogh
"Water Lillies"  and  
"Starry Nights"
       in your blush...
there I can see the future
of your worth
a masterpiece of our colorful theatre
inspiration's lovely birth

in the museums of my lungs
in my life
the art we shape with time
with touch...
what curse or bliss
this wish
come true

a wave of a hand
a wand
                        Our winged kiss…