Pirates & "Injens"
The world watches, making bets.
Football not Soccer.

Indigent / outcast
trailer trash
flotsam.
We are products of our surroundings.

Or is it upbringing
Taken / down
Far from home
If it's where the heart is...

"Worthless idiot"
She spits on him
Like her rednecks and niggar ****

Her tricks
Quick to flick
Their Bics and *****
Bringing home the other
Black.

Reynolds wrap and points at the back
Hiding in the thickness
Of weeping veils
Of willows

Outside the picket fences
Just beyond Royale Park mobile
Community
Missing it's gate
All the times shivoo

When the South is clammy
Sweat shop swamps
And blistering
Hot like Gold
Coast fires / petrol dragons' breath
(She's a mockery
Of the word -- revelations
Turning
Now napkins and coasters
Tissue for ****** noses.)

Vagrant vespers
In the dark
she lets the men
Inside her double wide

Inebriated bruises
Polka dot excuses

Even in the city
It's funny
How the homeless can hide
Out in the open

Escape...
Indigent / outcast
Trailer trash
Minutiae boy

Barely half / Life legally blind
And lucky to be alive
Still in search of
Some kind

Home.

Numbing

Numbingly

How a sad Singsong

Floats on along

In search of harmony.

Numb-ing-ly.

How I’d suffer

This miserable life with you,

Sour **** Lemony.

No song of suns.

Numbingly

I float along.

Numb.

joe —without his legs,
Wheelchair, bedside G.I.
At a meeting
Ruminating and feeling
It’s like A.A.
Rehabilitation games
The system plays War
Craft with missing halves
PTSD R e s p e c t
That ain’t the half
Of the stink and the taint
Sniffing glue
Replacing chipped paint

Joe only worries
If there’s somewheres
To be
After rehab
Need a Lyft Uber quick
Downtown a ton to do
Joe worries arriving in 12 steps

Sponsor anonymously
Befriend responsibly

Joe worries
Like long time buds
His legs
That they won’t work
Like they did back when
He got laid
And was paid
By way of Vietnam
And ****** Uncle Sam.
Joe worries

Of wheelchair accesses
His favorite places without
Doors he’d like to
Fit in
And go on
Normally
Accepted
To be loved like a brother
That no one knew
And no one seems or cares to

Joe feels like
A third wheel
A phantom limb
Who’s bucket list is to
“Invest in the Google”
“Learn how to use
The cloud”

The Bronx in the rain:
Slick city stones'         Sovereign somber gloom
Oh late afternoon!
so overcast with the blues...
     Navy : leaves of tinsel sheen,
     Midnight : music and
Sapphire
Jazz         /dancing shadows
beneath light-post misty
gold.

Outside, the bricks are just bricks
but down there, mon frere,
lo the lovers' tight embrace
in the fallow light showers
catching all eyes keen to their PDA
as well as mine wide
Flatscreen
Attention...
Peliculas and tall stories
From a brown stone perch, traffic whirls
           sleep now hurries
the city slow as thunder rolls
loud
On blacktop oil slick roads,
heavy as the gutter water on
asphalt / streets’ cold bones
Like this town’s prehistorics;
When Time stands still
In lovers hallmark corners, there
In **** shacks
All wet in the gills,
fish kisses taught kids
how honey smacks
now that the audience is frozen
With anticipation,
Wide binocular eyes
                      View snapshots with captions
Options
It’s a real Banksy / real lives...

Monet meadows of skies
        raindrop brush strokes
                            chaos maelstrom
     Wet dreams rivulet

All the while I am
Dry inside
With humid anticipations,
At a pause / intently / intensely
watching
               neighbors in hooded moods.
This reminds me
how it must of felt / now
in this commotion
by mere emotions
so reminiscent
of the artists’ weeping dreams
         wordless scripts
scenes not unheard
While
inside I'm still dry and
        dwelling...
In need
is it Wish that spurns?
Still, in this stone      dwelling
I am dry inside
    Trying to hide not
           Not looking down
Aye dios mio, oh those two
      love birds
In their gossamer glow

Oh how I drown
when they finally kiss…

It’s not envy
But a sort of empty
drowning
Myself without,
Yet feeling
Their kiss so loud.
Such is empathy,
Drowning without...

*** is This, and who the ****
Is Chris? Is this Who you’ve been with?
The “down-low” kind of wind,
Out in the Ether listening in
To cheaters, killers, ******
“She’s like the wind”
Your love is a fickle thing,
What ev’s, I know my Tomorrow
Waits for me there
This must be a detour
What’s to learn from this
A momentary lapse of thought,
Blink blink wink.

*** with that kiss, Judas! ?
Yo bro that’s no bueno, being dissed
By thee who assumed too much of me
This is a flicker in the hummingbirds’ wings
We passing things passionate
By the feelings fraught with Disingenuous
   misinformation
   is more like
An honest mistake, not that serious,
But those whose intentions
Are —divide to conquer,
(Good liars are the worst)
All life gets plundered, we mean
Nothing to them, vice verse.

But these playing fields we **** dry
Diminished by human wishes
Themselves to please, they all Lie
Only we are the chosen to
Tend to what was once a garden
I thought everyone should know

Eden is the War-zone
X marks
The End friends on
The playing field, *** is this ??
From a virus to a virus
Men and germs
Infecting worlds and aye
I know my Tomorrow is
Not me today,
I know but not really
Know where I’m going after this
*** happened to
home ? Love ? soul?
Chris?
Am I all alone in this
A So called Eden.?

When the question is

You

Who will answer to you,

For you

No one else can do

What you can —for you.

If you have to ask

Time is what

You have.

In due time, you’ll know

You

Purposely Livin’

Purpose full of life.

Where are you but where you

Stand

When wakes your soul/in mind

3rd Eye, white light,

A door to Beloved

Days in the life of

Who are you?

When the Question is you and yours,

I hope you answer yourself

True.

But why are you

Who you are,

Truth is self evident

Oh say, can you see

What I see

You see, there’s no question

ILoveYou.



(By the dawn’s Early Light!)