Sweet Babygirl, the world’s become
Mean
Hey daughter where you been?
What you love above
House & prairies?
I see you down with it now
Trickin’ your treat
Mean
Muggin’ Mad *******
Taking a beating
Drinking with bruises
Numbing
Until her eyes can’t see
20/20
Mind can’t think
Stuck on black
Sweet baby girls
Gone sour.

The older elders have their superstitions,

Tiny rituals they keep under their breath

Spitting

Wards & incantations

Sweep of broom stick, and what the hex?

Is Grams commanding demons

“In the name of the Father

And his son Jesus!”

“To get out of this house?!”


We all have one of those…

The lost cause / loose cannon

Black sheep first cousin

Into *******, or something unacceptable.

Perhaps their smell or appearance?

But with all the many different kinds

Of races of people / faces

Painted, pierced, gold plated,

We are biologically similar

The Homosapien kin

Bleeding tribes, clans, houses,

Fathers and sons

Who believe in war for the higher cause$

All above us here below

How does that way of living persist

When the world dies in

Misunderstanding...?


But we tolerate our addict Uncle,

Alchy parents, ****** aunts

Lost siblings on

Suicide watch …  

Because our humanity for family

Shouldn’t change what our eyes must see…

Can’t push brick mansions

But we all can climb those very walls,

It’s how we do family

(Together standing tall)


Love accepts without opinion

Without doubt or regret

No hate to have dominion

Peace be (Unconditionally)

And All the best.

How we do...

Can't remember

the last time I made love,

not the quick unarmored ***

gasping in a Friday night urgency,

tearing off clothes

with tiger-teeth and monkey-hands

no, making love:

like a gentle wash cycle

of lips on shoulder and nape,

simple looks of consenting thirst,

gorgeous shape of muscles

sifting into one another

glued in a slow, deliberate,

delicious dance

no conspiracy

no ulterior motive

but to know each and every niche

the highways of sweat and skin...

Can't recall exactly the date

of that last time

but I remember who

and I know how,

still remember those heavy eyes...


His searching hands between my legs


hot breath on my neck,

****--how that had made me melt:

considerate fingers playing deep blues

on my side, of my ribs,

rapacious thirst of oceans

dissolving into my august body

discovering sensitive spots to linger wet,

his mouth, I remember

pink caucasian  smoothness whispering

more & more my name - such authority on the kiss



As we become Las Vegas

bright lights & heat waves

hunger no longer an ache or crutch

I can't remember precisely

that last time I've been touched,

when my heart & soul felt

so much,

but I still can remember

the last time

with whom I made

This, like that

Oh! and

How!

He made me

melt...

Honey shiny skin
Hot minutes Mr. postman
Relaxing poolside.

Fake it well and smile,
Tho’ streets hard up life never could.
Company we keep.

Let's pretend I can read your mind.

What unkind words would you not say,
     whose name would you hide?

What places would you flee, in dismay,
or wish to Caribbean cruise to?

If I could hear your love,
what would it tell me
     that I do not already know?
What kind of fantasies would whisper?
Will your fears be softly moaned,
or scream loudly to be let go?

Let's pretend you knew I could
hear deeper all your silences,

     how many flatteries, there, would echo
like broken vinyl,
a skipping heartbeat, a flat tire...on the road…

Would you still lie, if you knew--that I knew,
still believe in them?
Still make me believe you good?
(never telling the truth)

Let's say you could
hear my thoughts... my inner worth...

Would you condemn me and herald my secrets?
Command me for your work
     make me a lackey
     or say I'm crazy
to everybody—a nobody...?

If you could see inside me
or feel my worst hurts,
would you understand \why and how
my heart should burst?

And of course, this is all make believe,
imagination at it's height,
     but true life is another sort
     of his and her stories….

from our minds' eyes
to witness
to be told :  be realized.
And every tale has once come true:
man now
     flying, cloning,
          in rockets to the moon,

I'm sure my fiction will be
written soon, if not already
In that book...

what kind of mood
“He” must of had when craving
King & Koontz
the idea of me...
           (and “god” knows who)
scratching chin
his beard of white
in a bowl of crocodile tears,

playing pretend,
and silent night
our living years...in a sigh.

(No need to read your mind
I can feel your lies, goodbye.)

What is a man?
Who shapes his words
                      His worth
Like the loudest shouting
Empty with meanings?
Manifesting a destiny...

Who is the man
We all look up to
When it is the Sun’s shine
The days arise.
How can a (running) man ?

And where in the dark pitch night
         Where men are blind
Even by their unkept
Word.
What is a man
But a caged bird?
Manifesting ...
Song.

Un-parch and part our seas
of need
                             " Be True  "
All kisses kismet
For your being
In my motives, complex
And your presence resolute
Is like Moses to the mountain
Defiant to Pharaohs
To fleeing as they wail and wretch
       Dry reticent's / fake to make
Gilding what they deem
In themselves as golden truths
A society with no relief or boon
like swarms they only teem
with beauty in masquerade sand
still sly as any thief
With stealthy hands,

A house of cards
All ready for the fall
Weak in their deceits... Replete
Of teeth
and walls...

Build me instead no regret
No slaves / compelled or bade
But choice free to make
In devotion's open season  
Not entombed / embalmed / awe of death
Rather a heart in spades, life with breadth  
No commandments made  barricade
But our names reclaimed instead

No fear of darkness never-was
yet
Alive even in death.
For we are freedom
We are loved  

A nest, a hut, a cave
A tower, skyscraper / a home
Our kiss in the shade
A Genesis
Resurrection roads
The Universe / all oceans of O
Lovingly we will wade

Again and again
inhale
sweet life's rhapsodies
and the rose...
again and again / our song
at the up-most

Understanding without anger or books
Conceding and agreeing
It is all good
This is us
And now in hush
Eyes beyond sight must
Open / See : the Empathy
questions keeping note
asking not acquiescently
In who's company?
Why,  by Love's infinite dynasty
Now know
No one is lost when already home  

Love is much stronger
Is further thrown
Than any tablet made of Stone.
                   " Be true "
And in this moment
Awaken
              (Absolute)
Always not almost
                  Beloved soul …
(So it goes, I choose
In the light no lies)

"Be true"

Moan.
      Y a w n.
Purr.

How I adore our meanderings.
Mornings of misfits, nomads,
waking to the sturdy fur of you,
     pecks, abs, inner thigh
unclad
body heat...

The world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
presently
itching against yesterday's 5-o'clock
     shadow...

We breakfast on such sensations satin
A thousand thread count
sifting in grips of sheets
          creating
silken dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds from our twist
                tied
tethered limbs
then opening those passages
with French kisses
     and humid licks
our lips like
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
           Heatwaves
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
              stardust and sphinx
mused and fused - our flesh again
in hymns
     this Sunday morning...

Less stealth of night but copious
is touch
         slithering undulations
         of parched needs
for us to swim in the hunger of its seas
Since sensing sensual stiffness
     your shifting
            your shaft
my blood collects
    to tighten what is mine within

When this grabs hold of us
like the blinding noon
we forgive
           that it is Sunday
mourn that I thirst for you.


Such thickets of urges
   juicy sweet confection / completion's
masculine deprivation
         half grin half flurry,
                     No worry
displacing thoughts of infection
secure in our relations...

Stretching with both my hands
behind me
        gripping with claws of the passionate
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
      by the gods' - creative breath and shame
           I yearn for your embrace
Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...

Affirmed
as though we were the firmaments
      sky without permission (or air rights)
to fly
comely
and in our rhythmic trance
we become Spartans
(with our war cry)
         Driven
                 Breathing
One defeat
          Shriven as we're falling
One choice to leap.

                          Exhale Olympus
Fallen pillars' hush.

Good morning, Love
   a taste of how Nirvana feels
constellations and the heavenly
wheel.
Stretching.
Eyes open to take in my world.
         Stretching

Behind
Reaching for you

if just briefly knowing
the whole truth...

Strides the stallion proud like so…
Visionary bright in Aviator shades
Each sunrise toward his muse, dust & bone
**** rudeness without excuses made
Gregarious a salesman of gravity, Insider mole,
A Boss—Lady, Or Apple genius (reclusive) *****.
List maker, name taker, A hot exclusive.
I feel you, mr. Guru, your heart’s dream music.

Turquoise reflections
Poolside on a clear day, cool
July Sky so blue.

Remember the puppet that you were

who thought himself
a real boy
still only just a boy

remember
like perusal of hate mail
        their postal telepathy
as though flipping through cellophane
photo albums of many nameless
faces

distant / detached / races

Remember how you had
not known them then
                 floating on airs
ignorant  / clueless / willful
still constantly fair

like May flowers
in pebbled gardens

Yet this life / its tangled strings
Deep sea of trees
(tug & pulling)
with Geppetto's fermented footing
precariously
curious and nimble

that boy was
quite...
           agreeable to a fault

happy to oblige a fly
Try not to waste in thought

But something else
also had its gravity
(pride for tiger stripes)
taunt tainted trite
there within : an invisible string

to keep true
be mindful
be cool
(nimble thimbles cool)
Indian in steel cupboards
searching but not so...
High times
"you will know when you find it
you perpetual student"

open as pouring rain
always in awe of it
                                  all
dismissive of the drowning
Empty can be pain
barely afloat in city-scapes

Boy refusing to grow up
who's dreams are tall
Inside a lotus
Cup of hands
              Lips waits to open
Brown Eyes
         like quiet ripples
Electric wings
A dragonfly on the pond
in our pebbled gardens.

Buck necked,
Dreads hanging on like a cat’s hair ball …
Buck necked,
She tells her moms
On my Obama phone, long distance
Welfare carriers
Pigeon messengers
Yelping life at her mama
On my cell

“They just be different here”
“Auntie, daughter-sister-niece”
With her best pal black
Making promises late birthday gifts
Buck necked
Didn’t even toe the pool water
Long distance in the Ladies’
At least a couple hours
On my Obama phone…

It’s definitely not about me
When hooting & hollering
Mad loudly
Urban jungle jive,
Who the hells this guy
Mr. Old boy push over
A gay
Patiently waiting
For her shower with black
White pizzle steam
Dissipate

Learning to speak up
If we are free
I choose to enjoy my experience
Not the type to be
Tugged on someone else’s leash
What little time We
Dismiss or
Fully embrace

“People just be so different here”

Hi I’m chop-liver, welcome to
My place,
Give me back my phone
Not feeling at all
At home.
Yet she’s buck necked.

They cry turmoil thru my web-pages,
pages on pages of Tribunes and Suns and Times
and Quarterly

"Free Burma!"

it's all turkey and pig-latin to me,
just "dunno!"  like a dunce-capped miscreant,
inept ignorance

A kid
i wasn’t so great at geography then,
i got by before junior high.
Where-the-tarnished-nation is it?

"Free Burma!"

Notice the elephant in the room?
like a whale named *****
attempting to escape barricades
brothers of all of ours
engulfed in war
some ocean somewhere someone is dying;
notice that elephant in our laptops
ivory and blue tooth and i phones
telling me, showing us
to care
i do / want to
we should and we must
yes

"Free Burma!"

will i need to donate a dollar,
two, three? will i receive
a correspondence
of a child i am saving
a face of a country
i'm ignorant to...
           will it's big sad puppy eyes be
commercialized?

i am no less as educated for not
following the strife of thousands
   my own is as heavy here as an orca's leap

"Free Burma!"

what cage, bear or mouse trap
have they gotten themselves
and ourselves into?
if it's anything like Yayo or Martha
business
i have a better "good thing" to do

but if it is
like famines in Africa,
Mendelson, or Tibetan Monks
on strike with kung-fu skills
i will join U2,
(and if she's aware) with Oprah power
activate!
(fist to fist)
"i will be a well of spring-water!"
and she a holy cow, a worshipped saint

"Free Burma!!"

free water
free of fear
free everyone, i pray,
under this sky
wipe away all tears

free you of your worries
free of all chains
free of mines
free of lies and borderlines.

Free to be
together
free to live and choose to see

A planet a place
A peace

"Free Burma!"

Freedom
as one
community.

For you, for me.
Home.
Free...

So, grasshopper....
What is love / to someone who is complaining?

Screaming. Wailing /  Proudly prevailing / loudly Reprimanding
Or commanding Bounded feet
Pushing.
Shushing in rushing / Busiest with everyone else's business
Pushing.

Dumbfounded yet Enforcing.
Forcing / mindlessly
divorcing meaning?

Not knowing /  Rather assuming or presuming
To speak not for himself
Instead for us, lauding law, howling for god

What is it without making / any sense? /
Having no reason?
What is love if only a word /
Sung or graffiti tag on walls / Ave. 3rd / blurbs

So to speak / a word / whispers...
Write or read / Flat screen / one dimensional unexperienced /
Word up /  Another billboard's Loud propaganda
"Unt wonder-bar sinfully delicious"
You will OBEY
Says snickers /
Harangue of commands
The replete of a single word / repeat
"Believe"
On and on / carrying calm

And what is forever to an insect? With brief breath
Vampiric      Parasitic     Abuzz
Without purpose but swarm
Wasted waning /  Locust death Landscapes / we barely notice

Cherish just a starving word

So goes my question / Unanswered. Kept
distant. Unproven / underserved
The point is moot /
What is love  / To you?
Without proof Without life
What are eyes without the light ?
What is love if nothing /  If never born
A mind Emotes  /  oceans / swells /

Love ....
The tiniest of tempests
One thought becomes a storm
Felt Like dreams /  Stars for diamond tears
Energy in living form... now asking why / Are we here?
No doubt It is to know love
And so... What is a good word?    

Truth (the word of god)

So jump for joy, grasshopper...
Being loved is like being found.
Finally seeing the awe and the wonder.
The clarity of a mind's eye,
life is the dream the heart you must plunder.
the perfect time is now
because this is love, grasshopper
and we are the tempest and peace
the hearts who think...

This must be love
Thank goodness/  for everything….

It has taken too many
Years of broken
Beer bottles
Porcelain
Pictures frames on the mantle
And promises to not notice

Mr. Glass is now belching
Mumbling songs off-key
In the kitchen
By the sink and Fridgidaire
To the soundtracks of John Lennon's
Lemonade love songs
Hitching a ride on Cat's peace train
Or manic for the Beatles
(British Invasion on vinyl)
He has lost his collections
Soaked and ruined
From a flood aboard his battle ship
He reminisces like this
Or as a mud person hippy youth
At Woodstock

Even when tucking himself in
My barely and not legal sized bed
Naked, laying with He-man themed sheets
And grumpy bear blue
On my pillow,

I wake to find him
Native and fetal
I am too keen to sleepwalk
So I pretend to
Toward the living room couch
Just the right size
For my eleven year old height.
I don't mind sleeping on the couch,
would rather not get soaked
In Mr. Glass' yellow
Miller time dreamscapes
It would be easy
To blame me, the kid, for bed wetting
After every twelve pack
Every couple of hours,
******* in the sinks, slowly
Losing his six pack
And or his composure
To tell tales, tall stories
To hear reasons why the cat
Ran away with the spoon
The nostalgia of his
Man on the moon...

Mr. Petty officer (1st class 2nd 3rd)
Has rarely lost his stomach
No stink of *****
Or pools of shrink and scram
Marinated in Coors and Budweiser
Weimereiner mountain man
Has his virtues
Or is it a skill?
Mr. Glass keeps it all in
Well
And rocks my sleep
Zeppelin
Half dozing to be fulfilled
I am those nights, nervous
Wreck and awake

Even as he breaks
Down nostalgic in his weeping
My ears become selective
Hugging my pillow
Listening for his fumbling
As he sways and crashes in my room
A clumsy beanstalk
Head in the cloud kingdom
Fe Fy fo falling
Down

Well, it's just the broken harp
No golden eggshells
But porcelain mosaics
Beer cans and wishes
Echoes slurring deep in the well
When he snores
I migrate my mind
Away from his hell
I shrug in silence
To its frequent scenes
Yet in the morning
We both slept pretty well
As far as I can tell
From my father figure
Deficiency

All is
So seems
And he means

Well.

Oh well.

The impetus
                     Of being
Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
                              Those standing by
                                          The mystic roadway :    River
Blue yet to be brushed
                      or in blush
                           Of evening chill's breathing
canvas-like windows dreaming felt
All mindful
And chockfull O'
                              Wonder
Then ponder
                Yonder "window breaks"
                         Past the wilderness' sleep
Bone heavy wood
                             Umber earth

                             Past whoosh and rush of liquid
Folding on itself / a soundtrack

      Listen now
      Pedestrian be

Mindful of the cautionary whales
                                               Old Ahab’s yell
                                  Obsessions
                           Fears
                                   Or loathing.

If one is drowning in one's sleep
Look wildly
                  widely
                              Blithely
                                    Down river  
Or up there beyond finger's point
                      Sidewinder snake journeys
Until sky and below it
All meet

The distance
        Now only a line
                 Coalescing what is beyond
                      Our ability to see
Far and away
    Evanescent
         Effervescent
                     Ever after      
                             River.     Life.
Here
We are proud and
     The free spirit is fluent
           With the rapid rivers loud
                            Always on the run
Currents like a child's curiosity ...
How then,
When or why
                        does it end ?
Where do we go?
                    
Like most things existing,
           Will lead to the high art /
love's deep oceans...
          
We often forget to seek
                              And mind
                                     the sublimations/
                                                            d¬¬rift wood.
Let’s then
Begin with a dot .
A speck of dusk
                     bursts of light
                                        A starry sky,
pieces to mastery

                   Raging fragility of waters’
Unctuous undulations
                    Folding itself in volumes
Or falling from on high
       A droplet cry !

Then flash of lightning
                   (crash or bloom)
From the heavens
                                 like electric rivers
So brilliantly
                   Festoons

Where do we go
With those under toes
       There and here / underfoot /
                   Over north / southern sleep
                                   To oceans twilight deep?
Go wrapped or map-less
Or no.
            Up
                Way
       Up yonder
There up there
                    Everywhere
                    All without fear...

My heart like the river yearns
                 To go toward the sun
                       A flow /
                                     the beating drum
Always on the run
And
     Yet
            Still
                    Here.

Deadliest to kiss,
From deep seas or coral reefs,
Bright colorful fish.

Oceans emotions
Skin dances illumine-speak:
Body says it all.

Excitedly I say once,
"if Love were a substance,
if only more than
some sort of word, more concrete”
“If only”

If rather than heard
in song made wispy or absurd,
instead made bold
in your face
apparent
A freak-show, cirque du taste
such theatrics (once)
those lips—film noir of your thrilling face.

Undeniable you
unabashed like a growth
to the left
a mole on your kind skin
red lipstick puckering miss Monroe
eyes that ooze dreamy

How I always noticed you, once
saying "Ooh look here, this is love"
pointing to that dot,
but i know love is more than
a tiny tiny blemish
(or Marilyn's coy mole).

Like how once, a beauty marked me
with what was quick-draw and newly raw,
touching with much whirling
such were we
openly exposed to...

So wretchedly loud
made so astute
where we partook,
briefly donning heaven in our looks.
hold on to my arms - keep a grip,
Hold on
i say to what was once

Love, heavy as when you
Were letting go,
caustic as your doubts, when
i remember saying then

"look here -- once, this was love"
now just a gesture
where stood my shadow
as I regret
not informing you : "should of
kept your eyes open
during the fall
should of kept honest is all..."

If only love to you
was of some real substance,
beyond misty hours or
something like
the prose of rain to heartache
empty like open doorways of us before
because
once is now
no more.

Beggar’s change buys Black.
Broken system’s open sores,
Homeless flagellates.

Love may make many mistakes, but it’s no mistake to make. Live and learn from every one. That is why and how love grows strong.
It’s true, love is no mistake.

Idiocies, flagrantly rotten hearts, such stupid ****
Numb skull niceties of chumps, chimps pimping us
Serving subterfuge, lucidly playing dumb
In life's dark cauldron now overrun, brimming with
Premeditation and enemy minds, a convict's ***** on the side.
Inception & loss by way of the gun, itches to **** to get rich
Eager harbingers of calamity and pain—terrorists…
Never feels not ashamed, brainwashed school-shooting kids
Crude excuse for players haters games, cheat & takes (life)
Empty of wisdom, belly aching snakes eats tail & world alike.

An Uplifting language

Of baggage:

Poetry.

Some are spoken at waking

Some are felt rather than heard.

The word:

Poetry.

Hundred six degrees
Of mid June heat, while we drink
Chilled mango Pepsi.

Dreams like Redwood trees
Can grow tall, but slowly climb
Children of Gaia.

The onion and the artichoke both have layers,
But it’s the artichoke which has a heart. Don’t marry an onion.

The peach pie he hides,
Bides time like a Rolex watch,
Kept in her pocket.

There’s a sort of hectic language
Life’s inner city airs
The indigent grime, swearing
They do declare
As heated as Vegas summers
All ‘round the block
On the Chinatown Strip
Spring mountain valley view
The homeless congregations
Rolling their luggage
Like albatross droppings
Migratory fixtures
**** white on black walls
Black in white veins
Rolling luggage
Keeping precious metals
Coin collecting, jewelry
The bling and fake gold rings
Anything a ***** can trade
For foil wrappings
Thick with high grade
Napping in the inferno
Silver state of epidemic
Many rolling “carryon luggage”
Goes without saying
That sort of summertime language
Inner city airs
That begs
Help. To differ.
They do
Declare

It should mean war…
But, come again
welcome to our fabulous city!
Sin ain’t fair.
Love is lost here.
And still in herds, in droves
Conventions packed disinventing us
Folk.

Holler from across—way yonder…
Endearments and farewells;
Leporine leaps lithe laughter,
Love letter greetings grandiose!
Open lotus welcomes Sun.

Regret will age you
As old as your “soft-shoe” moves.
Painting by numbers.

Bubbly champagne gladnesses

Lady like, lux limned levity

Infectious smiles all showing

Teeth, Cheshire pearls floating

Happiest and joyful glee

Enamored by your brilliance.

This Experience
An imperfect reflection
Garden of pavements

Broken purposeless
Flightless birds will all look up
Feeling more of sky

Yearning phantom limbs
That Substance of unfeeling
Holes want to be filled.

The freedoms championed
By the long gone days of Old
Had good intentions

Experience still
Makes business of great divides
Caters to the Wolf

We’re the hand which feeds
Mouths eating away the world.
We get what we give.

Certainly
Trust is a ***** pill.
Show me
Your skills at giving
Love
Better made in
Certainty.
Trust is the morning after
Still..

Sisters, brothers
Fathers, mothers
Friends and beloved other
Birds of a feather
No matter the weather
We are here together

We suffer the same
Each of us to blame
The shame of losing truth
Allowing “them” to continue
To set foot inside the gates,
Disguised as though good
Excuses as human as soot
Endangered lives too late
Worshippers of lustful hate.

What is it that motivates
Those of you mindless heartless lifeless
Devoid of love’s grace?
Where for are thou
Oh human kind, racing to
The burning lake
Take take take
Mine mine mine

Who ******* cares anyway?
Just another day we prey
And slay the precious thing called
Life…
No cheese in this maze
Just rats devouring one another
In a cage of do as the Bible says
No questions asked
When all play the end game
Evil sits in First class…

We all bleed in wait
Suffer the same, til the very last
Of the devil’s wake
Witness the time pass
Drained of humanity
Aghast!

The matters of family
As we run on empty
Silent at mass.
Brothers sisters fathers
Fracking strangers and jacked…

Friends fake endearments written in yearbooks

Or until the reunion when age can’t pretend

Many attend only to feel better about themselves

One night to reminisce, pity accompanying  regret.

Now bold to keep hold
of child idle wishes,
when in all a boy's life
the bliss is true with kisses.
Verbose promises mostly misses.
&
What is corporeal is made real
in beloved eyes' appeal
yet just one is giving real deepnesses,
heaven half realized in their weaknesses.
&
A young sunken heart congeals.
Framed in little honest pictorial pieces.


(Can you see the furrowed brow
Consternation crinkles his babyface)
&
No kisses but fish lips in wallet sized b&w
No love lost boys of Indian summer nights
I see with my mind the questions wade
Discovery of Why oh why
“Kawawa mo” sadly see it on his face.
&
In wallet sized black and white, kids in
Photo booth time machine, young trysts
Proof of life, fake smiles in matte finish
Click click flash, wishful first kiss missed.

Why Dream Big Bird?
Why do dreams hurt not come true?
Why do we even, for why try, for whom?

For in the name of heaven’s love
The beauty of Us, childlike and new,
Why do dreams we dream
Evanescence awake
In sleep more vivid and felt more

Laughter, lifts us, afloat
Ashore…
Why not fly big bird
Fly? We specks of stardust
That glitter the night
Space and Time

Colors on the painter’s palette
From wish and perfecting
Masterpiece
Without malice
Yet acquainted with its wars
Vastly we make or forsake
A hearth
Afire
A chance meeting with fate
A most famous hero
A great mandragora
We are as one
Universe from zero…

In dreams big bird
Stars supernova births
Not made
Each sunrise immaculate
In its brilliant worth find
Beloved
See how certain, feel how finely
In dreams big bird fly
While each of us
Children of the garden choose
Fear or shine
How ever brief —just be
Twinkle in the eye
Awe and smile

Why dream?
It’s where big birds fly…

She sells to me
Bittersweet
The symphony of seas of
Concrete
Life
Off shoreline
Timeshares near volcanoes
Sally old Betty
Once sold seashells
Drowned years before
What sold me had me
@ hello poetry:
The other shore
A flight
Amphitheater life
   &
       Home
Seashells on the
Seashore...

Feline glowering
At **** Clowder of Sphinxes.
Felix caught a chill.

(It takes years to...)

Master the virtue of patience, that is why I think
patience is more of a “skill” we can learn to quiet ourselves.

The classroom being your lifetime. (Sound of mind)...

The Big kablam!badabang!

Space and Time they rendezvous
In the sublime light
Deeper Loves Thunder

We spontaneously combust
We are stars
Among the dust
I believe in
The most Beloved

Universe in your eyes
Space and Time Collider head on
Extinguished extinction
Who’s in charge
Leave the blame to
Oh my word!

Alas no room in black holes
Wormswood spaces
No controlling no telling
What could
Do any good
Right about now

I Am supernovae.

I’m burning without
Your fire, your kiss I thirst
April full of Rain.

Love is that silent language between us
Which words misunderstand.

Under Country flag and fried steak tastes

Meaty hooks and ham hocks refined

A morsel of tender cuts fine

Menu for the carnivore splendors

Infused, sauté, marinated in wine…

Whisper to you

The Sweet-Nothings

Of this No-nothing

The point made moot

My whispers with you.

These names of prey
In “His Name” they pray
Men name
The products on the shelf
Hot dog Burgers
Bacon obits. &
Illegals
Wet backs
We the people matters
Of lives
Chinks and Blacks
The ***** stacked
The Street Meat
The Addicts
Shopaholics Alcoholism
The names of prey
We the products on the shelf.

Death is the word that strikes fear in the hearts of men,
Some lose sight in such loss.
Would it be easier to think of it as a door or a box,
Shall we wrap in ribbons like a
Gift?

Family “Face-Time”:
Holding an Apple iPhone,
Sam sung birthday songs.

In King Pigeon Pose
She meditates with eyes closed.
Strengthens inner cores.