It’s messed up when your parents
Blame you for someone else stealing
Something that belongs only to you,
Rather than empathize they assail you
With demeaning language, belittling
Your already damaged ego.

“It’s your own fault for letting them in”

Whoever said that being a good host
Wouldn’t have consequences, living
In this reality. Still in the dark ages,
Where’s the Light?

Having a family is like ruling a kingdom,
With all that comes with the crown
Respect and Trust,
Don’t dismiss the importance of
Love.

Men who are unattached or single
In hopes of fly by lip service.
Stand underneath it, rather than mingle.
Toasts to family and new year’s arriving,
Leading to secret Santa gifts dividing
Evening to morning’s inebriated light
Twinkling with holiday cheer
Obese with feasting, eggnog-beer, and snowball fights.
Elves run past, avoiding such kisses, downright.

A fickle friendship
Perhaps imaginary,
Don’t gamble the Rent.

It’s too Hoochy
With too much *****
Twerkin’ daisy dukes
Babydoll girl work!
What else can Boo
Brown do for you?
Holler back
Girl
Hoochy
mama tootsie roll
For whom the bells
Toll to pay
to cross
The bridge,
At the end of the day,
Upon your ledge.
Too Hoochy to fly away...
Soul is an albatross
Be light
Stay chaste.

3 a.m. Christmas Eve, the air is crisp,
the cold cuts neat
like the sweat that turns to ice,
a cold t-shirt underneath
thick sweater don’t suffice.
Like lost soles of homeless feet
trudging west,
walking the streets
3 a.m. Christmas Eve
No family, Santa, Jesus
to believe / (the reality of concrete)
The air is crisp,
the tears retreat
the long walk home
3 a.m. Christmas Eve...

Children crowd the fence outside Mactan Airport
Eager ***** little hands, reach out, malnourished and tanned.
Beggar women outside the cathedral with disfigured limbs,
Utter prayers in Visayan, selling thin homemade candles there.

Going Green all the year round

Leads to strikes from tree-huggers wound

As road raging Cadillac runneth them over.

Cold winter melts as fishermen over plunder.

In our human chapters of hubristic excuses,

Earth fracked, death by corporate Amusement.

Races all face mother nature storming in,

Slow still drowns with the Hare… better learn how to swim.

I find sleep quite amiable
less resistant
after touching
The timpani of tigers
like prowling
Your other jungle-wilderness
It’s my undoing
after we have done what we did

Physically akin
Our own skin held close
Mingling / our tender cooing
Gooseflesh shivers
Birthday suits all
Aquiver...

In the miasma of life's (bowels)
howling, bowdlerizing
the sensations of our
everyday heaven.

I find sleep more pliable
after a swim in you
and I taste myself
in the salt
of our commingling
skins
Tingling

Newly
swathed in mouths
and primrose
fragrant waterfalls
thunderclouds
A deluge

Of Seed & Petrichor
in the aftermath
Of our victory
The ******
within and about
our dance of skin—I am washed away
a tiny death
a cry to heaven

I am naked
when you're not clothed on me,
how strange to need you to swim.
I find dreams much better
aloft
my second skin...

C inch the boys in their place,

O bjectified / at attention,  indecent propositioning

C rows those proud chicken hawks loudly.

K illng the blood-flow, *****, at a stand still.

R idgid hoses, denying it

I rrigation or relief

N either giving it room to breathe

G orged on ***,  in a pulsating noose...

They go to Chase bank
Since weekend tail’s expensive.
Boneyards of neon.

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.

We outgrow our homes,
Moving on up, penthouse suites,
Or shopping cart roads

We fit in boxes
A shell of comforting walls
Apartmentalized

Rent to own abodes
Timeshare of lives all alone
The walls we’ll outgrow

To stand on clean sand
The Beach on clear nights, star-filled—
Soul outgrows the hand.

I wonder how Trump must feel, losing his house,
Right about now families suffer the cold
I wonder if he’s familiar with empathy,
Fallen in apathies, feeling simply
This is what it’s like…

I tell my mother
That it’s bullying when they say **** like
“Might as well pack up now I’m filing for your eviction”
**** like that, in a time of COVID,
You must file with the Court for assistance.
I don’t need to tell my mother
How to fight the hatred,
Struggling to get by
One way or another,
This is what it’s like…
(Thy neighbor as thy brother?)


The caustic relationships we **** ourselves to have,
As we keep the dust swept under the rug,
As we’re drained of our chi, convince ourselves perhaps
It’s meant to be, friends to the end of our childhood,
I’m exhausted hoping that you’d keep your word
Adult friends learn common curtesy during
childhood, ya know

Now I’m grown and what I know is —
         There’s someone you know standing out in the cold
Waiting for the bus, close to midnight
And you’d rather drink and ****,
My apologies, I don’t do either, mothertruckers.
In the desert it’s a must to sweep out the dust
Last and final warning,
Cold waiting at the bus —stop...

Unfolding...

I am mourning before the dawn
unveiling
crumpled bedspread sheets
a hollow space
where comfort once found
your slumber deep,
I find an echo
of your breath
as my tears interrupt
a yawn / a stretch

while trust feels like a home
invasion,
a **** save for the flesh...

I am a trail of moisture
upon the cheeks, the searching
throughout a graveyard home
yielding empty halls,
bleak,
of no fruition / a tomb;

I am the ache within
Darkly,
My harsh and sordid
imagination / disambiguations
roaming
To thoughts of you
in someone else's fever
a slicing cut that opens
and equals that pain

unleashing avalanche of blood
but it's only a crimson thought
which floods,
again & again...

I’m in that home, now
kept unkempt
like the dust on portraits’
sepia gloom… and
the sound of bare feet
clapping
hardest upon wooden floors

In a saloon
lacking conversations
without a care taken
of why / from where / or whom

I once had strength
which waned
Like the more ocean waves
punch the cliffs and shore,
my reserves began again to drain.
I collapse into bed,
On pillows, lay.

I am the hope which wants
what once had breath before
Long ago
the loud cry— begotten prayers
to ancestral sky
fearful Old hearts and minds
One’s life alive yet
Afraid
to die….in due Time
           
I am a tomorrow of love yet made

inept of any trust
I have been blind told to break...
(My iron will to rust)
I am alone
since gone are those yesterdays
you romanced such secrets
with escapades
(grinders found in spades)
I am the hush that must escape
never getting to know
the calligraphy & the colors,
all the facets of love's very face,
unfeeling
replaced

I am a violin
from some distant space,
far and away
a wish
a yearning
as California’s burning
whilst
Asking kindly

Love me
if only
for the sake of today
for I am
lonely...
for I am the light
each night

unfolding...

In desire we see ourselves twice
Once through the eyes of another,
Without the guise of needfulness
within the lies of forsaken fodder
In desire, **** finds boot, point blank
Point moot.
In desire discover your truth...


Love is like stepping in ****,
Or a bird dropping on your shoulder
Consider yourself lucky.

A ****** leans
Against the bricks,
Gotham gothic walls
Left thumb hooked on a pocket of his
Faded denim jeans
Right hand caressing a carnation
Steady

Ready to go
Mr. ****** in a James Dean glow

Mean
Black leather jacket
Shiny slick like
Ghetto pothole puddles
Wet lacking rain

Only street lamp
a Spot light on
Backstreet dangerous
While gigalo leans
A flower for Ms. Green

Come hither squeeze

He awaits
There in the sallow
Glow
Another shadow
Against the bricks
Graffiti biography
Cannon spray paint art
Masterpieces
Within all our living scenes

He’s Cool as concrete rain
Patient as evening tea,
Passing moments
A Smiley face
Honest sculptures of Race
Poetry is exploding
Street Gleam in 3D
Looking sharp

Art full / appreciating
brick walls
The breathless wolf
In his low ****** lean
Worth noticing ?

Life's but a dream
/ a living work of Art.

(For Banksy, I heart…)

E is for the Evenings I fall into your Eyes,
Every kiss and Embrace,
Each breath exchanged, I recall your taste.
E is for the Elegance of the echo
Of your touch, the embodiment of an ache,
E is for the Eloquence of that hush
Every dream I wish to wake,
Or love to finally make...

Idle mind ponders
On times wasted, how our hands
Like devil’s playthings.

Is it a sin to self gratify...?
Until the lower third eye spits glue
All thru the night
Madly rapaciously lascivious you

Almost desperate to find
Even when we were warned
Likely to go blind
Symptoms of a hairy Palm

When one can't come close
To transcend or feel
The ethereal bliss that glows
In the love made real

And there's no one worth it
To waste such sighs
Is it as sinful as unwanted births,
or better to self gratify?

A dangerous thing:
Inspiration’s fragile wings,
Metamorphoses.

Pregnant father sways.
Rocking chair to ocean’s gait
champions patient race.

Broken pieces make
the cathedral of your soul.
Stained Light still shines through.

“How Divine! Such Grace!”
The Word cannot embody,
Ballet when God speaks.

Spring morning blossom,
floral crown on tranquil pond;
She walks on water.

I’m the old man, and the sea is the blank page before me, journeyless Journal, a so-called life to script, “Dear diary I’m the ****...”
    Oh how shall I drown in the words beloved, absolute the depth, the breadth of one’s soul. It’s Worth... While men die never to capture immortality, legends rise while spoken as freely upon the wind, the worthwhile songs some weep to feel how the greatest love feels ...
        Life .  Like an old man upon that sea, drowning to know love. (god)

Purpose.

Date night & starlight,
as we caress the hours
streaks across the sky.

Play the long game to have deeper meaning
To live fully being human being
This mortality of flesh & feelings
To truly see
Your life
Without Doubt
Love is what life is about...

Peacocking with Carnivalesque gyrations in leather
A machismo macho man fearless in boa feathers
Nubian jazz queen’s big Afro up doo, her nails did too.
Alpine foxy ski the white slopes bundled in chinchilla minks.
Charisma as vibrant as its dance, birds of New Guinea...
Hubristic fandango of Saturday night club kids
Eschewing their walk of shame, stained taints of train wrecks...

If worship is to Love,
As *** is to Lust
Why has church on Sunday
Become whispers of vespers
Fear mongered full of
Prayers?
If Love is to worship,
Who do you love enough
To die for?
*** is to lust as
Coffin is to a graveyard pit
Love is worship don’t get it twisted
Hail Mary hallelujahs
Praise no over lord
Your soul...?
Live a good life.
Be.
Peaceful.

O Crescent Moon

In the heights of Midnight

So bright, so still

Across the night sky

As daylight and forests burn

On the other side,

While here I am on Earth

Gazing up tonight

“Beautiful” I cry

A drowsy eye shines!

O Crescent Moon!

Do you see my love in the dark?

So still across the stars...

Among these godly spires:

Hot streets that gleam
harvesting
tourists from afar
pockets romancing
neon ***** and slots

our tables laid out to serve them
sliding doors and rollercoasters,
they are all ours

i dwell in its butterfly wings

with others who have stood
the fat rain and desert hail
in spring time
Crackling skeletal skeins
of lightning

Oh life, i am on-watcher...
blind from the sights,

sleep stealing summers
heat so disfiguring,
no longer listening
to cassettes in the car
melted like Dali art

the sun is a horrible comedian...
our winters are kite killing
my nose feels as if locked
by Samsonite
Winds wailing below freezing…

Among these lit boxes
copy cats and volcanic hopes
Mirage
through trials and tides
of creative construction of yore
most still stand *****

gambling on dreams
on days unkind, here i am
being pitied
a unicorn

losing / winded / coming out un-even
alive tho trying
to enjoy / her
admirable rivers of new
peoples and foods
fire-breathing signs
she has many stories up
beneath
her evening skin
& cold silver teeth

while i am young
she flashes me
underground
and
glowing candies...

Las Vegas

is my Grease-Lightning
and seductive Sandy.

These names of prey
In “His Name” they pray
Men name
The products on the shelf
Hot dog / Burgers
Bacon / obits.
Illegal hacks
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.

Epic… currents from a frozen heart,
tales, obsessions
A wrenching, unfreezing fist
raising sails
Like molten summits of emotions

To know one's own deepnesses
One's own submariner seas
How to breathe in it:

Darker trenches / squalls / the uncharted
Abysses alien to airy rowan cliffs and breeze
The cold of it lacking breath

Tho' Open sky, song of suns
Warms the flesh of its perception's anchor
Certainties
Tides
Symbiosis

The Brine

From icebergs of inexperience
To thirsts quenched
As Droplets
Borne from glaciers
Dancing ice

Drift
Rinse
Worlds, mine
Like ships in the night
Silhouettes in passing
Upon romancing
Skyline starlit moon
For the shadows since denied
The doubtful fall
These journeys now I choose to suffer

Thaws all such icy
Fears
In winters' noose
And from loss of strength
Sojourn hearts
No longer sharing
Meiosis breaths
or sail upon the truth

Accompanied
No one there—

Now singing sirocco
Aye aye captain!

Across the vast places
Frozen with no names
And arctic with none to blame
Map-less voyages of
Nautilus
Ahoy, Sir Loneliness!
Shameless
To Desolation, go—

A life cage,
If mine
Banished
On Tundra of time

Stalactites

This,
My own unfreezing
By simple choice, sublime.
Captain kid again, all mine
Joy the light
Truth my life

My whale of a ride
****
Epic.

1.
Poetry is
Writing what all we felt
When the heart is asked
To translate.

Poetry is
Love,
Made malleable
Through the eyes
Which behold beauty.
Poetry is Life,
The love of life, malleable.
Poetry is meant to be
Touched by
To be moved by
(and with)
Love...

Poetry is
A song of words
A dance of exuberant emotions
A Grace
       Full of gracious
(a)  Lover's kiss.

Poetry is
Jump for joy and stabs of sorrow
Sculptor Singing Sepulchers
Molding nights & days
A mash up
Into one and the same
Something brand new
Reinventing
Recollections
Of / For / To  - You
True blue or Red hot stuff
We lie to believe in
Ourselves
Something better / New
Flower Love Child
You had better
Best believe
Poetry is
You.

2.
It's not what you're looking at,
But what is seen.
What you see / what you feel
In the zeal of heart's appeal
A beautiful up-lifting
To artistic heights

Poetry is
Mortality made miraculous
Charisma and magic
Choreography of verb / Oh's Of nouns
All the world - a profundity
Of Our lives
Whether lost or found

The Love letters / in red envelopes
Your heart
Crowd surfing
Amongst the herd;
Blossom bouquets of passions
Poetry is

The quietude and secrets
Kept
In the shade
In a home, a warmth made
Or an ode to a glade,
For the night
Of the empty souls'
Respite

Poetry is...
Your bleeding heart
Shining bright
Your Grace
An invisible light
Only to be seen
By knowing
One's true
Feelings

Poetry is
A Painting
Of Love's loud moments...
It's not what you gawk at,
But what is gleaned.

Poetry is...

After the preaching’s
Done-finished
Picking at the scabs
Of our guilt,
At week's end / day of rest;
Just when we almost had it
Bygone / Forgotten
From our minds
           It's a kinder kin to amnesia
A softer fog of fugue,
A healing art of our brain farts,
Not soaking in shame's
Diminishment,
Or stewing in self-helps.
"Deliver us!"      (bow down genuflect)

But then again
Here we are together to gather
Uncomplainingly
Complacently listening
Absorbing every lash
Of the metaphorical whip,
To be guided back to good
Such sermons for the flawed
humans that we know
We are -- unworthy...
But willingly we suffer
The word.
Oh how to be just like
The lamb...

So now, afterwards, when we have been
Emotionally & verbally punctured
Full of hollow
We are holes unworthy
Of being
Made whole...
Or so, we've been told
"It is written."

Now then let us meet for
homily
After King James harangues us
His version of fellowship,
Let us have verbal
******* with the word.
(Begotten?)
Perhaps over supping
Or during beer & NFL
Or some blood
Sport
Non-emasculating,
Reminding us how
Weekends roar
And Life is
Worth more
Than the inner wars
We are ourselves
Fighting.

After the sermon,  
Let's have true verbal
*******...
(Without be-getting a shred
Of guilt).

Caducous leaf from the face
Of the great oak woods
Who’s breadth is our breath, green

One moment turns seasons
To barren earth, deplete without droplets
Tears after deluged prayers
Each word a falling leaf
Followed by many Caduceus’
White sheep of Scientology,
Wealthier by way of grief...

Caducous abacus quantifiable belief
Rather than mana
Dead presidents in the baskets
Sidewinding through the pews
Cadences of inner truths
Suits in caskets...

Whispering confessions tenfold
Asking for forgiveness, pay the toll,
Ulysses, Lee in the Collection till
Caducous, go, Atticus
Abacus masses, California fires,
They believe in another green

The falling leaves empires
Made it rain, “precious” is on stage.

Fall
Before reaching spring
Steel our heaving
Barren winters still
Landscape without Breathing
Plant your seed
Atticus
A Caducous Leaf
In August

Sunlight
Moments Afire
The length of love
Infinite among The stars
We mortals
In our Dark...
Night.
Retired

Too soon to sleep
We falling leaves
Whose breath is green...

Get on with your Bad self

Go on with your Hustle

Into the bustle

And the gristle

Briskly

Frisky

Grizzly world...

Go 'head find and get that paper

Let your greenback wings unfurl

Telling you who to be

Made

So dapper...

Go Rise above

But still only talking

'Bout what don't matter,

The Unfathomable

Kind of Love.

Still wrapping

The turkey in a noose

Letting bullets loose

For hundred dollar shoes

Shoes!

Shoot sure 'nuf!

Time to wake up / this close to the Sun

Waxin' & Flossin'

Ill prepared to Rise above

Pretending to exude

The same kind

Of Love...

You

Go'ne now...

You Dawg you - A "g"

N-word y'heard in Everythang

We trust

Go'ne muss it up!

I just must know

(My boo)

Didn't you?

Give the World

This Life

Much Love?

Fire in the sky... Fallen

Too high

At dusk.

Gone to fly into the eye...

(Kush)

Beach city by the cool sea
not so easy city
not too busy, too ******, or greasy city

to take off
your shirt
to feel the breezy city.
Where I am
curiously lost in,
excitably exploring eagerly
Asphalt-hard city  
different from my boyhood memory,

It’s not so scary-big city,
Was a great place to grow-up
kind of city
open roads for bike rides
on my schwinn,
A safe suburban city
By the sea,

A successfully savvy
sophisticated city
evolved from understanding
Historically
Downtowns Pity
the fools illegally crossed,
O’er border walls, while
Chaps are diggy
In the Navy city,

A city of girls who can be
as manly and boys are as
pretty, gritty
city / of individuality
like a quirky
cousin, *****,
A brotha, niece
with Cali.-valley speak! city.

There’s so much i want to see,
learn and believe in
this lush green city,
i am a long lost twin city
just a baby,
friendly city, ******* your full *****
city

care for me daily,
wish me luck a lotto city,
even in my muck and ****** ditties,
unconditionally cradling me
with love
this LEGO city
In crisp morning fog,
californication
Tour sea world and the Zoo,
Old town wanderlust
While Carmen’s on the trolley.

San Diego by the sea,
I Heart you
City
in my blood,
this city by the beach
This city
that I love...

A Buster is busted.

Figuratively disfigured

Mayhap way he speak?

Not just slow

Cuz he got flow

Figured out the Hustle

Keeps on and on and on and...

"This **** Life—brothas Broke!"

Sweet Swisher Blunts

Swish and stunted swoosh

Jumping hoops

(For who?)


Busters are Busted.

Vigorously. Voraciously.    

(Or rock-steady Kool)

And the gangs’

Got gats & silks

Tommy-guns Polishing

(Head like a hole...)

Our whips.

Our babies.

Our Peeps

The War / The Streets

The Word itself, asleep...

Sweet Tea at the ready!

They're thirsty in

CHi-Raq.

Streetwalker quickstep
In knee highs
Click clack tap tap
On the fly
Her cacophony echoes
Down the night’s hollow alley
Cat caught by black
Cadillac
Hurry on in
That pimped out coffin
Streetwalker
Quick
Steps.

You say you fly

I say you’re high

Don’t even try, you just a duckling

Ugly hide please hide the **’s

Making babies cry, your face don’t know

I say you’re high

When you glamorize mass ******

school shootings

No coming back from this yo!

Acting hard to hide you / fearful

Child these dem streets, Tho’ tearful

Flabbergasted master faker, on the DL

Fugly mocking us - howdy **!

Don’t deny or say it’s fine, bro

If we’re still ****** struggling,

For something kind in everything.

Feel so low from getting high, a muggle ill

Broken system kills

All low or high hopes

Softly Or loud Apollo from The ghetto

like A show Of shadows hunted, marked

Blank tags on toes.

On New moon nights we're all dark,

But what about your heart?

Got soul, but lactose intolerant.

Hollering beauty Within feel not seen

dim lit neath twilight glow...

Don’t ******* me and say nothing - no.

I still say you’re high fo sho.

“**** Fugly mugs on drugs and everythang…“

Why oh why

Speak /Lie / or Trust?

“That’s life” Sang old blue eyes.

To Vegas or bust...

Don’t cry / **** / do or don’t

Then again ... (Pop pop pop! Goes the cop)

****!

(You’s All ****
Fugly!)

Means War Fosho..

MmmMoan.
Y a w n.
Purrr...
How I adore our meanderings.

A Morning of misfits

Love waking to the sturdy fur of you,

Sac, pecks, abs, inner thighs,
unclad body heat.

Tho' the world outside feels absent,
your hardness
your breath
Is present
Against yesterday's 5-o'clock
shadow.

We breakfast on such sensations satin
thousand count threads
sifting and gripping sheets
creating silken
dunes of flesh creamy hues
soft mounds our twist
tied
tethered limbs
then opening passages with kisses
and humid licks
our lips:
camelback & cobra songs
to Sahara
Heatwaves
where we worship obelisks
until slumber
has rendered us
stardust and sphinx
Amused and fused our flesh
in hymns
this Sunday morning

I am
Stretching with both my hands
behind me
Clawing
buttocks raised (waiting for rain)
as if to be seen & named
one creative breath
Sunday's schooling shame,
yearning for his embrace...

Heaven forgive me
for the heaven he gives me...
Now
Exhale Olympus
Our Fallen pillars
hush.
Good morning, Love
I am

Stretching.
Eyes open wide
Stretching
Reaching out
Behind me
Reaching out for you
(Inside me)
if only briefly
knowing
the whole **** Truth…

(How I adored our meandering.)

Poor Mrs. Sincere Lee
Stares longingly at a frame
Gilded gold and empty
On her wall
Once a portrait of her younger face
If only her wane and fading
Mind beneath her thin thin crown
Of silver white,
Could she remember
Nimbly
If she could only resite
Brush stroke memory
Back to life

Since thoughts have drowned
In misty loss
Her youth and summer gowns
Gone to distant shores
From regretful ocean of forgotten
Melting days before
Like Salvatore Dali clocks mocking
Time in dreamy lacquer.
Her emotions turned against her,
Enemies at the door,
Draining the vivid Now demurer
Most recollections are merely
Half together sewn no fervor,
But Waves of ups and downs
Cast away in an album of
Forlorn, her own war
Old timers Alzheimer
Fading to devoured
Mindless hours staring
As colors fade to
Frailty to
Deathly
Darkly / But only a black
Black door...

She recalls her own demure lil curtsy
She was as loyal as a pet rock,
Still she stares at the blank canvas
Rather than the dawn on the dock
Frozen in the lack
Of having not known nor found
Someone
More than this
Silent dame of down,
With more to her than some
Husband's name
Mrs. Sincere Lee in her pink
Lingerie
Can only stare not at the painting
But it’s decaying frame…

With a thinning crown
Of silver white
Of wish of need of crave
The days without an empty canvas
Or her sentence
of self blame
Time is leaving her
Frozen In such hollow canvases
Not angry but a foggy haze
And a wrinkled touch of
Shame.

Ennui.
The trenchant ocean
Burns with out a flame.
Truth is a light
Love guides your way.
Forget me not
She says, to the ocean
Why stay...?

Kismet weaves itself among the lovelorn fevers

Across the divide of pedestrian Concrete rivers

Mute concerns of romance drowning in crowded ******

Asphyxiated hopes regurgitated Worshipping...

     Solace now a missing person on the milk carton
    
     Wrought with wish or promises by kept patrons

     The teeming of empty kin, lies white in the eyes

     Restlessly the hatred settles like dust, sins silently cry

Inside the place we should hold true

Is as absolute as the days the ****** rue.

In the pit of our shame, emptiness that hurts and mutes

A hell they can preview: the nothing they fall Into....

Social Distancing.

Can’t be social being six feet apart,
To be social, one can’t be so distant....

In the silence of our melancholy,
all presence stands still
So still that you begin to believe
you can’t move your limbs,
spilling your body onto the floor, given up.
In the silence of our sadnesses.
Struck

**** androgynous
‘‘Twas both the feminine’s mister
‘‘Twas our senses all a fuss
**** together the both of us
Music whispers
Kiss. HersHis Fin the kid.
**** what been did.
Love androgynously.

(Piece at Peace.).  I am Beatnik.