Coddled sons become mama’s boys, while daughters get lesser toys.

Quite the romantic who is blind,
Umbrella mind prosopagnosic,
Idealistic Facades masking reality.
Xanthic in meadows of envious poppy,
Over the rainbow starry eyed
Tell daydreamer ****** it’s
Impractical to be so happy-go-lucky,
Chasing utopia in falling stars.

Listening to the ***** din of Sin

City streets

It’s concrete weight after hours.

The window ajar

to let the outside air in

while chain smoking to the whirring sirens'

soundtrack

of harpies' in heels

clucking and squealing

(laughter as sharp as their stilettos)

midnights past

black rubber tires burnt

From black boulevards

vehicular collisions'

sounds stalagmite, metallic

crunch

against the hum of sleeping traffic

signals

this hollow city like a wide amphitheater

with the occasional Harley motorcycle's

Growling thunderous fuss

waking car alarms

               (Loud choirs of infants’ high pitch wailing...)

Yet the desert night's siroccos moan

outside my 2nd floor apt. window,

in dark rooms

where silence is a deep listener

and my mind a curious wanderer,

where the walls

not only keep out

but carry every conversation

in such a cryptic void

a spark is gleaned,

a firefly wisp of an epiphany

we are not separate

you and I

        city and fly

        burrow and groundhog

        dam and ******


we are unread books in dark rooms

waiting for the absolute

truth’s boon

we find

in one another

to be known

to be keenly seen

Igniting past horrors

louder pains

from this city that strips us;

our pages like Window panes

ajar...

No matter how ugly the chapters

we will have known

joy being


Your emblazoned story

is also mine /

Up north & southern highs

swamp willows

breath and sultry kiss.


All humid human wish

Sweating the nights awake

Until dusk is dawn

light draining the sinew,

All screaming sins since

Now made few…


Steaming steeped shadows

shattering length wise

In lieu

On bright carpets made of morning

Green grass and dew

still

our day to be / written New

dream like

fireflies

In dark rooms,

These simple stories

                (a night sky full of story…)

Each light the eyes touch :

Fireflies in dark rooms.

**** dim is the ambience for active bedrooms,
On battery powered candles / Concorde lighting.
The carpet's edges chewed thin like
Receding hairlines
Then he uses me as bait..?

A neglected puppy's teething
Nesting under California
King / Mojo's hollowed cushions,
Keeps him gnawing these nights
Misters and oil burners.

I was mistaken, there are those
That revisit—reacquaint with him.
They must of shared a Starbucks,
As his Sasquatch hands
Rub wet platinum on his old fellow
Bears and their Cubs.
Silicone smooth pets, house boys
Fished from the deep web,
Plagiarizing with their eyes the pleasures
Of Eurocreme,
Bare back dreams, hours heave
The subtitled felatio scenes.

I tell the old man, they only ***
After and mostly when
the guested leave, guises, guilt…
There’s one hovering still
Round bouts quick to mount
To accommodate new daddy’s
Ginger manly worthless girth…

I'll be out in the smoking section
Out at the side of the house
Through the slider door, you know
From off the kitchen dining space
Where he had once
Replaced the table with billiards
For Less of a man friend
and pretend straight shooters
Happy birthday old trooper….

His Android vibrates every time
I take a five to breathe
Chain smoke my self defecating grief
He posts another ad. Pics of vehemency
On Craig’s and bb diseased.

If only you had heard
The vagrant shout / banshee in my skull
For these off the street urchins
left from whence they came;
Plugged in to the internet's latest
(Stoop)
For a place to squat
For winter will be cold *****,
For them to just
Scoot! Shoo! ****** off!

And here I go again,
Assuming that these were decent folk
Come for the holidays.
Between taint and pocket rocket
Wallets drain
When one lets the desperate
Indigents
Free range...

"What's there for dinner?"  
**** chicken heads again?
Same ole same old dope...

Don’t ask what is wrong, when you don’t do right.

On the second and third
In a four story building
A box with white pillar corners
And wide Victorian high ceiling
Windows for an unremarkable space
From the outside, weathered, aged
Old down town curb appeal
Late after hours
Enter the back hit the ceiling
In candy coated
Colored lights
Against plaster white
Walls interiors lasers
Dance galore
Bean bags on the floor
Rave in the rumpus
The Romper Room.

It is difficult to love here
You elsewhere
I’d rather feel at home
in Your Poetry.

The AWKWARD poet (Senryu)

See myself, the Child
Looking with Loves’ brighter eyes
Know not what i see.



UPON ME

Death creeps up
Upon me
Fog-like a heavy blanket
Icy cold lonely
Death looks upon me
A waning aging
Sinking Look
Cold  and Pallid (of a thing)
Life seems Like
Leaving
That Life upon your face
The Pink color
Of Grace…
And it’s Death having moments without
(You)
Upon me.

The skeins — The Dreams
The ray that Time forgets to see
For In-between
You is me
Lies & the spirit, the suffering
In this space
Every surface of our fate
(Break free)
An Ocean of brilliance
My ethereal plane
In your infinite
Your Skies of Deliverance
This moment I repose
Flesh-heavy Life kept
Unkempt—Cold
Recalling the Past
Behold!
A recluse in a box
With jaundiced Light...

FishSparrow swims in the Now
Deeper Skies
Ephemeral Scion
Beyond
All worlds One Eye.

……

Monuments
Gargantuan champions of yore
Over landscapes crowded
With worshippers
Weaponry

Wars
Having Words
Belief
A powerful spark
We fireflies
In the veil of wide night’s dark.

My spirit still / expectant
For more than flickering wisps
Willowing Whispers
Of miraculous man kind
Echoes now lifeless shadows before;

Mortal theories’s grandiose
Yet only infants afloat upon
The profound
Betweens
Go to the river
Oh the wailing for Manna

Oh Mother!
The pain of our own making

Quicksand
The minutes breaking, preying
Predilections swaying
****** in statues

The iron victors
Wield long swords
Riding marble chariots
Colossal fires upon masculine faces
Long gone
The war-cry
Carved
Over landscapes
Crowded with
Underworld
destined
To lay among stone
Hearts with
Shrunken heads

The fade of unremembered
Ghosts.
They leave seeds our fearful
Imagination
Grows

Wilderness in this hollow
Of twilight eyes
Also die

We beget hell without
Light
To tell the tale
Without brilliant love
Starlight fails when hells
All hail

Awe and Om!
Oh Mother!
Make way, the few
Futures shalom
(The Neigh will come alone
Someday soon)

(For Pops)

Poppers and pour homme

Video head crisp

And clean

Thirty three...

Ol' boy's first whiff and whippets

Little balloons

Shaped like eggplant lungs...

Easy now

Inhale until it's banana peel

Flaccid...

Laughable word

Whole situation absurd.

...

Now that I'm cut

Built Body bait

In a glass house

Of men

Stuffed / like a clown car

Their fat lip smiles

Artificial

Canine rictus

Taking whiffs

Smelling blood

In the humid beach air...

It smells like a boy's

First play date

First of everything

Daddy fox hole slings

Party N Play

With favors and favors old men

But I was thirty three

But I was the bait...

It smells like Dolce

And Gabbana

Cabana boys and

Poppers.


(For Pops)

It’s better to wake early on
And experience the moments ahead
Wholeheartedly present

“Early bird catch that worm”
And notice the morning Grows
Feeling yet we forget to glow.

It’s better to know
This is Life
And this is Dying... get Woke

Whole heart & soul.

Even in the silken
folds of Egyptian cotton
sheets, cream colored
Trims of emerald green,
Your endless thread counts
caress me to sleep

Yet

i could care less,
my exhaustion neither
because exhaust is not finicky...
While your house boy collects
Dust & double-coupons
To & for discount
Hillcrest hours
Expensive toy
Boy, can’t breathe it in
When someone else
Is paying
Playing suedo sugar daddy
But the boy is not naïve

Yet
No one knows nothing of him
Voluntarily
A party favor for war-buck’s whim

Yet
the finer things are pleasing, yes,
name brands & the highest quality, sure,


anything that's beautiful evokes the senses
to heavenly realms / needlessness
uncut, craving our envy's delightful cures
yes, it's the sign of the  best life possible
silver-spoon-fed fixations / impressionable
yet, i could care less

what can gold do to my loneliness?

Take me then to rustic restaurants,
unique plastique, avant-garde displays,
shows sponsored by platinum praises
dine on savory talents
of chefs schooled in the foreign flare,
antiques,
designer and pillars for legs of chairs
when we are seated by french or Spanish
accented, italian-gorgeous hosts;

i am nervous to touch the silver-ware & china,
hands on lap, feeling underdressed
Fancy was once
a name of a thoroughbred horse
and i can tell you : i could care less...

(to) purchase paintings, of water-colored races,
space travel prints of captains,
baseball fields on oil-based paints,
a canvas of a life truly lived, in spite
of loss and your will
to have another person entirely
devout to only one, fulfilled;

to clothe me is to hold me with certainty
to never stray, devoting every fiber of one's being
is short of nothing blessed
without a doubt,
without this gold Visa, i'm not at all even
stressed.
Oh and my allowance,
...i could care less...

Take out the trash : unimportant minutes
washing laundry, a grocery list,
self-less favors, my lovely prince
these are my only ability's gifts
with ***,   physical,
physical, let's get
on a tryst / on the last of my loyalty, a kiss
as true as saturated
in bliss this is - close to perfect
i can feel... and i wonder still what my soul is worth
when i have nothing and you're distracted,
strung away by fractal messiness
internet libations and invitations for foxholes
as you creep / as you sling . . .

yes, i am easy to fool
and yet, i still could care less...

However many times i fracture
i continue to adore, my infinite upheaval,
demigod in flesh you are / my worship

it is a curse to love you so
i could care less with what you buy me,
give me heaven sent truth,
instead
ignite me with the power of the softness
of your devotion, unhooked
stars in destined romance & sonnets
a fusion of lust and trust
intertwined
i only care for a simple touch
for some meager time to be near you,
that is what i call divine . . .
i could care less of the golden,
riches are free - never sold
they reside among the folds of lips and nips
on sides and tongue-ride on n*s,
once cold . . .

so keep the bank accounts empty
vacations ? i could care less !
half lies in gifts don't keep me
but in faithful arms,
yes . . .
i am yours completely
gladly and forever / in your power,
in this, our lovely, lovely
mess . . .
always know
you are
always forgiven . no regrets.

Change is our Nature
Natures can Change
Nurture Change by
Being Good Natured.

(Being Good to Nature).

The Scar of shame
Won't leave a mark or
Blemish the skin
But something deep within
Is bent, maybe even
Broken,
Such a scar makes one
Avoid looking at
Mirrors
At it's reflection...

A Scroll Unrolls
When in Time’s wisdom
One learns to let go
The weight of want & need
The insatiable pith of greed
And lust
The beast is yourself
To defeat
The enemy that you trust
When you must
Let go...
A Scroll Unrolls
Not one river to the soul
But all with Love
A Scroll Unrolls...

Tell tale eyes behind dark shades
Enemy to smiling or show of teeth
Xenophobe save for Ace of spades
A novice in a seat for celebrity
Silently learning his poker face.

Horseshoe and Rio casino hosts
Omaha, Draw, Stud games alike
Lady luck for Tilly her fans may hope
During World series chips will fly

Every odd bloke with buy-in plays.
Millions of dollars & bracelet at stake.

Music, electric goosepimples,
Our lips glittering, glow sticks,
Lovely touching in the pitch.
Loose tongues dancing ripples,
Yearning young bodies lit.

"Faith is a story told to sleeping children"

If it were untrue, would you believe in it? How can one really know, the teller could be a liar?

If it is yours (Faith or Story) then to thyself be True.

https://youtu.be/oGYEDquZv5I

Mulling about
The muck
The haunts we are hardbound
Foggy fetal leavings by the sea
Right before the night;
The days of purple haze
Of sallow street cars, gas lamp, amped up
Yet dampened and cross,
Loss of desire...
Pop another oxy-hydro-fire.

To be able
To muck about
With inner abandon
the abandonments deep
Numb battlements   / "Hoorah!"
Semper Fi the pain
Only significant
With derivatives
From ******* plantations
Opioid addiction’s contractual binding
Lingering love notes
A vice grip on idle minds...

So many now that prey
But with a side affect of:
Try holding in your ****
for three-plus days

So as to not feel
Not at all
Not even the rage.
We keep anxiously pacing
Clawing at
Nonexistent strings
We puppets with
A Beast inside our cage
Forgiven by preacher men
Proclaiming to hallelujah
Change.

At war with illusionist-freedom,
The good boys fight for still
A country of patriotic pill poppers
Believing in heavenly kingdoms'
Healing
Secret silent pleading
Because nothing takes away
The pain
Like Hydro Oxy foxy pills

Self medicate down wind of will
If unaffected "consult your physician"
He’s at the edge of the stage
A Spearmint rhino making it rain
For Peaches
From patient list of his *******
The business of lust
Feeding the loss of will,
If you still feel lost -- and war heros sure do
Give them nothing but
PTSD & bad dreams
Machine gun migraines, screams
Pop another pill
Jagged jarhead kills
Softly knocks you off your feet
Black is cheap
Smoke out not to feel...

The muck-about days of
Constipated pains
Reader Digesting heavily,
Numbingly unreal.

Casualty of a nameless waste
That’s his deal / what it's like :
Most fecund
A life on the toilet
In wait for relief…
Get off the ***
Can't give a ****

Like this bowel movement
His heart has called it quits
To all this unholy *******!
Veteran
Patriot
Manhood’s defeat
Damnation

Mucking about...

And I wonder if Dr. King would be proud of Jay-Z --in 2019 became the first African American billionaire? (Oprah not that far behind) while millions more in the populace still work for minimum wage, even white Americans. All ethnicities in our "melting ***" it seems.

What is witnessed on TV is all illusion, political propoganda of American wealth. We're kept in line with lies and promises by corrupt leaders, as the country and it's house on the Hill divides.
We watch them celebrate their picture-perfect lives, millionaires paid by our taxing, happier than we (the people) who fight their wars. Even afterward, the wars here against inequality.

None care to share the wealth, to better lives, not even our education; information's omissions, as the News talks down at us, redirecting our attention to *** changed Kardashians. And most who're stupid believe it, or could care less.

So what now? Who's left to save us, to make things right? When even the righteous churches choose their parties, their money's in no short supply. Profiting off of nature, fracking old fossils fueled by greed, getting richer (even now from legalization of our highs) as the planet dies.

It's MLK Day 1/20/2020, I'm asking why --aren't we free at last?
(And I'm not even black).

Clumsy in Mom's heels,
Curious toddler wanders
Clown-faced, smeared in rouge.

A mind that does not question is an empty ocean,
A night without stars.

A life without fear is a bird in flight,
A heart that feels love is that bird with song--

An inner fire's light.
Passion.

We dapple our kiss
hot with white Zinfandel,

and like the blind groping for
doors, you open me.

Longing for more warmth,
one hearth we coalesce.

Dumpster diver, high school dropout,
Aquainted with the voices in his head,
Far be it the best conversations had,
Takes tea with queens, chesire.

Same old folks' home droll
Cheese & crackers wheeze & whine
"Let us out!" They cry.

2.

What should the heart feel
When love departs?
A sinking, achingly, breaking
Waves of
Lonelinesses : the Hungers of our souls;
Openness, vunerability, blinded
By sickness of obsessions
Adolescent crushes
Each to their own
Detrimental emotions
How do we tame
Or breathe its oceans
How should the heart sleep
When we deny it
The filigree of
Feelings

From imperfect
Worshipping machines
Blind moving flesh
Sooner laid to rest
Non-transcendents
Unloved.

Body and soul,
Life is the dress.
To Love is trust.
True heart is gold.

(Still, How should it feel?)

Wave away the night,
Wet grass tickling bare feet.
Each morning's slow dance.

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

1.

The contradictions of being human, a human being inhumane
Becoming more or less / a worsting mess / the cause or blame;
The virus to all the rest in paradise, the succubi of Life:
Befallen Caines—outcasts blind / roaming wild all the while:
Sisyphus carrying the weight  of his hubris shame....

Dancing to the beating drums,
Rejoice for the new year has come.
Acrobats and firecrackers
Gifts of red envelopes and gold
Open house full of food and chatter.
Nostalgia won't keep the saki cold.

Here we lay flowers
where we bury our loved ones,
close our eyes in prayer.

If heaven is Up,
The night sky so full of stars,
I will awe instead.

Wonder which one shines,
how bright the life that was you,
A floating lantern

With a lotus flame,
Lift up in memory of
Love, Amaranthine.

Holds hair bun in place,
Piano song & Dim Sum,
Spoons are best for soup.

Pregnant father sways
Rocking chair to ocean's gait,
Champions patient race.

Cheer in the heavens!
Chrysanthemums igniting
New year's evening sky.

Where all walks begin
Some are quick to reach their end.
Wise keeps journeying.

These creases of ours,
Tales of dragons & white ships.
Neatly folded sheets.

The art of peaceful
warriors, themselves mastered
"The wise open hand"

Man's Golden Lotus:
A wealth of divine knowledge,
Heavenly on earth.

We all wear varigated faces,
However slow or fast the paces
The emotions bubbling drums
Expressions glum or numb
I wear all masks but hatred's.

My words are more than spoken,
Heart dies loudest when broken.
A Sadness that's a wasteland.

In my opinion, Filipinos are generally
Jealous
That predisposition to
"not having it"
But I'm the kind of Mistiso soup that warms you up
Inside
Who has treasures beyond
This half heaven / modern hell called Life (in pockets)
Those indentured to possession & Need
It's the chain that keeps it's hooks
In us - butterfly & poetry...

When the music dies
Become anew, a kind of dance
Perhaps from dreams / perchance come true...
From mini Filipino Me,
Late bloom cool
Lotus, my other name
Without shame within
The rain
The ocean
The island sun
Bright eye of fullest Moon,
Tides in-between flesh & twilight
A twin to gold
A Most enboldened fool.

Irish Filipino Me, not fresh off the boat,
But an American akin to Hope.
Half-breed
Irie-Flippin' Me
I am Love's Phoenix
Fasho
"I see
You," She says
I feel you
I say --soon will see
I do
I bleed
A spoke on the Wheel,
Clover Green and Sulu sea.
Hybrid swim
Irish Filipino Me.

Panacea
            Predestined
                        Predeterm­­ined manifesto

The Mother’s womb where spirit blooms
Instinctual wonderment

Yet the kind are almost extinct
Wish and their screaming wings
To stars moon dreams…

The loneliest finds wisdom
Northward believing
So gains his willful strength

Being
            A “Self” beginning
                        Un-scrawling secret

Once lauded in lament
Gone are its notes
And perforce coins’ anarchy

Collects in its place pockets full
Full of glory beauty
Accounts rather for star gazing,

Advice with considerations
Glow
Knowing now a purpose
In the Truthful

Journey
         Destined
                   Fulfilling

The lesser roads to constellations
Worthy of ghosts memories din
Renderings from every heaven

                        In evenings the stars destiny is written.

We are jumping beans
in boxes, coffins, in bed.
The soul's Phoenix sleeps.

The Lemon parade,
Lay in the bed that you made.
Learning the hard way.

Ode to God
Owed to God
Ohm to God.

Wind hops on treetops
A howling child who is wild,
Grows and makes a storm.

What's better than better
The bestest makes three
You with me
In the light of love
Lovingly lovely.
In love.

These fleeting moments
Fleeing feeling
Just being / next to you now
Is quite unbarable
Not able to touch

Unable to rust
I thought I trusted my own judgement
Do I know myself enough
to trust in how easy it is to sink?
Still I reach for you inside

That **** look in your eyes
Dark strength certain
In fleeting moments
Behind the curtain
Or next to you
Whom I would proudly love
To touch
To kiss
Fleeing feelings
You are so much more
Mean so much to me
Maybe too much for me,

My Unrequited.

Love in this Heart-break
To have found you & yet not
To have you touch me.

My Unrequited
Because of Bigger Love
i am unworthy

Still, how I adore
All the more, You up above.
Unrequited love.