It's a somber Saturday with it's overcast gloom,
One could say it sets our moods to blue,
But what's observed among our neighbors
The happy in positive behavior shouldn't waver.

An intimate couple, balcony and drinks,
A conversational wooing with shot glass hints,
It may change either way, the clouds' grey
May cool the weekend fire of their day in the hay.

A small latin family of four and a pinata,
Toddler lifted to it's height by the papa,
Even with an immanent storm above
They celebrate in the fog,
Their mood set to Love
The Good stay good.

How I see love.

F not for **** or for fracking fame,
It’s for face that is saved, for everything else
That’s F not for effed up freakazoids
Framing the fool or the wannabe fricassee'd.
F is for frozen soul, F is the finale of pitch dark hell
Without a tolling bell
It’s the silent sorrow of farewells.
F is for fire no devil could sell
Funk’n soul, none in hades
Doth ever tell...

G is for the gravitas of goodbye
It’s the gun which grieves
Beneath the soil and sky,
G is the goodness of tears
Love proves, falling from one’s eyes...
So long bereft of feeling
G is for guile...

At Shady Meadows,
Retired senior moments:
Bingo & crosswords.

***** money talks
Loud to those who covet "things"
For Bling, for Swagger.

Winged Kiss


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.

Traveler.


I am the Eagle with wingspans
Of impossible delights
Who argues with it it's flight
Incapable to be free
In a sky without the Light

I am now a ghost
Here reading poetry
Its once living years:
A breeze through eyes
Filled with tears;

I am the gargoyle pacifying all fears
Past the darkest night.

This is a wish, a kiss, deep
A hopeful sigh;
Hands bound, fingers clenched
For Love to deliver me
From here/now
To a place called perfection.
Beyond
Infinitely.

“I am fish/sparrow”
Swimming in the in-between
Looking to always see.
No end to the ends…

Sunrise and free.

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

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

Single mother's eyes
Wells of tears, wishful prayers
Same blues as her child's.

Packaged in a box,
a handle like the baggage
She carries around.

The indigent trail of pup tents

Like a pox on the face of infrastructure,

Plastics, acrylic, steel and stone,

Bag ladies & Panhandled husbands

Outside they call it home,


Down alley and the darkened

Beat all walk

Yellow brick roads, skid rows,

Littered with points…


Tossing Bones, reading runes,

It screams nothing good

Becomes

This / Husk of the blinked

The zombie-fied existence

Unliving / the homeless

Dead,

         Still, the heart is where

Loss finds shelter

We are belongings with heavy longing

Fallen

Down the rabbit hole

Down alley and the darkened beat

We’re caught

Wide surprised eyes in headlights,

In the riptides of the streets

So often open

With the heat of its nights

They **** just to smoke...

black crystal joints

W T F

A Graveyard of points.

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.

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

River.


The impetus
               Of being
     Always on the run
               Through pinwheel eyes
    Those standing by
        The mystic roadway :  River

   Blues yet to be brushed
             Or in blush
         from Evenings’ chill / a breathing Canvas,
        Like windows we
      dreamers felt / all mindful
   And chock full 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 like 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 / being / proud
       Free-Spirit-Fluent
       With the rapid rivers, loud—
                     always on the run...
The currents like a child's curiosity,
     How goes it, then?
                   When or why                               Does it end ?
                  Where do we go?              
                                 And like most things beyond just existing
                            Will be lead to the high art /
Love’s deep ocean...
                      Nights full of stars.          
     We wish often and forget to seek
          mind
                    the sublimations/                   driftwood.
      
       So, Let’s then
Begin with a dot . a speck of dusk,
          burst of sunrise
              or dark, starry skylines
                   pieces to masterpiece                                             Raging fragility of waters’
            (Unctuous undulations)
    Folding upon 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 deeps?
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 / afloat
                 the beating drum
Always on the run
And
        Yet
             Still
                    Here.

Holiday seasons’ snowy glens
Inside the frosted windows, white.
Bundled in the warmth of love so tight.
Evening Star upon Christmas tree whilst
Rushing in excitement to unwrap and tear free,
Needful youths for things of worth:
Acts of kindness louder than words.
Lovely all of winter’s gifts —sharing the world, hibernal.

Viper-whisper utterance,
A Psst! Past Bedtime, hey!
Monster under the Bed, ******!
Or are you in the closet?
Or just a figment in my head?
Shoo! Scram! Snake and shadows!
Every Fear, Darkness grows, I will let go.

Vamoose!

What genius evening keeps secret
The moribund...

His foot falls echo the chill of Novembers deep
Tapping, clapping, wrapping
His man-heavy fragility in wool

How distant and suddenly wide is the night...

What shrewd skills fear casts--a mask,
That evening keeps him wary, attentive as wax,
For Shadows shed no discomfort for this lamb,
His rhythm once “lord of the dance.”

Pulsing toes as eyes flash to every creak or whisper;
The Depth of his sightlessness made paranoid
by twisted twilight shapes, shifting, nerves frozen haste…

His weakness, not knowing, a pallid winter on his face.

Even now its slow climb upon his back
Carried by the slip of a breeze laying waste
to the soundtrack of dead leaves and black.

His foot falls stomping to clash and map
A stroll in the cryptic saves nothing sincere when fear
Deepens in the bones, no resolve but panic...

What genius a weapon: sheer flights of fancy
the conditioned youths who preconceived calamity,
Strange and delicate spaces between the ears
Defeated before finding a sure foot, a mind clear

Before evening or reaching a well lit street,
Familiar and familial suburbs of a mind
Diminished by the subterfuge of fear…

His foot falls turn a corner
And the sound of conflict
Disappear…

"Ain't that some messed up ****"."

" **** has hit the fan. "

" Is this **** legal? "

" That's some racist ****. "

" I didn't sign up for this ****. "

" Don't blame your **** on gin & juice. "

" **** is dope. "

" What a **** hole they live in. "

" What kind of **** are you trying to sell now? "

" Call that **** for what it is. "

" You lying *******. "

Save the trees
Plant its seeds
Love the World.

Peace!

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
with our living years...

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...

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.

Stay kind, wise old man.
Age is the nature of change,
Turning of one's page.

I'm not worth it says myself esteem, though knowing me being me, i'm not worth any penny, but heavenly heavenly love is echelons beyond counting countanences, of fathers or lover's gold. Beholden i am told by the indifference i keep secret
Umbilical cut
Like a knife to the cliche of the heart the hurt of giving birth
Deeply latter in your age
Sob to how it feels
It hurts being born, divorcing the boy she owned, she's owed a medal for keeping
Sacrificing the lives we yearning for burning looking back
Dont gorge on wish in
Life speed
You may miss
Something worthwhile substance
From an inside pride
Calculating my own self
Worth,
I am a gentleman
If anything
An open door of karma
Thanks be
Now i know, what's it worth
In boohoo bad hairday
Pity party's over it
We all grow
Out of it.

(Never say never…)
She says never, I says wat evs.
If never ever were Always and forever,
We’d be ****** now, upside down side ways,
All the hours of night and all day, never say
Never ms. Clever
You’ll only miss out, make your ***** swoon
Without a doubt, I’ll swim your
Summit’s warm lagoon.
Never say for whom you’ll die,
Upon your doom, no eyes, nor light of  insight
Never is a deep dark well
It’s an empty wish in a starless night,
Never said by dead but soul in flight
The truth no word can speak
But do unto you, what’s good and right...

Spirit-Walk


Panacea
            Predestined
                   ­     Predeterm­­ined manifesto

The Mother’s womb where spirit blooms
Instinctual wonderment

Yet the kind are almost extinct
Wish and her 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.

Families poor, most are quite similar,
Island girls, fish out of water, to be delivered
Looking for saviors at continental breakfasts,
Illegitimate legacies off shore, sailors deny guiltless.
Pining mothers turn mail order brides,
Instant family in the land of Milk and Flies,
Nearly always end in divorce, of course the poor stay
At the poverty line, it’s the great divide, unpaid debt.
Still, a third world country our mothers can’t forget...

Often times when reading the messages
poets metaphor in rhyme,
in unreason and allusions, imagery
indiscriminate discriptors

they say the same thing--as if they all of 'em took
a class together on love
they say that it’s unreal
That “love is relative..."
relative to what?

to whom or how or when?
like a family member twice removed,
an aunt, a grandmother's warm smiling
invitingly familial
be it an impromptu emotion, all grandiose
and Hollywood acclaimed,
love seems unseemingly
     obscure
     demure
     fickle at times
     wishful
     blissful
     fervent even
     magically
     restless
     with its deliciousness
on and on so it goes / without saying too  much
how it will breathe
new life into those
     lackluster
those without
yet who are
     consumed    
     hollow
those without hope, suddenly are given it
     anew
     vividness
     An energy miraculously appears,
In HD the world is seen / absolute brightness
faultless and star-filled
     clear..

Yet it well can cause
our worst of fears
of wars / casualties / gruesome endings
   tragedies
   :a movie
with Shakespearean poetic pain,
the pentameter of the mortal heart
   sonnets of our human condition
   :a documentary
   of life
   conflicted
it is a cause many have and will bleed
for, some even die for,
searching and reaching out
whether in vain
or suffering in the pain find
awakenings
Then again
that's what it's all about ...

it is relative, to what or why
in life,
     pragmatic,
     fractal
human feelings reign -  yet a populace
of loneliness, millions of neighbors
never extend an open hand or invitation
so love can be difficult to find

in the sea of Man,
of many  a world separated
it strikes like lightning, they cliche
     quick
     unannounced
     unstable
it happens without warning, cupid's arrow
hits, descriptively it must be a wound..?

yes / yet no / unknown

it has begun: an end
to a means - a chemical thing
(hypothesized
in scientific circles,
I guess
just one of those undefined
Unexplainables)

like crop circles
in the wheat fields of the heart /
sometimes / it is
unpredictable
Then appears
Somewhat
              obscene
     wild
             flavorful
     rigid
     rarely mean
     spirited
     ferocious
at times... fiercely
      all while
Still / timeless...yet
in nature's laws
of strength versus luck,
small prey to a predator : eat or be consumed,
love is not recognized (or is it?) by the animal

It’s mate and procreate in the simplest terms.
Does a shark check out it's female before it decides
to release his *****--take it on a date, a swim in the riptides?
a bite of sushi first?

Empress bees and others with their queen-ruled colonies
birth a world from one,
does she feel the same for her thousands of husbands
fathers of her millions of children spawned?

love is relative... love is blind
another descriptive fallacy
invented by folk without husband or wife or vision
universally
known in these modern communities
of man-made homes
and tomes ...
blind ... as if like a person, the word
unable to see,
inept of decisions, making a finale,

who will stay by the miens of our simplicity
flesh and feelings
     silent servants
     beguiling
     hidden
     treasures

Now imagine lightning striking
     suddenly
     real
     unabashed
     fulfilling
     electrifying
     sensual  
     salivation
far beyond restrictions of the flesh/ *** /
past times and her finite
musings, they say it will go on and on

"forev'a ev'a? forev'a ev'ah"

And so it goes / the song repeatedly plays.
so then i say, as long as we are
still the masters
of this life's age, kings of consciousness,
of intelligence and rage
Love tho'
     fleeting
     Careless
     Whispers
It’s like
     Being
     Liked
     Obsessed over
     quenching kissed
All yours
     lessons-learned
Feeling aloft in flight
Love
will stay  
as a witness to war
or afterward in peaceful days,
O the one true thing
I have seen of love's relativity:
love is relative to humans

To our
Very being
whether blind or whether seeing
It’s yours and mine
Soul seeking

Free of will & full of meaning
Love is the truth
All Life is feeling...

Babba wants to collaborate
Challenge us
Or fill the time inside
This Ethernet space with poets
Online reading
Most mundane thoughts in
Print, scripted...
poor Babba endentured to shake
Our minds artistically
Challenging us to words
Chaperoned by still Life
Pictures.

“It’s okay to...”
(Looks like whiskey and a leather bound
Bible, presumably.
Not red wine, But an amber gold tincture  
In a glass chalice
Dominating the book
Standing over it, almost a shadow)

It’s okay to...
To drink while reading bibles?
What are they driving at?
True to the word—don’t speak
But with meaning, like life, getting
Tickets for speeding and lies.
Betting on drunk,
scriptures they imbibe.
It’s okay to...?

Our Inner City’s
Wilderness of steel and stone.
We are strangers lost

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

Make self worth a silent market,  words have no value.

*** 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.?

I doubt I’ll make
It
To
Forty-five.
I’ll
Be
Smiling.

The Cook asks the Dishwasher, who wipes the kitchen clean, and clocks out at Ten; why bother doing such a good job when it will get ***** again, each and every day?

The Dishwasher smiles saying,”Ah, such is Life.
“We all have to go ***** to get clean, how else will we know the difference or appreciate what we have at all?”
“Because I love, I let Love rule. It’s not about me...”

Toasts to the heavens!
Chrysanthemums igniting
dark blue colbalt sky.

Photograph

At times I need to glance at this.
When you’ve gone, I'll think fondly of
all the summers in your smile,
you’re just so beautiful here.

And now as I look ahead
at the times I'll again need
to rout the insufficient days without you
my eyes will fall on this

Thoughtfulness
fraying at the edges.
An old glossy paper memory
kept perfect, still —your smile,
that's mine. I’ll hold it near & dear

with me.
without you…

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

Black is not one color
                           but all of 'em in one

Black is not a face nor a person,
Not a baller nor ***...

it is the period when this sentence is done .

Maybe black is the ooze
that drowns sea and fish

or is it that ***** young’n
all hungry with wish

Black is certain as black is your eye
when you're fighting just to prove your right
(or keep one's hopes alive)

Oh yes, black is what makes the stars shine bright
while under it--knocking boots aside...
no matter what, love is also made
in the darkest of nights...

So why would somebody
as golden as me
care about one crayon
or a stripe of a bee?

Because if nothing is wrong
then our skin shouldn't be
or much worse  --whipped til it bleed...

There is nothing more to say,
but let each embrace teach you

Question all history, but now just do you

as long as eyes can take a look
know your neighbor, hug that crook
experience and love is not from a book.

Surely I'll sit next to you
since we ride the same ****** bus,
do you get to know my color
or speak to living dust?

Black may be just a word
that fear blinds from trust.

black is beauty under the sun,
til time is rust, til gone is done...

So speak truly and just Be free
Lov’in the same as all of us
Cherish our Blue her greenest trees
Since we do ride that same ole bus...

No words need screams or fistful hate
Cuz Black was Moonwalking
All up to the Pearly Gates,
where the boogie cannot wait...

and the blind finally wake.

Your umbrella and muddy galoshes,

Elvish child of Spring, dancing in the rain.

Lovely as the innocence, being chaste.

Laughter banishing all fears so dark.

On faith, on stars - the color of remembrance…

Wondering if it’s raining where you are?

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.

All that we have we cannot hold
Our material time, the physical seeds we sow
The impermanence of touch, life filled with words,
All things we learned from what most hurts
It’s only human to want, and grieve
From the depths of hollow need
But the One true thing we keep is the love
We know we must set free
It is a star in the dark of night
The beautiful memories’ shining light
No wish or want or need to be told
Cherish what hands cannot but the heart
The mind and eyes behold,
A star in a heaven made of gold...

That’s a father’s Love
Not to believe in but Know.

We've gone mad
Going to madnesses
Carry on surviving
These new asphalt forests
With glass trees, mean streets
The birdsongs gone
Passed on to Extinction
Replaced by man's Machina
Armies' replicas

Inviting aliens with solid gold
The lushious abundant sounds
Pre-recorded,
"Hello what ever is out there, we are here! We welcome you to planet Earth."
HUNGRY?

We've lost our minds
Having lost our soul
We carry the madness
Like gongs from the Bell tower.
Carrying on surviving
Half alive
We're facsimiles of ourselves
In fat fake forests with
Coal-black rivers
Sand as the concrete sidewalks
Hard as war's urban jungle
Amidst viruses, flooding, wildfires.

We go to imaginings
The weight of bones
Of human quivers,
We go on to dream...
  I made not Had, upon
  A river's bight
We go to hoping
When we at last stand still,
That I have loved ones who wait
Behind the hill, taking me home
Away from the madnesses
those Gone surviving. Hope you are not alone.
Alas that is what madness exactly was,
Tomorrow, who knows?
Take a bridge of light precisely at the time
The clock of stones at sunrise,
No madness in the eye
It's at the foot of heaven where loved ones wait...

P.S. be careful not to lose it.
Your light inside is key. Yes way!

**** strap
Leather
**** ring

Shaved baskets
Trimmed hedges
Or hairless smooth

Quiet compliance so
Pliant without a clue
Young and tight

Taint and sphincters
Need not speak
**** bleached...

Houseboy’s best asset?
Stay cute & Keep being kept
And the mansion
***** and span

Poolside, wear your youth
A golden tan...
Poor boy house toy,

Don your dignity well...
Naked. Summer.
House
Boy.

It would be rude to
Ask his mother (running to market for syringes)
Ask if he was crooked coming out,
A broken bambino, was he?

Haunched Santino and his mother
From their makeshift hut of crates
And unwanted soiled baby blankets
Stab themselves between the toes

While the Asians pass through
In their Lexus's and glittering Samsungs
As indifferent as the heroine
That Santino and his mother buy
(Veins like fingers rivers lightning)

She's sensitive about everything,
Watch what you say...
It seems like love, a son and his enabler
Or vice verses all the world
A rotten oyster.

I dare not ask his mother
Which came first
(The chicken or the egg?)
Was he a crack baby, her good boy, Santino
Or was she?

“Watch your mouth!”— She's yelling
At foodies parking their cars,
With her eyes closed, walking about, lost, lots...

He's a good kid, forever her bambino
I now understand selfishness
How deformed came the world to Santino...

It was ninety one degrees this April Third,
Having walked for two hours in the sun,
I was dying of thirst, So
I first went inside a
Green Valley Grocer, the clerk pointed to a sink at the back,
Playing with his bangs
He did not have a cup to offer, “nor do I care”
I shook my head, I stomped away,
Water water
So close yet so far...
I barely could swallow that’s how dry
I was hurrying across the boulevard to 7-11
Surely there my thirst will be quenched,
“Oh thank heavens,” as open door dings a bell.
I struggled to even ask the woman
at the counter.  
I felt my throat closing
May I have a cup, a drink of water??
“Are you gambling? Can’t have a courtesy cup without gambling.”
I says Seriously?
Then I went and there
I knocked upon an old neighbor’s door,
myself parched beyond Death Valley.
She answered, having her phone to her ear, as I politely asked apologetically—for some water, in pantomime.
Without hesitation she returned with a chilled bottle for me.
Ahh, Thank goodness for non strangers,
old neighbors, who see you, not looking through you or past you, unconcerned judgementalists. I have died of thirst
Thank you old Ms. Neighbor for the drank.
You’re the first sign of a good Spring…
(since COVID. Dig?)

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