Thin and mild mannered
tattoo novice ink
inarticulate
drawings of ***** boy *****
gnarly scabs / a missing tooth
walking dead in flip flops

pain clawing his expression
all loss in its translation and

Need is loud - a vagrant shout
but I have no money to give...

Young man, in his wife beater tank,
smears of dirt
his wastrel work
crawling through the black
though this morning's blinding
sobriety
forces its friendship on you
                 find a way back...

Young man, here's some breakfast
warm and steady
in the war-time melee of your stomach
empty as the shame
that must be lingering
in your pulse,

here's some shoes and water too
keep cool in this hateful heat
keep on toward home
toward mother's arms
if that's all the choice you got

survive or not.

Here's a moment kindly passing
not a dollar or a hit,
I hope you make it to the next one
and maybe another kindness will be won

in the ripples of this pond
where loss is the stone
you are sinking

below the surface deeply hidden
it's only a matter of realizing,
we are born to swim in it
we're made of creation, creating our own

when you resurface air —be strong and kindly
wash away  dark nights lone chiding

Young man, I see this morning, crying
Once awake to tithe the ties of binding
Learning
You/ are the only one you’re fighting

The human pride kind of life and time
We appear to be casualties
Keeping in mind
when we mindlessly gorge on wish
for something equal
gold and fine…
bright faculties love divine
You cool?
I wish
Young man, "god bless" he says
goodbye
there's nothing
worth it more than Lovin’

The searching for meaning
Who are you
to find/
  be found
in someone else’s loving eyes...?

(No one around . Now.)
Shed some light...

**** 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.

To Spoon the Moon


I make smiles from shattered eyes
cry December's distracting fractal frost
move my soul with hopeful sighs
and pray our devotion is not lost

It is the eve of renewal's glee
gave sad promises to spoon the moon
but in the haste of glass we freeze
pose with strangers who fill our room

sweat bemoans my reaching hand
your eyes are vacant with his lust
he bids the hours by your command
we smoke our feelings into dust

this boy is weak yet worships you
opens darkest gates to breed
now enter light that stirs, confused
my tears to scream still go unseen

i am a wish of hearts refused,
the sound of falling poetry...

Boulevard Roads Hellbound
Streets
Leaving Las Vegas I-15
Boulevard of broken
Misfits and monkey anarchy
Anti-peace rally against joy.
Token lives in lies, employed.
Hatred /War strengthens beasts
Ruling this jungle, concrete
Cities killing the Dream...
Boulevards crowded with life sized toys
Played with until broken
Defeatist highways of human decoys
Heartless in the calamity
Killers with no devotion
Emptiness inside, a nameless disease
Not quite people (masking teeth)
Rather made into meat
For hungry is the beast.
Of War and dystopian enmity
(Believing it's nothing)
Boulevard Roads Hellbound
Streets of broken
In Sin City... 2020.

If war has begun
Dark molasses on white tongues
Deeper lashes of city’s woes
Harsher graphics showing their junk
The weapon is the tongue
Wars have done begun
Because the Word is Love.
Dark molasses sweetened tongues.
Overlords and goats...

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

...One...

Burning with goose-flesh
Yearnings like calderas’ thirst
Your kiss is my rain.

...Two...

I’m burning without
your fire, your kiss I thirst,
Aprils full of rain.

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...

Low fuss, no muss, a floating pace of dreamy.
Attain awakenings, waking up a cloud late afternoon
Go as you please, no boss to answer or try to please
On a strict clean, diet of quietude candle moods.
Many modern amenities are lost here, in the woods.

ALIEN


New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as
A galaxy or dungeon deep dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty and touch

Our human gravity,
Spirit and superstitious will
Heavy by testaments and old teachings still.

Yet war has long been our
Problem-child
And like the parents that we are

With these days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept its prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…
It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age.
When there is no warmth or
Use for light
It’s a world unbecoming

alien…

2.
A hollow winter's home,
Down hallways dim
Walls of cold grey that bemoans
The emptiness felt within
Deathly hues of blackest souls
A museum of the painter's woe
Winter's home seen now as hollow...
Where only shadows go to wallow.

Friday, Saturdays
Those wild party Nights in Sin
City's unbecome.

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

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
Infinitum.

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

Sunrise and free.

Poetry is the colorful way we celebrate love, the vibrant joy that is felt through music, our lungs full of song, our life's choreography. Poetry is the motion of our hearts & souls, how love moves within & without us; how brilliantly life dances, how poetry breathes the colors of us -- vividly uniquely human/poetry.
We are poetry, poetry is love.

I make smiles from shattered eyes
cry December's distracting frost
move my soul with hopeful sighs
and pray our devotion is not lost

It is the eve of renewal's glee
gave sad promises to spoon the moon
but in the haste of glass we freeze
pose with strangers who fill our room

sweat bemoans my reaching hand
your eyes are vacant with his lust
he bids the hours by your command
we smoke our feelings into dust

this boy is weak yet worships you
opens darkest gates to breed
now enter light that stirs, confused
my tears to scream still go unseen

i am a wish of hearts refused,
the sound of fallen poetry...

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...

Once upon a time, since upon the earth, creation:
Bright flash of lightning, inflagrations,
When Life was chaste and newly born
Upon all the face of the world
The fertile fields and skies
The oceans of flora and bluest seas
And shores bursting with life.
All the beasts they yield, the fish and grapes
Crushed by men to wines
The winged things in flight, the schools which swim,
Leaves that spring and blossom
creativity, divine.
Life Thirsts / Love Dies
In flesh and bone no cherubic clouds,
But husks of chrysalis, olden days‘ thunder roads.
Tears upon the face
In the Eye.
Upon a time, Once
The light of love’s divine creation :
Fireflies
At dusk
Spontaneously combust.

Behold these Human Dreams of Heaven

Upon every Evening, we Fall like stars to Sleep

And it feels like Dying without but my Dreams,

It’s only Human to Go dying.

But First we must Live / & then / Learn to Fly.

Reach for your Dreams. Everyday reach—For the Sky,

For Heavens—sake. Dream.

On the fifth day, in Vegas,
A pastor invited me
To a wedding
With Five Mormon Wives!
At the temple at Sunrise
Trying to recruit me...

Four ****** chicks
3 stolen bikes
Paid utilities
And one black bird shrieking
On a bare winter tree..

This Fifth of December.2019.

Maladroit dans les talons de maman,
Tout-petit curieux se promène
Visage de clown, enduit de rouge

Smoking trees
Painting poetry on the web
Held hostage via
Snapchat clap traps
Viginas, analogued
**** was making the internet...
Smoking Grass all the while
Homegrowns not a lone
(Fringe science)
They hide us in the darkness of ourselves,
Seeing eyes from on high
Our most inner deeps
Life's great oceans ride
Dauntless be,
Write your poetry
By how you give a hand
The last boy scout
Smoking trees.

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

What use is poetry
To them
There is no poetry
To be or not
To see but sunlit face

What use is taste
Mouth full of poetry
To canine teeth
No justice or reason
Just carcass meat

What good is poetry
If heart
Don't ever bleed
What is love
Without poetry?

The Lonely Man’s grave
at the bottom of the hill,
“pushing up Daisies.”

Dream-Like
My Life—-Eyes wide
Asleep.


I wonder if you’re proud of me.

What’s it All About
Here!
Still tryin’—-Living.

Is the Sky in my skull
Not imagination Heaven?
Oh Soul
        Snow Piercer
Oh Life! You great monolith
I climb
Your pyramid
A backdrop of red
Fires, Angry Suns.
Nature can’t save us over hungry
We ate & sealed our fate

I wonder if You’re proud?
I am of your Love.

Forevermore.
That’s unreal! —
My Love.


Dream-Like
My Life—-eyes wide
Fast Asleep.

Oh Forgive me. Oh!
Forgive me please...

The serpent will eat it’s tail
Let’s see who lives to tell
The tapestry swallowed befell
Worship like a wish in the well,
Hollow echoes hell’s farewell.
Time ends without eyes beheld
Light unseen love life to sell
Humanity upon the serpent’s tail
Let’s see who lives to tell.
Here’s hoping all hearts compelled
For there’s a crack on Liberty’s Bell.
Oh mother ******* well, oh well...
All hail to dead mother *******
All hail!

"The Hollow Mountain"
All climb to reach "Easy Street".
Root of men’s evil.

A Gracious Lover’s Kiss

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...

Mask disguises face,
Hiding sterile expressions.
Eyes blue as her thoughts.

On the sixth day, a Friday,
No love was given to me
But six thieves all taking
My patience & inner peace...

Five Mormon Wives!
Four ****** chicks
Three stolen bikes
Paid utilities
And a black bird in a bare tree.

This sixth of December. 2019.

A Birthday bouquet
Every year for dear old mum.
Goes without saying.

MARCH 7th 2020

It will never be the way
It Was
            Here, at Childhood’s End...

It Is the way
It Is /
        Only You whom you must depend. Def end.
It’s
      Only youth’s blind-happy Zen
It shall

Never end the way
You Are.  
                                    FiN.

Why try being cool now
When you can be You. ?

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as
A galaxy or dungeon deep dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty with our touch,
Our human gravitas,
Spirit and superstitious will,
Heavy by testaments, those old teachings still...

And yes, war has been our
Problem-child
And like the parents that we are
In these days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept the prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…
It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age.
When there is no warmth or
Use for light
It’s a world unbecoming
alien…

Thine eyes were first, earth angel mine
To arrest the breath from within my lungs
Lovely deep blue pools, I drown in kind
But naught a drop from heaven flung

After the reprieve to calm my wits
That your flawless face should dawn
And as tho' a corpse that escaped its crypt
Your beauty dearest, resurrects dead songs

Where in my bones had lingered none.
Oh how I should sing of heavens proved
Having myself been saved yet undone
For thou art gravity of the stars and moon...

Your love delicate and fine, divinely saves
Since life has been touched by your grace.

If young blood should wonder
To ask about town
The oldest trick in the book…?

Usher the boy to the encyclopedia
Away from control
The trance of hype media
The internet did not free us
(America on Lies)

Let the young kid know
Find and seek to
See for yourself - be without
Doubt
Not for nothing nor for satisfaction,
Having the answer,
No…

But if it helps
To identify your roots
Me thinks it’s a pic of your me-maw
In tassels & cowboy boots
If she’s that kind of trick &
Your pa-paw
That old dog was once
New

Tricks that learn quick
Young buck be proud
Without doubt and
The oldest most likely white &
Wise,
Though now our
Problem
Child.

Love is the goddess that birthed gravity, bringing together all things alight, alive, the deepest darkest parts of reality. Of course life tests those who would believe or dream, love is her there upon your sleeve, worship is the heart easily lost, when it's business is at all cost. If she is your true religion, belief a dove --not a pigeon. Sacrifice what's seen with how it feels, make that inner magic real. Goddess lights what's true inside, what tears reveal.
Love is the Goddess (come to life. No need to kneel.)

I'm gonna smoke me some ****,
Please Cannabis please!
It's almost August in the desert,
The rotisserie heat
The days a covid convection oven, it drains the body
Exhausted,
But unable to fall to sleep.
Gonna smoke me some
Cannabis
An indica called
Green Dream.
August in the desert...

City's hot as Hell,
Occupied by the faceless,
No mask no service.

Not a jealous god--since jealousy is a mortal thing.

Paradise
is a road
We make of it.

No Destinations without the Journey.
No Salvation without the mourning.

How hell is paved
Hail Captalism!

We’re made of it...
They can smell it.

Fear and gluttonous Greed
The scent of themselves disposed

But a hint of sweet
Agony, aftermaths of painful

The pallid orchid's Petrichor
Soaked scent of wild rain.

Wet paint.
Sweat. Taint.

A golden pinwheel.
Tall and proud, the face of day,
Bright love’s bountiful.