We sipped boulder rock from refrigerators doors
and watched the heavens hand out food stamps with IBM logos.
“ode to Mehmet” we sang, and licked the Mossberg—
fixating on the blue collar philosophy that lived in our empty wallets.

Trash cans filled with water bottles stared at us to find our essence—
the one we had lost while being fed quintessential American idioms
in state-of-the-art classrooms sponsored by slaves and Popol Vuh blood.

Six million years of human existence trivialized down to a single sentence—
* Man loved God, man wrote, man conquered God, and now man loves science* —
scribbled on SmartBoards afforded by fire burning from Prometheus’ female liver.

Trees sing with oxygen no more for the sake of making paper,
and eyes soak in the words on paper for the sake of making paper.
Trees make the avenue but the future holds an Avenue of no trees—
… for in the land of the free, anything but freedom ain’t free.

Funny how we woke up in the morning
and pretended that tomorrow never happened—
strutted naked in mirrors celebrating our youth,
laughing, knowing suns and moons couldn’t do the same.

We borrowed our arms from the fridge
and peddled bicycles with bad breath—
trading war stories ‘cause we knew
if we came back alive
life would still be the death of us.

Poison spoon fed the nodding King and ended ancestors.

Holy cows bought government *****
and ate suicides grown by ***** Kubla Khan gospels.

Shantih, Leviticus, and other proper thoughts
kissed arms of air and made islands from memories of breakfast.

Eternity perished in the illusion of swallowed tongues
in the belly of an infant—
and yesterday,

Only one bullet of hallelujah stood swimming.

because we fell in love with the law
and fell out of love with ourselves.

because the ***** of great minds
wear pineapple fatigues in their fathers’ *******;

from Judas swallowing 9 bullets
to one day being a kid at heart
a symptom of some abnormality.

Ever get the feeling that you’ll die on a Tuesday?

Or one day wake up on their government bed
Screaming,
“you can blame the French Revolution
On silent reading!”

watching

as three teacups of *** plan war on the asphalt.

What a beautiful sunny day
Sitting in a garden
Sipping a cup of icy cool lemon tea…
Reminiscing the good old days…

You and I..
We used to walk hand in hand..
On summer's days … spring days and everyday…
enjoying the breathtaking view of your South Country
Colorful tulips, roses and daisies…
The lush green grass covered the earth…
The chirping birds on trees…
The nature's beauty that I will never forget
Tranquility as you said…
I had peace of mind and enjoyed my daily walk with you

I remember how you used to amuse me
A bouquet of pink and red roses
Your marvelous smile and a gentle kiss..
Special roses from you delivered with love for me
We walked down the stream
Down the trail deep in the forest
If there was a misty rain
We danced and played in the rain and laughed
Without anyone else around
You and me, just us…two..

In a dreamy state of mind I am today
Remembering you and all the good times
How could I relive those days all over again..
My feet are too numb… my body is too weak
To walk, to dance with you in the misty rain once again…
Who will amuse me with the red and pink roses again?
Today.. I am sitting in your garden
Everything still look the same.. Except for you aren't here
You wouldn't be here, never will be…
Twenty years ago I had loved you…
In October rain you were taken away…
I am left alone to reminisce the days…
Come summer, winter, autumn and spring days…
A hundred or a thousand more years..
I promise you that my love will remain… unchanged…
Look honey! It's the misty rain again…

I am a disappointment to my mother.
I don’t call when I’ll be coming home late. My room is wreck. I’m not in school, and I work two dead end jobs at places that don’t matter one iota to anyone in my family.
I curse. I smoke. I drink.
I’m a foul mouthed little child that can’t lose weight and sleeps around and never does what she’s told.
I’m a disappointment to my mother,
Despite the years of good behaviour. The good grades, the chaste life, the driven nature that took me half way around the world just to see if I could do it.
I stand in front of her today, still 6 inches shorter. Still rounder, still brunette. Still foul mouthed and still rebellious.
I still hug her tightly as if she’s all I’ve ever had. As if she is the only stability I’ve ever known. As if all those boyfriends who claimed they’d never leave either of us, as if all of those friends she had that I grew to love, and the pets we abandoned, and the apartments we called home, as if all of those things never mattered, or shaped me to be the distrustful little being I am today.
I still look at her like she’s all I have left. I never talk to her about stuff like that because I know it will only make her mad. Her hormonal short temper and her distrust of my judgement. I know I’m young, Mom, that’s why you should let me make my mistakes now, instead of in ten years when I’m married with children and never got to taste what being wrong in every way felt like.
I’m a disappointment to my mother. I want to have bad times. And hard times. I want to be knocked on my *** by life and barely able to get back up. She doesn’t get it.
She never will. I love her. With all that I am I will always love her but that trust that was once only reserved the only person who never left me, never deserted me and never gave up on me, that trust needs to be placed in me.
I am a disappointment to my mother because I grew up, and now I need to be a disappointment to me.

Twigs crackling, branches battling
against the wind
not to lose their fettle.

Leaves dry and brown
of feeble strength
away are blown.

Dangling like a thief
hung upon the gallows' cliff:

Old leaves from the tree
one by one be torn,
snapped off the boughs forcibly.

Decease by disease or sickness,
caught by misfortune or curse

Is man, unlike a gay green
leaf, in youth and in a merry gown
of life dieth; no more himself to preen.