The music of the Republic blares out of tune , it wreaks
of the sewer , politics and Hollywood penned with immoral , ****** ink allure
Assembly line product lacking imagination , based on aggravation
Tinged with savagery , we're back in Rome today crying
for death at the Coliseum , waiting for the "Star" to fire his rounds
Waiting for an accident as the race cars circle about
Wired to the machine with our transmitters shoved in our faces
Rewriting our history , swimming with the crocodiles then becoming
shocked as to why we've been bitten
The basic rules of morality are being rewritten
We are cornering 'the lion' of demarcation this very moment pretending it's a kitten* ...

Flying flower with wings of
Black and golden yellow
Danced round and round
The candle light
It fluttered and hovered
Little did it know
That the light
Would take its life
Even as it fluttered
One last time
And went still

Don't talk to the old man
on the ladder he's likely
cleaning eavestroughs

end to end full of leaves
kite string & black
beetles

He may mumble
teetering on the rungs
but don’t interrupt work

he has enough to handle.

Spending a month in a hospital teaches you a lot about people.
The doctor that told me to shave my head or she wouldn't treat me,
The nurses that spent forever chatting to me
And giving me supportive advice about how my illness doesn't define me.
The woman who was given a terminal cancer sentence
And chose not to pay attention to it and defied it anyway.
How she sat next to me on my bed,
Told me that all suffering is valid,
And just because I'm not dying, doesn't mean I don't get to complain.
How she complains more about her skin problems
Than she ever complained about her cancer,
And that's OK, because pain rarely follows rules.
I never even learned her name,
But she gave me the words I hold most closely to me
On those days when I want to fall asleep and never wake up.
I'm allowed to scream and shout and rage against the pain
And the unfairness of it happening to me.
I just have to make sure I know where the line is
Between giving my darkness a voice and pitying myself.

No agony is greater than the yoke
Men fastened round my love
Her lines they bounded with metres
Her flow they have blocked with patterns and rhymes
Her end they constrain with rules
I crave the freedom to paint her as I deem fit
She's born of my thoughts and feelings
Sorrow would be less so
If there were rules to grieving
I'm breaking her rules

You stole the light from my soul, when you left
But I had no way to prevent, or report your theft
You left me behind all alone, groping in the dark
Searching the ashes blindly, for some sort of spark

I fell into a deep, never ending abyss
Don’t know how long, I existed like this
Until that scar, on my heart fell off
It’s only then I knew, I could once more love

Now I endlessly search, for a cinder or glowing ember
To relight my soul, like those days I remember
But with every spark that I’ve chosen, to my light renew
It only fades and dies, with each memory, of you
BOEMS BY JA 482

Today u came with a smile
Something different was surely in ur mind
The bird couldn't think what it could be
As u were waking slowly to her cage
A smile meant something good to her.
She was then the happiest creature alive
U came to her, opened the cage.
Asked the bird to come out,
Fly and never come back alive.

The bird got confused.
With the smile and those words.
But the smile was gone.
Ur eyes were waiting her to fly
She wanted to ask why?
But she knew the answer herself.
You had left her long ago.

Been gone for a while
Lost my knack for words
The poet pipe used to be my crack
And I'd splice it with some herb.
But I lost the good vibration
That made me tic the keyboard tac
But some reason now I'm writing again
The youngin age is coming back.
I missed all my fellow typer's,
Penner's, grinners, ******'s
Writer's. Dont take ****** word wrong
Because trust me I'm a ****** to,
Hello out there my fellow poet
That's right, Gramps did miss you.
I've been enjoying the sun
Not trapped inside the hellopoetics cube
We all need some getaway time
To come back like a fresh flower
Renewed and refined. So for today
I inscribe my bloodlines time,
Because in time we record our being's,
Today I'm back to make fancy words
And tell you fanciful thing's.
Glad to see you, hello Mr and Mrs
Poetry, hope your doing well\
Gramps missed your typing keys.

You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.

Lucid dreaming is the doorway
        to the unconscious.
So dream.
Do not stay closed
        behind cement barricades
        blocking the moon
        from shining.
Live.
Each second is for you.
The tumbling of life
         does not promise
            anything.
In one breath
you can have
        a time table
        handed to you.
A distinct framework
        of how much
        longer you shall be.
Stay in illusion.
Keep in mind
that very little
is worthy of
being screamed about.
Politics
        and
people games
        are not
         the substance
        of existing.
Picture colourful images
         that flutter
          playfully
            across the
           mental horizon.
A traffic light
      will
       blink
red, yellow, green.
A noise
        will dominate
         the shading sky.
These mean nothing.
Moments of distraction
        soon
         gone away.
Focus on fantasy.
Allow yourself
the freedom to
         celebrate
        the essence
        of harmony.
When you die,
       it will be
         your dreams
         that are
          remembered.
Breathe.
It's just
      a bad day,
      not a bad life.