The bowl of a glass ashtray
on the night-stand
is brimming with cigarette
butts and burnt tobacco.

This is what wasted
time looks like.

Grey songs
of a caged bird:
*ashes and cigarette butts

Half moon high
In a deep navy sky
The clouds like spider cotton

Blue ivory husks
Umber grey claws / webs
The deepening dusk
In the navy sky

The streets a flood a river of orbs
Armada of effulgence / suns
Headlights
Streaming pass
Crisp neon plaza shores
Cartoon sharp signage
Accessorizing concrete
Floors

The evening is dressed fine eyes smyzing
Shadows floating to be forgotten
While down the road
Neighborhood way
Skitters Liliput creatures
In shells of costumes
As squeals of laughter festoons
Live tintinnabulation

Like rattlers against the dark

As they Scurry cross dim / spatial street
In demand of what is given
From each and every door
Treat and sweets
All their tricks cached in grins
Of teeth.

All Hallows' Eve
Hallowed be the glee
Even tho' beneathe
The web of grey
Life is precious / breathing

Fear forgotten with dismay

We should live in celebration
Childlike everyday

Our wonder
As rattlers against the dark
behind the masks of face
In our eyes there is
The spark
That lights all life

From wastes of
Hollow wind
Chilling cries bleeding
Undead the unseen
From this cirque city

All done up in bright disguise

Happy Halloween
Death as one with life...

Our dear,

Poor Poet rich with words

Imagines heaven

Though feeling pain

As he sweetly speaks

Softly

About Love

He's been dreaming

To have, having none of that / of theirs

The same kind / gift /

Freedom without needing

Yet having no money to be so

Free

To fill the pages of this story...

Won't Cha? --Hell,

I wouldn't but they'd **** for it:

Papal / Power / Paper

Control over the masses

But No, not my brother, he's my heavy

Not the earthly wonders

In the brown deep eyes

Of mothers

And see into mine / our hours

The surfaces reflecting

Of Love

The poetry of us,

Dearest

Poor Poet rich with words...

When we were the "Little Ones"

Adored

Trying to figure out the world

It's contradictions

I'm sure we all were

Gaga goo goo

Observing and mimicking

Developing

Eyes

How to see the reality

In front of us and how to

Look,

To find what pulls us

Forward seeking

Passions of Existence

To find One/self     to belong...

In the experience that is

Symbiotic

Shapes a whole of a world

As its people-folk-kindred

Family and meaning

Be Purposeful

The Quests are placed before us

Implored by life to explore,

Grab it by the horns

And dream big

All the s'more's!

Remembering when I was yay big

I did not think to see

The moments of / by "needing"

To ask those big questions...

Who am I?

(I was a kid then, pulled out of poverty
  The third world minutiae,
  Happy go lucky with happy meals
  Happy childhood)

Why am I here?

(Back in the day I worried mostly
  Disappointing my mother & god
  Got good grades a decent good boy-guy)

What is the purpose of All this?

(Who am I asking all this, why?)

Who do we answer to?

Will looking up fall on bended knee
Shouting at the sky
Answer you?


When in my awakened grown ups

Experience I learn I realized

I was always searching for the Truth

In all of this...

          For true love

                 For  A life as golden

Not with such riches

But the preciousness of births

Hearts that resounds absolute

With Beloved.

Those who rise above it.

When they want
For wealth and gold and pearls

They will rip it from your
Hands and from the clam,
With the hunger of lust and malice

Swallowing life whole
The lost thieves of old...
Those who only feed the wolf
Loving dogs for more than thee.

It's curious to think
They presume that it is wealth
That heaviness of gold  
Just A mystic rock just melted chains.

The other a product of invertebrates

To lug about with them
Their wares
**** Flashing all who happened by
Their wares
There's no use for a sack of pearls

When here we get
And get got
Seed
           Fertile minds
A wealth unmatched
Seeds
[Point to the temples of our skulls]
Sow there
A chain of pearls...

How I should want
To learn from the honor
Of good fathers
Great pearls of their wisdom

How I should rather covet
          the wisdom of a clam
How an alien looking thing
          Under endless canopies
          Of un drinkable seas
Could be awarded / afforded   "Creation"

(You better should know)

The artistic hand of  Masterpiece
Shaping all
Opalescence
                  Almost to the utmost
Diamond cuts

How godlike is this gift
From the mouth
Like the clam ...

What treasures could be better heard
When all the world
Spoke Love
The language of divine "Creation."

Remember when
every touch
      with all its intention
was a kindness
      Tender like our lips
      at first kiss,
deeply
in one another's eyes

      seeing with feelings
      discovery past the weight
      of fevered flesh,

a dervish flight
through those walls
      layered with doubts as heavy
      as the stones
we now turn our hearts into...

Remember when
every word
      was lovingly spoken

uplifting wisdom
like feathers, wings:
      the soft music of our mouths

      when life is floating
lanterns
and we briefly are a/part
you still have me
soar...

And when we're finally as one
whole, a hearth warm,
and ****
      those wet silences
      become undulating music
                      the times we demure
our mouths still drinking, singing
instilling lessons
      within depths : the heart's thirst

which only absolute certainty
      calms and quenches...

keeps alight and so on
carrying on
      knowing tomorrow will come
      yet when I'm with you
I am new...
even in the dark
your star is born.


Remember when
in the break of morning
      when eyes open from trenchant sleep
      (better than adrift or hollow)
remember how stunning the view

      inhale surprise to waking life's wonder
a/part as the wars pain and riot

fearlessly I say
                depart and drink
the rain
         freedom love
sky and eyes
         will awake...


And if we have yet to meet
since I know
      Truth and believe in Love,

when I fall for you
      Thank all the heavens, vast
I fell for you
                                              I will fall up...

Because I remember
now
it's you
      Lovely      loving       love
who fills my very cup

floating in the drink
of us.

*(God how I love you.)

Where each Choice begins,
some are quick to find its end,
the wise journey on.

Oh my dearest Life,
Oh soul of mine,

Oh heart!

Imperfect within this mortal coil,
Within our ribs a cage,
Perfectly attuned to love and hate
To sky and soil,
The rage of dying days...

Oh how like the wind that craves
to rush with sighs,
To fly, to wish,
My yearning dreams doth the same
For substances of lips
Made flesh from kiss
As corporeal
Your touch since, missed
Lingers still ...

Oh when I close my eyes
How perfect my ignorant bliss
Oh I pine to fly
Away from the ache of this

My imagination's lovely will
And lovelorn heart,
Fallen apart and untouched still...
Influenced by a fantasy
A childish kind of mind, of flesh,
Eyes blinded by your brevity:

The beauty of Days' caress
Brilliant in its levity
Poetic in its might :
The heart's glowing light!

Oh Beloved!
Oh divine destiny,
Infinite and true
Keep close my soul
To find always you...
Oh ever after
Ignite my starry wish
Beyond this mortal flesh

Oh heart
Oh soul
Oh heaven in my chest!
I love you still
(And always will)

Even unto death...

I hear your stress from down the hall
Not yet having let go
Of the static / hard day's work
Your voice sizzles
Like rain on sidewalks
I hear you
"Did you set the alarm
for the morning?!"

"Of course I will!"
Unfolding with purposeful hands
Your side of the California
King
Fluffing your pillows
Soft intentions trying to still you
From here

Tomorrow breaks with a panic
As dust on all the old clocks
Settles like snow
from the cold of such silence.

Forgot to set the alarm
And to wake with you
(In you)

That morning

When did I begin
To forget?

how to love the world
you left
behind
me...

he is in love with ****


tho' love is unfamiliar ground, for what is it

if never known or felt, defined

like the touch of first rain in spring

neither does this bring joy

to him,

new to this, but in it's circumference

he must linger

and observe such obeyence

on octane rushed inner space...



he is in love with a human *****

the shape and size oddly

gleams

his strength above

yet attentive below, how Dali-images he melts

flap-cakes on forrest-limbs, barren elms

and soggy wall clocks that sit in the dry lakes

sadness of a numbered face...



he is rusting from the wonder



how does it function

like keys to unlock hidden thunder?

he is curious to how this might sound / under

   clank of legs? ***** of the skins

how soft will his iron lips begin?



tic-tic-ticking : his suedo-heart's repetition



no different than those yesterdays

mechanical, steady,

as oil perspires from hollow wells



and in moments of fearing rain

   showers will stiffen the joints like pertrified woods

man, shuts closed the foil shiney eyes,

and mouth of silver lips

rusting in the quickness like lightning

fingers the opaque sky...



he must have it

this new flesh of a thing called a ****

so he may tell the sunrise

and use the magic it gives men

******* to name the flesh...



the affects

are unsimiliar to him, made of hollow tin

man, he is in love with ****

his mouth is crystalized thin

   moaning through the metallics of rust & unspoken

sins

the affects

on him, made hollow ... they are as similar

to the pink heavy man

having loved the woods, the same

but walks away

in flesh & pouring rain

on him without a word to say



petrified and moaning,

lightning in the skies - yes, woodsman,

the affects of your love

are the same,

with or without a heart...

even rusted

he is in love with ****...

sad power of men

               to finally understand ... there is more

to flesh and less of tin

when it deals with love



tick-tock-ticking

the function of the heart within

shells of men will mock



Body. Heart/Spirit.
Watts.

Reticent in his ruminations:

Excalibur sometimes sheathed in stone.

Candelabras in castles of his imagination

Likens not to bloom to vain applause

Uninvited eyes of guillotine judgements

Sensitive as he is to compliment guffaws

E**eks out existence, collecting curiosity & moss...

If freedom means
To not need
To ask for permission

Why does it cost
So much
And many a pretty penny

Life like re-enacting
Civil wars and holocausts
Conditioned for submission

The battles with ourselves
Already lost
All ready at a loss

So many without
Such pretty pennies
To show for

Only the cross,
Only the burdens
And the shameful guilt

Unworthy and unfit
Already at a loss
Born to silt and subdegation

I try to avoid confrontation
Nothing said in conversations
When all we do is cuss...

And still we are proud
To have the freedom of speak and say
How the prey will pray

(For you)

These times we consume
In a spherical cage
Of our own doom...