the boys
my crew
my squad

the boys
in the bag
hanging

I got two

thems my
family jewels
and I cradle
them in silk
drawers

and get
real protective
of thems
at times

I pick up
things using
my legs
I scratch
ems

I keep
em cool
cause they
say too
warm can
be harmful

I shaved
ems once
what a
mistake
They got
itchy as
all get-out

Then I
got old
and they
hung to
my knees
and got
pretty unsightly

I look
on the
bright side
and thank
whomever
it was
that invented
the cup
and baggy
jeans!

My hungry lips started to talk
To her lips in language hungry,
And my tongue began to unlock
The well of  her language sundry
Necking her North African mounds;
Halting at her salving shell pink
To sip and sup her winy words,
And faint and wake and rise and sink
In the waking sleep of the tongues
Of her fire
To pen my un–Sufi desire
To die in the dunes of her body.

© LazharBouazzi, October 20,  2016

I hate my skinny frame
my bony hips and spaghetti appendages
I envy the built lads with guns for arms
those guys that can wow a girl without any charm
I heard that girls like being carried to bed
they'd more likely be able to carry me instead
and maybe that's the reason I never get any head
but jokes aside, this is a problem
men, women, boys and girls
we're all fixated on an image the media has us fed
some of us feel worthless because of our bodies
forgetting our positive oddities
forgetting the perks we have like a beautiful smile
or eyes that given the attention
hold something you haven't seen in a while
a lot of us haven't felt love from ourselves in years
it could bring me to tears
all because when we look ourselves in the mirror
we see imperfection
but let me ask you this; what is perfection?

Is it a man so jacked up on steroids he can't get an *******?
is it a girl so skinny they call her the queen of size zero?
when zero is the number of healthy teeth left in her mouth
from forcing herself to be sick after every meal?
so what is the deal
with this perfection ****?
I've had enough of it, having to listen to the girl I love
saying "oh I'm so fat" well **** me, I've had enough of that
call me unsympathetic call me a ****
I'm done hating myself, I'm learning to bounce back
you are who you are, a poet once told me to be proud of that
and that I am finally, once and for all
I might be skinny and look weak but I'll stand tall
I'm a clever guy, or so I'm told
I've got charm so I'll learn to use it
keep writing the poetry, to me it's sweet music
keep on telling myself
"I can do this, I can do this, I can do this"



**and so can you

The Ghosts Of Yesterday

Today I saw some fog rise up above a pond
It reminded me of a specter floating in a scary movie
It got me thinking of stuff that haunts us
I am haunted sometimes by, I should have done this
or I could have said that
or I should have done this better
The ghosts of yesterday can cloud our vision today
To live in regret is not a good way to live
We can let go of the past and our vision can be clearer
Things can get better and our emotional fog can lift away
Freeing us to have better days
Let us not be haunted by the ghosts of yesterday today
Instead, let us live in the present and live each day to it's fullest!

With  fly rod in hand
grampa slowly walks up the hill.

I search my hair for ticks because  
cousin Charlie said your **** stands

a chance of falling off if one
bites you in the fall of the year.

Gramma’s hands
shades her eyes as she squints

from the screened-in porch
toward grampa, he is on his knees,

gramma’s arms
fall and she runs;

this will probably be my last trip
to the loch with my grandparents.

You may be more beast than
Man in their eyes; bearded,
Scarred, too tattooed,
History of violence,

History of summoning tears.
But you'll dig a grave for our
Loved ones with your own
Two hands, bruised knuckles

Around hickory and hard
Plastic. So we can relax and
Cry.
You've wrestled huge, angry

Enemies, and won.
Your hugs are epic.
You have taken lives. You have
Arms to hold galaxies.