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_______________________________
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII­IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
•                                                   •
•                                  ­                •
•turn the hourglass, let's start•
•i offer you... all  that's close•
•to my heart •  i'll unveil•
•to you  my  concrete•
•poetry......•so•
•let us•
•          b          •
•                e               •
•                   g                  •
•                  in this               •
•           30 day journey•         •
•witness  the fall... of each grain•
•through the words that i've lain•
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII
*___­________

I have walked so many miles
Never in your shoes
I never seen many smiles
Never been the one on your lips

So many journeys always alone
Many places to go
Where I travel unknown
In these worn boots

In these worn boots I mark
The earth with my feet
God gave me a spark
So the earth I enflame

Every journey a mission
I walk with these boots
Some stop, and they listen
To the words I've carried

These boots are a gift to my feet
Many steps they have made
Whether dirt road or paved street
They make their mark

I could sleep while I walk
My boots know the way
They keep going, they never stop
It is a path ever-trod

Ever to encompass the earth
Until I walk home
To my humbled birth
Deep inside your heart

These boots I stomp at the door
Like a knock to the ground
I love you, do you know what for?
Because you gave me these boots

You knew I would always walk
And didn't want me to forget
You couldn't follow, wouldn't stalk
The person who let me go

Wanted me to remember, those times
You were my rest
You colored me between the lines
Now you carry me

With these boots on my feet
I will find a way
A way for us, again, to meet
At a crossroads

Intersectable, so connectable
Like Lego bricks
We are built, unbreakable
This love, unmistakable

I don't always like
What you have to say
Never will I strike
You, and walk away

A promise that comes from  a past
A promise it is
A promise that will promise to last
My word.

So these boots continue
To carry promises
To walk, because I miss you
Just to be closer

Even if I never touch your heart
I know we
Are never far apart
Not in my head

Boots to ***** in the dirt
To find you
Boots to wear, when we flirt
Or any other time

Boots a map to my home
To find you, my love
So I will not be alone
Just me, and my boots

How Many Calories in a Poem?


visualizing the invisible,
we deconstruct the content,
the in-titled label reviewed,
querying,
is this one worth the cost?

looking for true fiber,
then further inquire,
perchance,
are there grams of
kick-starting emotive proteins,
stored and lurking within,
homes for the cells
that will inspire, transform,
mere readers into mountainous writers

lean on those scripts,
injected with just hints,
resting ribbons of flavorful fat equipped,
for there will always be
the tyranny
of the those of the sparse faith,
those writers of haiku brevity,
believers that
fat free,
is the only,
but lonely,
bene of beauty

death from ignorance to those
who would poison the fruit
of the alphabet tree,
coat produce, with glossy chemicals,
that preserve the shiny exteriors,
cooking up false feasts interior,
saturating us with the trans-fats of trite,
oily verbosity and labels of organic,
that conceal the risks of
hyper-pretensivity

an every poem, seasoned for taste,
a dash of diamond sea salts,
scatter on pinches of pearls
of Caribbean cane sugar,
sprinkle human sins and cinnamon
for zest and tang,
for inspiration and flavoring,
for the souls tonguing tastebuds,
needy for reasons
to celebrate  commissioning
the enticing exhalations of appreciative
oohs and ahs!

Warning!
this poem was processed
in a old, out-of-date factory,
that is most assuredly not,
nat-nut free*

but even if allergic,
be unafraid to taste the acerbic,
for there are
poems
suited for everyones, even your
peculiarities

you want your essayed poems
to brim healthy caloric,
grow them as offshoots
of your very own organs

you need not seek anothers certification,
if filled they are
with the mettle of iron,
built to be
calcium-fortified structures,
with the perpetual strong bones
of rhyme and sonnet

let each worded edifice
be the food,
stored to be gifted
to our progeny,
by their ever living on,
marking us,
marking them

omit the trite,
we ken no need,
for it is the false emptiness of
misleading carbohydrates,
that only fatten,
for the briefest satisfaction,
purposed for the killing of fulfilling,
dulling that which only
a well prepared
dish poetic,
can bring to healthy enliven
the human spirit



Nov. 12, 2015
Aboard Delta #2499
5:10 pm