I dreamed I fought Buddah
Again. The fat ******* was a
Slippery one, but not as
Heavy as you'd think.

He laughed with every punch
I landed. So disarming, it
Bordered on cheating.
When he finally tapped out,

I lost. I crossed swords with
Christ some nights ago.
A testament to surrender.
Flat slaps against a thousand

Cheeks, I guess crosses and books
Of poetry -alike- are made from
Wood. I'm the son of a carpenter
Too, I yelled. But it was Mary who

Had a little lamb. I formed a spear
With my hand and drank the
Water it revealed; thirsty as sand.
Like fighting a holy ghost. Air.

I punched at unbreakable mirrors.
I gave up faiths I never had.
Then Odin came up from behind.
Took out my left eye and prepared

To render Blood Eagle, dagger in
Hand, coil of Man; as mortal as any.
We whispered in unison: Finally
A fight worth ending.

Nothing is
Holier
Than
Flesh.

I don't understand why the innocent must pay for the treacherous ways
Why they must be cut down like trees without ever getting a say
Constantly being picked at as if they are the turkey on thanksgiving day
The only difference is they don't get a silver tray
No,their trays are where ever they finally collapse from the pressure
Maybe they'd get lucky and fall in bed of roses
Like it would make difference anyways;
Still the carving knives would be feet that trample upon them,
And the forks would be fist that lay waste to their remains
Their tears would be flavor that was locked in their tender meat
As they curl up in ball trying to lessin the pain
The pain,the endless nightmare they deal with every single day
That is the toll they must pay
Waiting for their bodies to finally decay
Until then they are a mp3 stuck on replay
Living the same life over and over again
Some days the pain is actually worse;
The bleeding scare tissue never really goes away
It is just reopened wider everyday
At times it gets so bad they just lay
As they stare at the clouds that pass by
Smiling begging them to stay,
But no they always go away
That is when the blade comes into play
Finally they would close their eyes and began to pray
Look the other way and just say
"So the treacherous finally got their way¨

The Sun recedes
Shadows reverse into their dreams
The darkness sings and rings
Begging to justify its means

As with life comes death
And a hope that we will be redeemed
We anticipate rebirth
Our awakening's awakening

Through black and white verse
Our voices shall submerge.
Harmonious.

no breath to breath
no life to live
we're all the same on this broken bridge
we hide our face and cover tears
in hopes the pain will disappear
we walk alone in our dark despair
as we prep our veins for this drug called society

Under the I-20 bridge
over the Chatta-
'hoochee suits me
fine as fishin' line

- I've been retried
and found
I ain't wanted

nothing but a winter coat -
my sweet mutt Woof
- an old six string Martin
and a 'frigerator carton

for sleeping in the winter wind
when the sun don't shine -

I don't have a bone to pick
- my fingers ain't quiet as quick
and nimble on a riff - my back is stiff
- but my voice is still whiskey

smooth and my words turn
water into thunderbird - wine

retried suits me just fine
- jailhouse jeans
and salvation army boots -
refried beans and cheap cheroots
- sitting on an old truck tire
around an open fire

I've been  retried and trued
but I ain't yet retired -

somebody's got
to feed my dog -
sing some songs
- catch these fish
and start the fire -
drink a little *****

- 'neath the I-20 bridge
over the Chattahoochee

rivaaa····

r ~ 10/16/14

She sent a message to me
And I could feel her stroking my keys
She was clicking onto my interest
Next message if you please

If I could get you
between my comma
maybe semicolon you
I'm sure I could make
an exclamation point
wrap my parentheses all around you

I could ravage all your vowels
I could click into propend
And at the proper moment most intence
I would touch the "send"

I believe my soul is rotten
Yet you say it is not

I see my face, it's so ugly
Yet you say I'm pretty

I think my body is destroyed
Yet you say I've earned my stripes

I know my heart is beyond repair
Yet you say you'll help mend it

Can you really see so deep into my eyes?
Into my soul?
My heart?
Sometimes I think you're blind
Because everything about me is *torn all apart

You think that intelligence
is measured by words
by sentences
by essays
but no combination of letters you put together will be enough
to erase your ignorance.

Everyone around me is falling into a pit of depression
Self hate, self concept, self image, destroyed
And I am desperately struggling to pull them out
But when I reach for one hand,
It means I'm letting go of the other