the fungus are among us
among us, and abundance of humongous fungus
the substance spun us into funnel monkey dumbness
no longer numbness we felt the suns bliss
sun kissed wondrous fun.
feeling the youngest we dismissed all toughness
no longer rambunctious
we had won us a moral compass
complete sublime oneness
glad we had done this
we yelled cowabungas

I came from nowhere into the sunlight bright
staring harsh at the way it looked when released
from the thick of dark  dank  open spaces
of the mind like skyscrapers
looming in awe at unopened alleyways.

Writers and Poets with dark and dense language
lurked on every page offering
wisdom and wonder at all that existed
and I was taken aback by the grit and gristle
of their tongues in torture and bonehard
determination to say things real and true.
My first lesson was obedience
at the citadels of learning.

Soon the words began to form and fix
in the minds eye, each picture drafted
in the souls eternal fire of seeking solace
from within a lone slim space of knowledge.
We were wild then, travelling in jungles
where beasts roamed with hookahs and chains
and belted the night with rabid beats
of rhymes and rhythm bongo drums
that cascaded through waterfalls of lust
and loneliness.

woodstock soon came around with a growl
from Hendrix and a soulful guitar solo
that lifted our energies beyond mud
and music into higher ground where
love and peace co-existed with boundaries
and lines of policemen with batons.

Soon we loved each other on the streets
of shame uncaring for the masses that lay
strangled by traditions of the old
and battered regimes. Our music carried
us into a universal song which started
then and never stopped four decades gone.

what we started in those freedom years
still parades the streets of our individualism
today with a different costume.
The shackles that we unchained
were replaced by those who felt burdened
by the guilt of freedom and excess.

Even today the Capitols burn with angry mobs
tearing political fences and building barricades
of stone hard determination and raised fists
in defiance of subjugation and slaughter
as they race towards a wide open gate
where walls and ****** windows do not
get them down fast enough.

The cities will continue to burn
to mark the decades  we bled loose
the power from dictators armoured carriers
and concubines of greed and injustice
as we ourselves built shells of steel
around our embattled homes and liberties.
Freedom is a right. It will be fought.

In every continent there burns a bonfire
lit by few that smoulders and shudders
in the rubble of military might
but that will not deter the protection
and peace. The bonfires are fed by the few
who boiled their blood in their thinking
for all the others.

Over the radio and tv promises will
echo hollow and insipid as the faces
of the masters who seem impervious to pain
and unwilling to smear the ashes of their own born
against their foreheads of power.

A time will come when peace will settle again
and the rousing reception of rain bearing
clouds will cool the tempers of the trusted
and the untrusted.

We will soon be gone but we leave a legacy
of will that will course through the veins
of our children and grandchildren
and for years to come the poems
we write will stand testimony to the demons
we locked back into the cages of the past.

The power to pen will return to the people.

The invisible hand that stretches across
Oceans and  barbed wire boundaries
Has more fingers than the streams of light that cascade
from the heavens into the dark recesses
of your magnificence.

There are moments when all seems lost
But the shadow of darkness is dispelled
And replaced by this glimmer of hope
That softly and subtly invades
Your magnificence

Even as we explore the faint avenues
That wound their way into our consciousness
We clearly seem to understand how our journeys
Criss-crossed over exotic landscapes
And stark desolate realties
To merge into a moment of  mystery.

We have finally met.
Now more human than before
The pages  of our past turn slowly
The notes we compare are cryptic and careless
But what we share seems to have been sculpted
By the same pen filled with the same ink of wisdom.

What I feel for her, she knows is mine and would not share
she is my home and mine alone, as I am hers
no one shares
that.

in my dreams i blend the two of you together.
you share the same skin tone already,
almost the same hair colour.
but one pair of eyes
gives way to the colour of the other.
i look into them and think warmth, safety, kindness.
but they still hold the other's alertness, the same beam.

one's body falls into the other's gait.
strong, broad, muscled with soft force
now carried with confidence and ego
that melts my knees.

laughs come together as something
like a grab at my chest, or waist,
or a hand behind my ear, or at the back of my neck.
the thought of it forces me to lick my lips.
hands remain in their already similar manner.
voices boil down to love potion.
lips to plushy incantation.
stretch marks, scars,
and treasure trails begin
to double up.

chest hair sprouts where
it once wasn't.

part of me is disgusted by my dreaming
of a crock *** boy that once was two.
but another part knows
neither of them wants me wholly
either.

*friday/january 17/2014/12:16 A.M.